Hooked (The Submission Fighter Book 1)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

Hooked copyright @ 2015 by Sophia Hampton. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Part 1 of
The Submission Fighter
trilogy

The blacktop pavement is cold and damp. Its ridges and tiny pebbles are wedging their way into my skin as I push myself further into the ground, away from the man on top of me. There’s a small, rippling puddle near my head. Was it raining? I think it was raining that night, maybe it had stopped. I am so covered in my own blood and sweat that I would not be able to tell the difference.

He’s punching me. He’s punching me in the face, in the side, in the head. He’s kicking me. He’s kicking every part of my curled up body. I am sobbing, except no noise comes out. Nothing but a whimper manages to escape, except for the sound of my air forcefully pushing out of my bloody lips as he slams into my body, scraping at my hands and arms.

The man is grasping desperately at my right hand. I hold it underneath my chest, pressing my weight down on my hand. I cannot let him have it. I would rather die before I let this man have my daddy’s ring. I attempt to spit at him, kick at him, squirm from him. But he is at least fifty pounds heavier and a good six inches taller than me. Once he is able to straddle me, I know it is all over.

He takes his gruff hands and spins me around, forcing my head to slam backwards into that puddle. My ponytail is soaked, caked in whatever it is on the ground. I manage to beg one more time, “Please don’t do this…” But he doesn’t care. He just looks down at me with an expression of pity. I cannot make out the details of his face. It’s pitch black in the gangway, but I can see his eyes soften for a split second as I start to cry, tears running down my puffy skin.

Whatever he was feeling in that moment was fleeting, as he reaches down to my hidden hand and drags it to the side of my body. His knee pins down my wrist, and I can feel him twisting the ring off of my finger. I let out a large sob as he jams my hand even more. I feel bones breaking.

Before he gets off of me to make his mad dash, he smiles. The only part of him I can identify, even now, are those pearly white teeth. One of his top front teeth is missing, giving him a gaping grin. By the way he smiles, I wonder if he has more in mind for me other than a simple robbery, but before I can bring myself to feel anymore rage or danger, he jumps off, grabs my purse he discarded earlier, and runs left. I hear a car engine start and the vehicle peel away in the opposite direction.

He’s gone.

Alice awakened with a jolt. Covered in sweat, she threw off her brown comforter and quickly moved to a sitting position. Her tiny room windows streamed in sunshine, yet she couldn’t wash away the cold, dark alley scene she just awoke from. She let out three heavy sighs, hoping to catch her breath. She is still shaking, as she reaches for the glass of water and the cell phone she left on her bedside table last night.

Even though the clock on her phone read one o’clock in the afternoon, she wasn’t fazed. As a waitress who worked the night shift, this was just part of her daily routine. And unfortunately, so were those nightmares. It had been four months since someone robbed her, and yet not a night went by in which Alice could remember sleeping through the terror of that particular night.

She twisted herself out of her remaining sheets and pulled herself out of her bed. Cracking the door open, she checked her living room. Empty. She tiptoed outside, heading towards the small chef’s kitchen. As she walked, she stood daintily on her toes, careful not to hit the wooden floorboards that creaked the most.

It was a route she had taken quite often since moving in with Caroline. Just like Alice, Caroline was a waitress at the Tick Tock Diner. She worked mostly nights, as well, but she wasn’t one to go straight home after a long shift. Instead, she preferred to chase the sun with whomever she could find to join her.

Reaching for the coffeemaker, Alice quietly poured in the beans, careful to keep them from rustling around in the pot. With her other hand, she placed two pieces of bread into the dirty, crumb-filled toaster.

“Mmmm… what am I smelling… and
see
ing…” A booming, slimy voice startled Alice, as she concentrated on smearing jam onto her burnt toast. She turned towards Caroline’s door to see Dan. Shirtless and pantless, his hairy body glided into their living room without a care.

Dan sat down at their dining room bar stool, as he watched Alice with narrowed, hungry eyes that followed her as she moved. “Let’s pretend this is just another day at the Tick Tock,” he said, licking his dry, pale lips. “I need your sweet self to pour me some coffee, quick.”

She threw a sarcastic smile his way. “How about you treat this place like my home,” she mused. “Instead of barking at me to get something, get up off your backside and pour your own cup.”

“Damn, woman,” Dan teased, “you’re awfully bold—which, by the way, is just how I like my coffee. But I tell ya, darlin’, that mouth is gonna get you in trouble sometime—especially with that tight li’l body you got.”

Suddenly, Alice felt very self-conscious standing in her kitchen in a pair of cotton pajama shorts and a black tank top. Her wispy, strawberry-blonde hair was thrown up in a braid dangling from the very top of her head and falling down her practically bare back. Her porcelain skin looked even fairer in the poor light of the apartment’s kitchen.

“Leave her alone, Dan,” Caroline scolded mildly, as she walked into the kitchen behind Alice. She seductively reached across the bar top as she paused to pull Dan into a long—and to Alice, awkward—embrace. Alice pulled down two clean coffee mugs, handing both to Caroline as she released herself from Dan’s scruffy, unshaven face.

Leaving the two alone, Alice headed back into her room to finish her breakfast and coffee. Spending another moment with Dan and his cat eyes was nothing she planned on stomaching this morning, or any morning at that. She had hoped to be over it by now. Dan had been around sporadically for months now—more than any of the other men Caroline had brought around. And while she hated waking up to practically a new man a week, those newer faces at least had the common courtesy to sneak out of the apartment without a word or acknowledgement. Dan, on the other hand, felt almost entitled to hang around for as long as possible, if just to annoy Alice for as long as she could take it. Luckily, she could escape into her bedroom where she could get herself ready for another shift at the Tick Tock in relative peace.

As Alice threw on her black skirt, a soft knock interrupted her music she played on her speakers. The door crept open to reveal a partially dressed Caroline.

“Hey hon’, can I borrow a shirt? I didn’t get to my laundry last night with Dan and everything.” Caroline smirked. Alice rolled her eyes as if to say
of course…

Alice grabbed a white and red shirt from her stack of work attire sitting in her bedroom dresser. Tossing it to Caroline in the doorway, she asked, “Are you about ready to leave? I
seriously
don’t want to be late again.”

“Late?” Caroline teased. “C’mon, girl. You’re the golden child there. No way you’d ever get in trouble for showin’ up late.”

Alice knew she was right. After the robbery, the diner had practically rallied around Alice as she recovered from her broken hand and fractured ribs—even the seedy regulars. The small fundraiser for her medical bills had covered almost half of her payments.

“Speaking of which,” Caroline continued, “how are you feelin’?”

“Hmm?” Alice asked dreamily.

“You were screaming in your sleep last night. Woke me up. Again. You havin’ more nightmares?”

Alice shrugged. “Sorry for waking you up,” she muttered.

Caroline shimmied into the tight t-shirt, her black bra clearly visible through the thin cotton. “Maybe you oughta do somethin’ ‘bout it,” she suggested consolingly. “Pete was sayin’ he had a couple of ideas. You might try—”

“Wait,” Alice said, snapping to attention. “Why does
Pete
have anything to say about this at all?”

“Well, we were talkin’ ‘bout it, and—”

“You told
Pete
?!” Alice cried wildly. “Oh my
God
, Caroline. That is
such
a violation.”

“I was just—”

Alice stared Caroline directly in the eyes. “I am capable of getting whatever help I might need,” she thundered, every syllable like a thump. “It is no one’s business but
mine
. Whatever’s going on, it’s
my
problem, not anyone else’s—and certainly not my boss’s
son
’s.”

“Alice,” Caroline said gently. “Calm down. Both of us care about you. We just want the best for you. And if you’re not gonna take Pete up on his offers…”

“What do you mean,
offers
? He asked me out to dinner once, and that was, like, I don’t know, three months ago.” She couldn’t forget Pete standing over her as she lay in her hospital bed. Without asking, he had taken her hand, wrapped in wires and tubes, and mentioned taking her out for dinner when she was feeling better. Alice had agreed, hoping it would get him to leave her alone to her privacy, but instead, it had put him on her trail ever since.

“Look,” Caroline said, exasperated. “You do whatever you want, hon’. But it’s an awfully big loss. I woulda taken him ‘round the clubs myself, but he ain’t into that.” Caroline lifted the corner of her lip with a wicked smirk. “Besides, he’s a li’l too innocent for me.” With that, she turned quickly to head off to the bathroom, no doubt to apply her smoky eye shadow and long, fake lashes. 

When Caroline emerged from the bathroom, Alice was waiting impatiently, tapping her foot restlessly on the floor. She had put on her white low top sneakers at least a half hour ago, totally underestimating Caroline’s ability to waste time with her makeup routine.

The two headed out, walking down the three flights of stairs from their flat and out into the mild summer air. Anywhere else, this would have been the most picturesque day. But in this part of Steubenville, the sun’s light just exposed more of the dingy, polluted streets and the run down cars that lined the alleys.   

Alice hadn’t lived in Steubenville for long. She had moved to the city after her father had passed three years ago. She had hoped she would find a job as an artist after graduating college, but instead of selling her work, she found herself falling back on her waitressing gig to get her enough money to pay the rent and bills. Before the attack, she had still managed to paint at least once a week, but now, everything had changed and nothing seemed worth putting into watercolors.

Despite all that was around her and all that she had been through lately, Alice had tried to remain positive. Her father had always told her that the best way to get through a tough spot was to spot the good. And today, her good was that the sun was shining, the sky was clear, and she was going to make some money tonight.

The diner wasn’t especially packed—though really, it never was. The afternoon, late lunch crowd of road-weary truckers and passer-throughs still lingered at their tables, as Maria and Annie finished their last rounds. Behind the old wooden counter, Pete was tossing back a beer with a couple of customers Alice recognized vaguely from when she used to work mornings and afternoons.

Pete raised his brown bottle to the ladies as they walked in the door, proclaiming for all the customers to hear, “Girls! The evening shift begins!” With his fiery red hair that curled into loops around his face and his thick body, Pete reminded Alice of Bacchus, the god of parties and festivals.

Maria slyly paused in front of the girls. “He’s been like this all day,” she whispered. “Have fun with it.” Her hazel eyes rolled dramatically, as she sighed heavily. She tossed Caroline her black apron, as she turned around to face her boss and called out, “I’m out, Pete!” Annie followed soon after, handing over her apron to Alice.

The girls met Pete behind the countertop, ready for their evening instructions. “Let’s see…” He glanced down on his clipboard full of scribbled ruled paper. “I have Alice working tables one through eight and taking phone orders. Caroline, you’ve got the bar and tables nine through thirteen. Should be a good night. Jace tells me there’s some big MMA fight happening at eleven o’clock tonight, so you two will probably get the dinner rush before they head to the stadium.”

Caroline and Alice nodded, grabbing their supplies for the evening. Alice spent much of it running back and forth from the tables to the phone. The chaos and rush of being a waitress was almost a respite for her. Instead of focusing on her problems or the empty canvas back home, she put all of her energy on being perky and polite to the mostly men who dined at the Tick Tock.