“Hey!” I scream when she is halfway through the room, walking fearlessly through the testosterone-driven minefield.  “That’s my son and I won’t let her keep him from me!”

Judging by her smile, I would guess that my reaction is just what she was hoping for.  After all, how would she dig the knife deeper if I hadn’t spoken up?

“Oh, silly me.  I forgot the best part of your bedtime story.  He isn’t yours.  He’s Mason’s.”  She throws her head back and lets out an evil cackle.  “That’s right.  Mason and Mercedes—they’ve been sleeping together for the last four years.  They’ve been trying for a baby for the last two.  Didn’t you find it odd that the woman who made you wear a condom ended up pregnant?  Took longer than they thought since she had to be careful not to show her hand to you and your brother had to finalize his divorce and all.”

Before she leaves, she pushes her hand into her purse and throws something on my lap. Then she turns her back to my shocked face and clicks out the door on her heels.

She doesn’t even spare her son a second thought as she takes off.  How she can just so carelessly throw me away again and again will never make sense to me.  Nevertheless, she’s finally won.  Taken everything I had left to live for and slapped me in the face with what she’s been drilling into my head my whole life.

Everything and everyone I’ve ever touched has been ruined.  The evilness she embodies and the demons that have been nipping at my heels since I started walking have won.

With nothing left to give, I pick up the item on my lap and feel that hope inside me die a painful death.

Mason, with his arms around Mercedes, is the first thing I see in the close-up shot.  The second is the little baby in her arms.  The little baby that looks nothing like me.  Mason’s son.  I close my eyes and allow the only tear I’ll ever shed over my life to roll down my cheek.

Never again.  I will never allow myself to harm someone else.

I’m a broken man.

A broken man with black hole left where his heart used to be.

I’ll get past this, but I will never open myself up to this kind of pain again.

A blessed life is something I have never known, so I’m not sure why I ever hoped to feel its glory.

Chapter 5—Emmy—Past

Night after night, all I have is the stage, my spotlight, and Shawn.  Since the night he raped me in the back dressing room six months ago, things have gotten out of hand.  The Ram just looks past his rough hands, and Ivy thinks it’s just wonderful that I have such a strong and handsome man.  When I tried to tell her that that ‘strong and handsome man’ was raping her daughter daily, she laughed.  Told me that I needed to grow up and start learning how to please my man.

What the hell is wrong with these people?!

It will be over soon, I remind myself.  That’s the only thing that pushes me to keep going, to not give up.  I’ve saved every single dollar I’ve made at Syn.  Being the ‘Princess of Syn’ and knowing what the hell I’m doing when I take the stage have their benefits.  They toss money to me left and right.  I could leave tonight, but I want to get past this last weekend and get the high rollers who always hit Syn when it’s the end of the month.  Payday for most, and that’s when the biggest money gets tossed onto my stage.

“You’re up in ten, Rose!” Diamond yells as she rushes past me to go change, her huge, fake tits bouncing up and down.

The smell of her…arousal makes me gag.  I’ll never understand how she gets off stripping.  I guess, for her, it’s an exhibition type thing.  She loves being watched.  Not for me though.  I hate showing all these men my body.  That’s why I demand that the house lights get turned down and only a spotlight.  It shields them from me in a way.  I get up there and try to forget that I’m dancing naked for them.  I let the music take over my body.  At this point, it moves as if on autopilot.  I go out there, do what is expected of me, and then take my money and run.  Usually, I just run right into another piece of my hell.

Shawn.

Over the last month, he has become more and more violent, his hands leaving bruises against my arms and hips.  Recently, he’s left them around my neck, causing me to get creative with my makeup.  I stopped fighting him a while back—when it became clear that he got off on my struggles.  I have a feeling that his escalated roughness is because he wants me to fight.  I just don’t care anymore.  I’m so close to leaving that there isn’t much more he can do to damage me.