Chapter 4 The Demon's Voice

The slap came before Millie even saw it coming. A sharp crack of skin against skin that sent her stumbling into the kitchen counter, the edge biting into her rib. The plate she'd been holding shattered on the floor, shards scattering like tiny daggers.

"You think you can walk around here like you're somebody?" Dan's voice roared through the cramped house. "Clean that up!"

Her cheek burned. Her eyes watered. But she didn't cry-not anymore. Crying only made it worse.

"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, falling to her knees to pick up the broken porcelain.

"Damn right you are," Dan muttered, cracking open a beer as he walked away.

She had been sixteen then. Her mother had been gone for almost a year-dead in a car crash Dan swore wasn't his fault, though he was the one driving drunk. After that, everything had gone to hell. Dan had become her guardian in name only. What he really was, was a monster with hands that bruised and a mouth that broke her spirit.

The first few times, Millie had told herself it was grief. He was hurting. They both were. But months passed, and the hits kept coming. Not just slaps. Punches. Shoves. Kicks to her side when she couldn't stand fast enough. No one at school asked about the bruises. No one cared.

So, she endured. Because the only other option was the streets. And at least at Dan's house, there was food-sometimes. A bed. A door she could lock at night.

She learned to be invisible. Quiet. Careful. Until last night, when she finally ran.

Millie blinked back to the present. The motel room was washed in the gray light of early morning. Her body ached in a different way now, one not from violence but from the tenderness of Alex's touch.

She sat up slowly, pulling the sheets tighter around her chest. Her gaze flicked to where he stood by the window, shirtless, drawing back the curtain just enough to peek out. The tension in his shoulders was back. Whatever calm they had found during the night was fading fast.

"Is it safe to leave?" she asked softly.

"Yes, for now," he replied without turning.

Millie looked down at her hands, unsure of what to say. The intimacy they shared last night still lingered on her skin, but now it felt fragile, like a dream pressed between the pages of a book.

Alex finally spoke. "There's a shelter in the next town. It's quiet. Protected. The woman who runs it owes me a favor."

Millie's heart sank. "You're taking me there?"

He nodded. "You'll be safe. They'll help you start over."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, her voice hesitant. "What if he finds me there? Can't I stay with you instead?"

"I wouldn't be in the way," she rushed on. "I can clean or- or just stay out of sight."

Alex's silence was deafening. His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes flickered-pain, maybe. Or regret.

"I'm not good company," he said at last.

Millie looked away, trying to hide the sting in her chest. "Right."

They packed in silence. By the time they reached the shelter, the sun was already high in the sky. The building was old but neat, with yellow paint on the walls and flowers blooming in pots on the steps. A middle-aged woman greeted Alex like an old friend, her eyes briefly scanning Millie with concern.

"She's been through a lot," Alex told her quietly.

"I can see that," the woman said kindly. "She'll be safe here."

Alex nodded and turned to Millie, pulling something from his pocket. A cheap black burner phone.

"Only use this if you're in trouble," he said, placing it in her palm.

After that, there was no hug. No take care. No goodbye. He simply turned and walked away.

Millie stood on the steps long after he was gone.

***

The room they gave her was small but clean, with pale blue sheets and a window that overlooked the garden. She unpacked slowly, placing the burner phone on the nightstand like it was a lifeline.

That night, she lay awake, the memory of Alex's hands on her skin a constant ache. She missed the rough texture of his voice, the gentleness hidden beneath his calloused exterior. The way he looked at her like she wasn't invisible.

And then there were other memories. Harsher ones.

The time Dan kicked her so hard she couldn't walk for two days. The time he made her miss school because her face was too bruised. She had endured because she thought maybe, someday, someone would see her. Save her.

Alex had.

But now he was gone.

Maybe he was only using her. Maybe he was just like Dan a pretentious monster that only wanted to hurt her. Her thoughts dragged Alex between the line of good or evil.

Then, a knock on the door startled her.

"Millie?" The shelter's caretaker peeked in. "You have a phone call."

Her brow furrowed. "Who is it?"

The woman looked confused. "Didn't say. Just asked for you by name."

Millie's heart thudded. She walked to the front desk, picked up the corded phone.

"Hello?" she said, her voice small.

A low chuckle answered her. Familiar. Cruel.

"Hey, sweetheart," came Dan's voice on the other end.