Baby in the Corner

By Allison Barrett

Baby Morris didn't grow up like everyone else. The outside world was a myth other girls told to cope with a life they didn't want. Only, now Baby is in the real world and learning that sun really does exist. With new realities come new experiences. High school and relationships are hard enough for ordinary people, but Baby Morris' unsettling past and ignorance of teenage normalcy adds another layer of complexity to an already difficult task. Baby tries to hide the truth of her dark history as she navigates falling in love and making friends, but that's easier said than done. Especially when one of Baby's new friends turns out to be the same boy responsible for upending Baby's life the first time around. Not to mention that Baby has caught the attention of the school's mean girl. Will she be able to keep her secrets, or will Baby's world come crashing down yet again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allison Barrett
• Release date: Mar 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005143008

Allison Barrett

Allison Barrett is not your average writer. For starters, she has written many books over the course of her lifetime, but this is the first time she's been brave enough to publish. Why, you ask? It's not just lack of self-esteem or the run-of-the-mill fear of failure, it's years of living under someone else's narcissistic gaslighting making her feel as though nothing she does will ever be good enough and that she doesn't even deserve to try. But Allison has finally had enough living by someone else's expectations and has decided trust her mighty pen (or in this case, keyboard and mouse) with her only goal being that she actually clicks the upload button this time.P.S. When Allison gains a little more confidence, she'll share a bit more about all the different cogs that make her brain tick, tick, tick.

Book preview

Baby in the Corner

Copyright 2022 Allison Barrett

Published by Allison Barrett at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About the Author

Disclaimer

The contents of this book are purely fictional. This book contains storylines that may be sensitive to some readers. There is no graphic portrayal of sex, but it does allude to sexual abuse and assault that occurred prior to the events of this book. It is not the opinion of this author that all victims of sexual abuse or assault or that someone learning of someone else's experience with sexual abuse would respond in the manners depicted in this book. Sexual Assault and abuse are serious subjects and should be treated as such. It is not the intention of this book to make light of the real trauma many men and women have faced. For information about resources available to victims of sexual assault visit www.rainn.org.

Anyone affected by sexual assault, whether it happened to you or someone you care about, can find support on the National Sexual Assault Hotline. The phone number is 1-800-656-HOPE

You can also visit online.rainn.org to receive support via confidential online chat.

Chapter 1

"It’s my boy’s eighteenth birthday tomorrow, the round man walking next to Dennis brags as he leads him down the hallway to the room where we’re all sitting. The other girls glance around anxiously but I just sit on my knees, hands neatly folded in my lap and wait. This is his present."

"A great present, Dennis’s voice is reassuring and calm, like it always is when there’s a client here. You’ve made sure he understands the rules, of course."

"Oh, yes, yes," the portly man agrees. I didn't need to see him to know what the man looked like. He was a regular, here more often than most.

They round the corner and I get my first good glimpse of them. Dennis is wearing one of those suits. I don’t like the suits. They make him look old. I wish he’d wear the t-shirt and faded jeans he wears when we’re alone all the time. Despite I know it's against the rules, I lift my eyes slightly to catch a glimpse of him as the other girls file into line next to me, sinking to their knees. The blond next to me is trembling. I’ll never understand why they’re so scared when Dennis comes into the room.

"Here they are, Dennis coos. His hand stretches out and spans the length of the line. All a good choice for a first timer, like your son."

"Well, it’s not exactly his first time," the big man bellows with a chuckle. He digs his elbow into Dennis’s side as he laughs and Dennis forces a smile. When his eyes sweep out again, I drop my gaze to the floor. Good girls don’t disobey rules. Rules say when clients are here, our eyes stay aimed at the floor.

"Well, then, perhaps he’ll want someone with experience, Dennis suggests. We have several women…"

"He’ll want someone young, the big man barks. He likes small girls."

"Of course, Dennis’s voice is losing its false pleasantry at being cut off. Dennis is a business man, but no one has ever accused him of patience. Why don’t you take a look at the girls and tell me which one you think he’d like best?" he suggests.

"It would be a lot easier if I could see them better," the man complains. I can imagine his eyes sweeping the line, as they always do. But then, I'm a good girl who follows the rules, so I'm not supposed to know that.

"Girls," Dennis gives his order with a single word. As I rise to my feet, the trembling blonde next to me follows. Most of the girls know better than to disobey. It’s not like Dennis would hurt anyone in front of a client, but there have been several incidents after the strangers leave. Personally, I’ve never had to be reminded how to behave, but then, I’m not like a lot of the girls here. I didn’t come from somewhere else first. I’ve always been here. I’m used to Dennis.

The obese man parades down the line, scrutinizing each of us with his fat, sausage fingers stroking his mustache. Once he’s seen us all, he walks back again and stops between me and the blond. She’s a bit taller than me, but she’s thin and wiry in a way I’ll never be. His greedy eyes take us both in from head to foot and back again. I've never been his type before. I can only imagine I fit some sort of mold for his son. Shame you can’t put these two together, the man says in an indignant voice.

"Yes, well, they’re both quite beautiful, Dennis remarks as he steps up next to the man. I can smell the lingering sweetness of his cigar the moment he approaches and it’s like being home. The one on the left just arrived last week, but she’s very pliable. And the one on the right, well, there’s not much she’s not good at." The compliment is spoken with a bit of a softer voice and I have to fight the urge to smile because I’m not supposed to react. It’s one thing for Dennis to slip up and show affection toward me, but if the opposite happened… I can only imagine the hell I’d pay.

"New, you say? I watch the beady eyes of the man devour the blond. She shivers the tiniest bit and her hands twitch behind her back. Amateur. He can smell her fear, now. That is definitely his type. I’ll tell you what, he glances at me. I’ll take the brunette for my boy, and give the blonde a try for myself."

Her sob is embarrassing. Worse, it seems to excite the man even as it draws a hiss of disapproval from Dennis’s lips. Of course, Dennis says at once, leading the man back to the door. Let’s get the two of you set up in your rooms and I’ll have the girls brought in.

The man is reluctant to leave but the promise of getting what he wants does the trick. Dennis glares back at the girl as she trembles next to me, trying to keep a hold of herself and failing miserably. I wait until they’re completely out of view before I turn to her. Grow up.

She gasps through her tears as if she doesn’t understand me and several of the other girls rush around her to coddle her. Mimi, one of the older girls looks at me and shakes her head. What’s your problem?

"What’s hers? I ask pointing to the snot-covered wretch of a girl. She knows why we’re here. That guy wouldn’t have looked twice at her if she hadn’t been so damned scared. This is her own fault."

Mimi clucks her tongue at me. You know, I feel bad for you that you think this is all normal, she says before she turns back to the other girl.

I don’t know what the big deal is. We were born for this. Trained and instructed to do it and as long as we follow the rules, we’re treated very well – better than well. I don't lack for anything. I turn away and walk to the other side of the room where Dennis will come in to get us. I sit on a stool in front of a mirror and look at my reflection. My hair rolls over my pale shoulders in cresting mahogany waves. It frames my eyes and mouth which are void of makeup, just the way Dennis likes it. I apply a bit of clear lip balm, not because it makes me look any different, but because it helps keep them from getting chapped. Then I run my fingers through my hair and look back over my shoulder where the other girls are doing their best to calm the blond. Dennis is going to be livid when the man leaves.

The door opens and Dennis steps in. His eyes sweep the room and fall on me. I earn a nod with the barest of smiles before his face goes dark when it lifts to find the other one. I don’t wait to be called, but rather stand up and walk over to him. The blond has to be dragged by Mimi and another girl whose name I never bothered to learn. Dennis takes her wrist and gives her a shake. Stop it, right now, he scolds. This man is a very good client but he’s a sadistic fuck. If he thinks he can break you, he will. Stop blubbering and control yourself.

The blond nods, wide-eyed and sniffles as she tries to compose herself.

"Good, Dennis commends her despite that he’s still seething with pent-up rage. He won’t let it out yet, not with a client waiting, but I can see it coming. Baby, room twelve," he tells me with a sidelong glance and I walk out around him. He pulls the girl out into the hall and continues to talk to her. I hear him remind her about the rules and safe words and he reassures her that they’re always listening to what’s happening. She’s not in any real danger.

I’m curious about the son, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter. I arrive at room number twelve and push the door open. Given the robustness of his father, I’m not expecting the slip of a boy that’s waiting for me inside. His eyes lift from the floor as the door opens and they widen in surprise as if he hadn’t expected to see someone like me. My lips twitch up. He’s nervous, I realize instantly. He wipes the palms of his hands on the front of his slacks and his eyes flee my naked body in search of something else. I let the door close and saunter toward him as his eyes flick back to me over and over again. I watch his adam’s apple bob in his throat when I finally reach him.

"Most men are usually undressed and on the bed when I come in," I tell him as I set my fingers on the top button of his oxford shirt.

"I, um… he licks his lips nervously and sputters, his eyes dancing around. I’ve never done this before."

I nod. I know, I assure him calmly. But I have. You’re in good hands.

He stands there, fidgeting as I unbutton one plastic bead after the other, revealing a thin frame that lacks fat or even muscle tone. He’s just sort of there, like a skeleton with skin. I could count his ribs as I pull the ends of his shirt from his pants. Wait, he says and his hands grip my wrists. I look up at his face and see the trepidation there. Wait, I, um, I’m not sure I want… you don’t have to…

I smirk at him. His nervousness over this whole ordeal is sweet and a little pathetic if I'm being honest. I’m your birthday present from your father, I remind him. You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.

He swallows again, his adam’s apple bobbing high and tight. What… what exactly did my father pay for?

"Anything you want," I promise him and I slip my hands out of his loosening grasp. The shirt comes free and I run my hands up his stomach and chest, spreading them out over his warm skin to his shoulders. I push the shirt away and lean in to kiss his chest. Men like that. It makes them feel prized and worshipped. This boy, he shudders and exhales. I feel his growing excitement, swelling as his boner protrudes in his pants poking my stomach. So, I’ll have to do the leading. That’s not the worst thing in the world. Actually, it beats the hell out of being with a guy like his father.

I wake up in a fog, trying to remember where I am as I push the heavy blankets off my sweating body. It’s been weeks since I dreamed about that night – my last night. I rub my eyes and look around taking in the glittering shine of the morning sun on my room. It’s the first room I’ve ever had to myself – the kind that locks from the inside instead of the outside. And it’s filled with stuff. I have a twin-size bed that’s not meant for sharing or sex and a large dresser that boasts piles of clothing. Across the room is a desk with a lamp and the backpack Becky just purchased for me. Right. I’m supposed to be going to school today.

I glance at the alarm clock on my left and notice that it’s nearly six o’clock. I reach over and shut off the alarm I set even though I knew I wouldn’t need it. Still, this is the latest I’ve slept in a while. I climb out of bed and pad over to the closet door that houses even more clothing – something else I’ve never had before.

I sift through the t-shirts and dresses until I find the thin blue cotton one that the officer gave me when we finally made it to the precinct. I never wear it, but I like the way it looks and I can’t seem to throw it out. I hold it to my nose and inhale the sickly sweet scent of Becky’s laundry detergent. It reminds me of the perfume Mimi used to wear when she was picked to see clients. It’s a pleasant reminder of the past I was so comfortable with despite that everyone keeps telling me it was a horror.

Becky knocks softly on my door, not trying the knob because she knows it’ll be locked and I sigh, setting the hanger of the dress back on the rod. I’m awake, I call softly as I sift through the dresses again and pull out the yellow and white polka dot one she’d suggested I wear today. She said that yellow was a happy color and that it complimented my skin tone nicely. Considering I didn’t know much about fashion, I took her word for it. I pull the dress on without bothering with the undergarments she bought me. I know she means well but I just feel so trapped when I wear them and if I’m expected to make it through the entire day, I need to be somewhat comfortable.

I hear her a moment later in the kitchen, clanging pots around and I know she heard my muted reply. There will be eggs and toast waiting for me when I walk out there. At least that hasn’t changed.

The bathroom attached to my room has been filled with hair and makeup products, most of which I’ve never used before. Some of the other girls did, upon Dennis’s request, but he liked me better natural. As I glance in the mirror, I think of him and the way he used to admire me when we were alone. His fingertips trailing the edge of my face, his eyes burning into mine. I still find it hard to swallow what people say about him. I pick up the round paddle brush and run it through my hair. Gone are the waist-length wavy brown locks that Dennis loved and in its place are sheets of sleek strands that barely touch my shoulders. A new look for a new start, Becky had said. I hate it, but it had seemed to mean so much to her to do for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her once it was done. Just like the makeup had meant so much to her. I pick up a small plastic container with eyeshadow in it and apply it just the way she showed me until my eyes are framed with glittering bronze powder. Then I line my lashes with the cold black pencil and add the heavy, sticky mascara. Pearly, pink lip gloss rounds out the look and when I see my reflection again, I don’t even recognize myself. I suppose that’s a good thing since everyone keeps telling me that who I was wasn’t very good.

It feels mechanical as I slip on the white ballet flats Becky purchased last week when she’d decreed that I was ready to try school. The process had been slow – integrating me into society. A lot of therapists, some very frightening ventures out of the house to restaurants and the mall. I’d finally accepted the fact that people just didn’t grow up the way I did, but it doesn’t make living in the real world any easier. I pick up the simple white backpack and sling it over my shoulder the way Becky had shown me last night when she brought it home. It feels heavy and awkward. I’m not used to carrying things – I’m used to being carried.

I walk out to the kitchen and Becky turns, her big blue eyes wide and glittering with pride as she takes me in. You look beautiful, Baby, she coos. Then her smile falters. Are you sure that’s what you want to be called at school? It’s not too late to pick another name.

It’s the only name I’ve ever had, I say softly as I sling the bag down to the floor and slip into my usual chair at the counter. You can’t take everything away from me.

She looks stung, a bit. I know it’s not her fault. I’m not supposed to be upset that I don’t live there anymore. I’m not supposed to miss Dennis or any of the other stuff, but it’s hard to remember that sometimes. Oh, Baby, I’m sorry, she apologizes instantly. I never thought of it like that.

No, I say quickly as I read her reaction and I know I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. No, I’m sorry. This is all great. I appreciate everything you’ve done. It would just feel wrong to have people call me anything else.

Of course, she agrees and the stress leaves her. She walks around the counter and kisses my forehead. I suppose this is how mothers act, though I wouldn’t really know because I never had one. Of course. Baby is your name, she relents. I’m sorry I suggested anything was wrong with it. It’s a beautiful name and it suits you. Like in Dirty Dancing.

What’s Dirty Dancing? I ask as she moves back around the counter to tend to the stove.

Oh, it’s a lovely movie, she says with her back to me. We’ll watch it this week. You’ll love it, Baby. Becky likes movies. Especially ones about romance. I don’t really understand why, but she gets all emotional whenever we watch them. To me, it just seems like a bunch of people taking sex, something I understand, and adding feelings to it – something Dennis said was bad. The one time I mentioned it, Becky looked at me as if I was so broken I might never be fixed so I learned not to voice my opinions about it. I just agree with whatever she says about the movies now.

Okay, I agree.

Becky turns back to the counter and shovels a pile of eggs onto an empty plate in front of me. Eat. You don’t want to be late, she says with a smile.

I don’t need to be told twice. I like eggs. Dennis always made them for me when I spent the night with him, though it didn’t happen as often as I wanted it to. I think he was afraid I’d get those pesky emotions. I knew better than to tell him I liked spending time with him just like I know better than to tell my therapists that I