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  Little Things Copyright © 2014 Madison Street

  Published by Madison Street

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book 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 person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: Madison Street, June 2, 2014:

  Editing: Tiffany Tillman

  Cover Design: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Formatting by: Brenda Wright

  This book is intended for a mature audience of eighteen and older.

  To my husband, Carlos.

  You are and will always be my savior.

  Having you in my life is a gift.

  So, here is my gift to you.

  Raya

  “Raya, come help us with the boxes. Bring them up into the spare room.” My mother is so organized and she can never have anything out of place. I groan loudly, bend down, and pick up a heavy-ass box. “Yes, mother.” I make my way into the house and upstairs, only to trip on the steps. The box crashes to the ground and the glasses inside make a cracking noise.

  “Shit, I hope he didn’t hear that.” I look around to see if Craig is nearby. Luckily, I don’t see him anywhere and breathe a sigh of relief. I get up to inspect the box; it looks like a few of the picture frames cracked. Damn, I’ll need to hide them and replace them before Craig finds out. I make my way into my room and hide the broken frames in my dresser, underneath my folded shirts. I hurry over to the spare room and leave the box just inside the door. My mother can go through its contents and put them where they belong.

  I hate moving. This is our third move in two years. Our last location was Connecticut and apparently Craig thinks that living in The Bronx will be better for us. The crowds will help him blend. My mom married Craig when I was ten, a few years after my dad died. Craig takes care of everything—the bills, the food, and the location of where we live. He decides everything for us. My only free choice is my choice of appearance. I guess I can be grateful I get to pick out my own clothes.

  I head back downstairs to help my mom and Craig with the remaining boxes. “What took so long?” he asks as I pick up the final box.

  “Nothing, I was just looking around.”

  His dark eyes pierce into my soul as he tries to figure out if I’m lying or not. I feel his stare on me and cringe. He makes me so uncomfortable and my skin begins to crawl. Goose bumps begin to appear on my skin and the hair on my arm sticks up. I quickly look away and make my way inside the house.

  “Raya, head upstairs and fix up your room. I’ll call you down for dinner when it’s ready.” Craig comes up from behind me and takes the box away with a sly look on his face.

  “Okay, sure. Just let me know.” I race up the stairs and shut my door. Bouncing on top of my twin-size bed, I stare at the ceiling. I can’t wait until I turn eighteen and move the hell out of this place. If I can, I’m taking my mother with me. Craig treats me like shit, but he treats my mother even worse. Everything has to be his way, and if you have a problem with it, then he makes you see his way. My mother doesn’t deserve to be with him, but I know she’s too scared to leave. Throughout the years, the occasional yelling turned into daily arguments which escalated into fights and broken household items. I’m not even sure if she loves him anymore; I doubt it. How can she? Craig is a monster. He pulls off this facade that everything is fine. His peers and colleagues have no idea what happens at home.

  A shallow tear escapes the corner of my eye and trickles down the side of my face. “Just one more year, Raya. Just one more year,” I coach myself to hold on to hope, never giving up faith that my mother and I can escape this prison. I turn over and lie on my side and close my eyes to dream of a place where I can be free to do anything I desire. In my dream, I’m able to have friends, go out on dates, and even go see a movie every now and then.

  “Raya!! Time for dinner. Get down here, now!” My eyes shoot open at the sound of Craig’s demand. A quick glance out the window tells me it has gotten darker. Shit, I must have fallen asleep. Jumping off my bed, I race to the bathroom and wash my face. I can’t look like I’ve napped without permission. Quickly grabbing a towel and drying my face, I glance in the mirror and do a quick inspection of my appearance. My long, brown hair has curls touching my mid-back and I comb my fingers through it to take out the frizz. My blue eyes look heavy and glassy—like I’ve just woken up. Shit! I glance down to see my light blue shirt wrinkled. Fuck! Racing to my dresser, I pull out a new shirt and quickly change. Inspecting myself in the mirror one last time, I pray that it’s good enough.

  I hurry out of the room and downstairs to meet them in the dining room. The table is already set and Craig is sitting at one end. My mother is patiently waiting to eat in the seat next to him.

  “Well, what took you so long this time?” Craig asks. He folds his arms across his chest and I can practically see his face turn a dark red.

  I look down at the table and talk with a low and feeble voice, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long. It won’t happen again.”

  “What were you doing in your room?” He insists on getting to the bottom of this.

  “Craig, please, let’s just eat. The food is getting cold,” my mother pleads with him and touches his arm, offering a kind gesture. I sit next to her and stare at Craig who is glaring at my mother. “Genna, I didn’t ask you to say anything. Your daughter is not responding to my question, and frankly, I want to know why.” He glares at me and I still with fear. I can’t get the words out as my throat begins to close and I feel the tears building.

  He quickly retreats from his chair and heads up the stairs toward my room. My mother and I rush behind him. Craig enters my room, and as I enter behind him, I notice my dresser drawer is open. Craig sees the open drawer and heads toward it. My breathing stops as I begin to panic. The broken frames are in there. Shit. Turning to my mom, I plead for her to make him stop. She gives me a look, nods, and grabs hold of my hand; she’s on my side.

  Craig dives into the open drawer and starts tossing around my folded shirts. “Craig, sweetie, let’s go eat dinner. Raya will clean this up afterward, okay?” She lets go of my hand and walks up behind Craig, placing her hand on his shoulder.

  “Genna, shut the fuck up or I will make you!” he growls as he finds a broken frame. He stops digging and takes out the shattered glass. It’s a picture of him and my mother at Atlantic City.

  “What happened, Raya?” he barks at me.

  I gain the last shred of courage I have and respond, “I tripped on the stairs with the boxes earlier. I plan on fixing the frames; honestly.” He takes the frame and throws it across the room, shattering it against the wall. The glass sprays all across the floor as I jump from the noise.

  “Craig, it was an accident. Raya will pay for the other frames. Let’s just forget about this,” my mother pleads with Craig as he stalks toward me. She gets in between us and puts her hands up to him. “Craig, stop! It was an accident!”

 
I begin to cry because I know what’s coming for me. Suddenly, he stops walking toward me. He then looks at my mother and slaps her across the face, causing her to fall onto the broken glass. “I told you to shut the fuck up, woman! How dare you defy me?”

  I rush to my mom and help her get up. “Mom, are you okay?” She glances at me and has blood dripping down the side of her cheek and her hand is cut. “I’m fine, honey, promise.”

  No, this is not fine. I stare at Craig who is chuckling with evil laughter. “How dare you touch her? You have no right to hit a woman. I’m calling the police!” Letting go of my mother, I pull my cell phone out of my jeans pocket.

  Craig snatches the phone and snarls into my ear, “You call the police and I will hurt her for real next time.”

  My body is frozen with shock and fear. I glance up into his eyes and realize he’s not lying. He will hurt her if I call for help. I can’t be the reason for my mother’s pain; I will not cause it. Living without my mother is not an option and I will do everything I can to help her.

  “Okay, I won’t call them,” I surrender. With just a few steps, I’m next to my mother and assisting her off the floor. She needs to get cleaned up before the blood dries. “Come on, let’s go clean you up.” Gently holding her shoulders, I lead her to my bathroom.

  Suddenly, Craig pulls her from my grasp. “Actually, I’m not done with your mother”.

  My heart stops and my jaw drops. “What! You said you wouldn’t hurt her!”

  He grabs hold of my hair and tosses me onto the bed. “Don’t worry, Raya, I don’t plan on hurting her”. He chuckles as he exits the room with my mother in his grip and shuts the door. I bolt to the door and try to pull it open, but it’s locked. I pull and pull but it doesn’t budge open. Shit. He must have added locks when I was asleep. Banging on the door, I call out to her, “Mom! Mom!!” My crying screams echo throughout my room and all I hear is silence.

  Duke

  “Damn, Duke, you smell so good. Let’s just hurry up and get this over with. I’m about to combust!” says Melanie. We’re both in my bed and she’s sitting on top of me, practically begging me to take the reins. I am one lucky son of a bitch. The hottest girl in school is my girlfriend and I’m going to take full advantage of that. Melanie practically purrs into my ear, whispering soft notes of desire, expressing what she’s going to do to me. She smells fuckin amazing—like raspberries and fresh rain, with a touch of coconut. Must be that new perfume I bought her.

  I sit up and take off her pink tank top and underneath is a hot pink lace bra. My hands go straight for her tits and I begin massaging them as I kiss her neck. My hard-on is pulsating against her stomach and it begins to ache with desire. She pulls off my wife beater and bends down to lick my chest and suck on my nipples.

  “Melanie, if you keep doing that, I’m not going to be easy on you.”

  She looks up at me, her green eyes burning with lust, and says, “Isn’t that the whole point?”

  I immediately flip her over and yank her jeans off.

  “Shit, Melanie, you asked for it.”

  I give her a devilish smirk as I bend down and devour her lips. Hmmm…cherry flavored Chap Stick—my favorite. My lips gently brush hers as I push farther into her mouth. She opens a little and her tongue gently glides along my bottom lip. “Fuck, Melanie” I breathe in deeply and exhale sharply. “Enough of this!” I say as I sit up to remove her bra and then slip off my jeans.

  My mouth grabs hold of her left breast while my right hand pinches the right nipple. Her nipples are a soft shade of pink and just the perfect size. Just big enough to fill my mouth and suck on all day as I please.

  I roll my boxers off of me and reach over to my nightstand to grab a condom. Looking back at her, she is naked except for those pink lace panties. Her breathing is ragged and loud and her eyes burn into mine with lust and excitement.

  “This is going to be fun” she says. She sits up to remove her panties and giggles a little. Her long, golden blonde hair barely covers her breasts and I can see her pink nipples poking through.

  I think to myself, Yeah, she’s ready.

  I slide on the condom and bend over her. I grab hold of my dick and place it near her throbbing, wet pussy. Looking down, I see her wetness dripping onto the sheet and her lips are so fuckin’ swollen. While looking at her, I slowly enter her, and notice she licks her lips.

  Her walls are tight around my dick but are slowly beginning to swallow it whole.

  “God, you feel so fucking good, Melanie. You are so tight right now.”

  “It’s all for you, baby. Just take me now, Duke!”

  Right when I’m about to pound the shit out of her, music starts playing in the background, and then a voice starts talking about traffic patterns and accidents on the freeway.

  I’m now lying in my bed, alone, and slowly open my eyes. I say to myself, “Fucking sex dream again. Nice one, Duke”. I hate those. They always end just when the good part starts. I look over at my clock radio and see it’s six-thirty in the morning. Counting Stars by One Republic is now playing. Such a great band. I love their music. I need to see them in concert one of these days.

  Lying in bed, I look up at the ceiling while thinking of Melanie—her soft, wavy golden hair, her emerald green eyes, her pearl colored skin, and her natural scent of coconut. Her lips are plump and moist with a hint of pink. I close my eyes and picture her on top of me again but this time she’s grinding me. Soft, purring moans escape from her lips as she closes her eyes and lets her body take over.

  I look back at the clock; six-forty-five. I have enough time for this. I grab hold of my morning wood with my right band and begin to stroke. I picture my dream again and pick up right where it ended—her walls squeezing my dick, her breathing shallow and fast, her breasts brushing against my chest, and her hands grabbing my ass. She pushes my ass into her causing my cock to travel deeper inside. I imagine Melanie saying, “Duke, I’m almost there! I’m going to come soon!”

  My strokes become faster and my hand grips my dick a little tighter. My breathing is intense, sweat dripping down my face, as I feel the climax building inside. I imagine Melanie coming underneath me as her walls pulsate around me, screaming my name. Fuck, I’m about to bust.

  My orgasm takes over my body as waves and waves of pleasure shoot out of my dick and onto my boxers. “Ahhhhh! Fuck!” My eyes are clinched shut as I hold my breath. Damn, that was intense.

  As my breathing staggers back to normalcy, I open my eyes and look down at the mess I’ve made. Yup, time to shower and head off to school.

  “Duke, my man! How was your summer?” I turn around and see one of my lacrosse teammates, Rob, walking toward me. I stroll toward him and give him a quick hug.

  “It was good, bro. Melanie and I finally got together. Took her long enough.” We both begin walking toward the school entrance and as I look up toward the building, I take a deep breath and am thankful that it’s my last year of high school.

  Rob turns to me and says, “I got a job during the summer at McDonald’s. Flipping burgers sucks, dude,” and starts chuckling.

  I bust out laughing and slap his back. “Hey, you wanted a car, but I don’t understand why. We live in New York City. There’s no need for a car.”

  Rob shrugs his shoulders. “The girls like to travel outside of the city, bro. Sometimes the city gets boring after a while.”

  I shake my head in response. “I could never get tired of this city.” As we walk toward our first class, I look down at my schedule. Alright, Forensics class first, Calculus, Senior English, and then American History. Not too bad. I should be done with school by one o’clock every day—just in time for lacrosse practice.

  As I make my way toward room 104 for Forensics, I hear my name coming from behind and turn to see whose talking. Melanie is approaching with a few of her friends. “Hi, baby!! Are you in this class?” Damn, my girlfriend is hot. I get a good look at her. She’s wearing
her blonde hair in a high ponytail, a plaid skirt that’s about two inches above the knee, and a light pink blouse, that shows just enough cleavage. I love her look. She’s sexy, not slutty. Plus, she doesn’t wear a lot of makeup, which is another thing I love about her. She doesn’t need to try to so hard. I reach out to her and pull toward me, kissing her deeply on the lips as I hear her girlfriends say, “Awwwww, that’s so cute”.

  I realize I better stop kissing her before any of the teachers catch us making out in the hallway. As I pull away from her and look into her green eyes, I see adoration in them.

  “Yup, Rob and I have Forensics with Mr. Cerillo for the next hour. What’s your first period?” I glance at Rob and see him mackin’ on the girlfriends, telling them he is getting a car soon. Yeah, good luck with that, Rob.

  “Well, I have American History first in room 201. What time is your last period over?”

  I hear the first period bell ringing and see students scrambling through the halls, trying to get to class on time. There’s a guy, probably about a few inches shorter than me—I would say about five-eight—and he’s looking around the hallway while looking back at his schedule. Yeah, he’s a freshman and lost.

  “My last period is over at one, and then I have practice, so I should be done by four. I’ll call you later, okay?

  “Okay, babe. Good luck in class.” Melanie gives me a quick peck on the lips and skips off to class. I turn to Rob and glance at the lost freshman. “Rob, tell Mr. Cerillo I might be a little late. I’ve got to get this kid to class.”

  Rob takes a look at the lost freshman. “Taking in a lost orphan? Ha-ha, yeah, I’ll tell him. Hurry up, though. You don’t want to make a bad impression on your first day.”

  “Thanks, I should be just a few minutes.” I walk toward the freshman who’s clearly out of place. “You need help, bro?”

  He looks up at me with such surprise. “Huh, oh yeah, I’m lost. Can you tell? Where is room 115?”

  “Oh, that’s on the other side of the building, in the East Wing. Come on, I’ll walk you. What class is that?” We begin walking to the other side of the building. Damn, I’m going to be at least fifteen minutes late to class. Shit.