11. Too Many Secrets

                                    

                                          
Her heart thundered in her ears. Beside her, Dallas swallowed thickly. Tony took their silence as an invitation to step closer. Immediately, Dallas's hand rested on his sister's shoulder and pulled her behind him. Now barely ten feet away, Tony cooed.
                          
"That's real sweet Dal, are you trying to protect her? Because you didn't seem so worried about her when you ran away."
                          
His voice held a certain cheeriness, almost like he enjoyed watching Hannah squirm under his patronizing gaze. "How did you find us? No bullshit lies, either."
                          
He scoffed and stared down at his nails. "Oh, you know. I've got eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. But what I'm wondering about, is that sister of yours, Dally."
                          
Her knees felt weak as she moved forwards, now standing beside her brother instead of behind him. Her voice was much quieter than she wanted it to be. "What do you want?"
                          
The same smile he wore all those nights ago in the alley was back, burning its way into her mind. "Come here, Hannah."
                          
She shrugged Dallas's hand away as pebbles scattered under her feet. The first words he ever spoke to her came rushing back.
                          
 "Do you know what I'm capable of? You don't want to find out, so you better listen to me."
                          
Tony crossed the pavement to meet her halfway and lunged. Terrified and taken off guard, she had no opportunity to fight back. The older boy pulled her into him, one arm draped around her shoulders, the other around her waist. He stunk of cologne, and now his hot breath warmed her neck and face. "I missed you doll, the city was so lonely without you."
                          
It would've been easy to pull her knife from her pocket, then she could cut him and escape. But as long as he thought she had no weapon, maybe he wouldn't pull his. If Tony used his blade, there would be no telling what Dallas would do. Tony's fingers traced her collarbones.
                          
"So, tell me, what was the reunion like? What did you tell him, Hannah?"
                          
"Nothing," she snarled. "Just tell us what you want!"
                          
Tony's eyes widened, as did his cruel smile. Dallas paced back and forth in front of them.
                          
"So he never told you about Dominic?"
                          
Dallas stopped pacing and raised his finger accusingly at the boy. "Don't you fucking dare," he seethed. Tony chuckled lowly as his hand roamed from her waist to her hips, then up to her stomach. Her mouth went dry and her fingers began to shake as his fingers stretched towards her chest. "Isn't she pretty Dal?"
                          
Dallas was back to pacing, this time grinding his teeth. Hannah chewed on her bottom lip and kept her eyes shut tight.
                          
Please. Please just let this be a nightmare.
                          
"I asked you a question, Dallas," Tony growled.
                          
 He only rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she's a real looker, now let her go."
                          
Hannah's breath hitched as Tony's grip tightened around her. While her own chest pounded with agonizing terror, his boomed with laughter.
                          
"It's funny you say that, 'cause so many guys back home agree with you." He lowered his voice and spoke into her ear. "Are you going to tell him? Or should I?"
                          
"No." Hannah's voice was nearly identical to Verna's. Small, scared and exhausted. Dallas stopped moving for a second time, a shadow of fear disappeared before it could be identified. "What guys?"
                          
"It's kind of ironic, don't you think? The same people that are supposed to be protecting you, are the ones who let you down the most."
                          
Tony laughed again, all while staring at Dallas. "First, your brother leaves. He leaves you, a nine-year-old girl, to deal with his mess. Then, your father is a raging alcoholic who most nights, mistakes you for his wife, and hits you accordingly. And the cherry on top, your mother brings men home from the bar, and in exchange for money, gives them her daughter. How much are you worth again? A dollar for fifteen minutes?"