Page 15 of Ruthless Son

My sweet, naive sister who had been raised with doting parents and a protective family, had shunned it all to move to a fucking trailer park in Ohio. She couldn’t meet a guy online who lived in New York and owned a sweet little condo, walking distance to Fifth Avenue… no, not my sister! She had to make things difficult for everyone involved.

But I wasn’t bitter. Deep breath.

Millie stirred from her slumber, and I paused my rustling to check if she was waking up or just restless. Her bruises were starting to yellow, and it made it look like she had jaundice because there were so many marks on her skin. I seethed silently, imagining the rat-faced little shitstain who’d left her in that car wreck to fend for herself. I wanted to hurt him. As a nurse, I knew many ways I could hurt someone and not leave any evidence. Not that I’d ever thought of doing that.

As my little sister settled back into sleep, I plucked a clear sheet of paper from the notepad on the little table, and scribbled a few words so that if she woke up while I was gone, she wouldn’t worry. I grabbed my bag as quietly as I could, and stepped softly into the hall.

Millie’s lack of personal belongings was bugging me, and I couldn’t just sit there and wait for her to wake up, she could sleep for hours with how exhausted her body was from the crash and the recovery.

I’d saved the Uber driver’s number in my phone instead of having to keep going on the app. The internet was spotty sometimes and I didn’t want to get caught stranded somewhere. I could just hire a car, but that would entail driving on the wrong side of the road, and I wasn’t willing to take that risk. I was planning on getting home in one piece, not in a bed beside my sister.

When he—who I found out was called George—pulled up within ten minutes, I had to ask him if he lived close to the hospital. But no, turned out I was his only customer at the moment, everyone else was a local, and didn’t need his services very often. More often than not, he spent his free time doing some gardening for the retirees, which he would be joining the ranks of very soon, or so he said with a large grin that he flashed at me in the rearview mirror.

That smile quickly turned upside down when I gave him the address of my destination. “What’s a pretty tourist like you wantin’ to go all the way over there?” Concern laced his tone as he sat twisted, looking at me over the driver seat.

“I won’t be long, I need to grab some of my sister’s stuff and then I’ll be out of there,” I stated clearly. “I’ll stick an extra $30 on top of whatever you’re charging me for the lift if you would wait outside for ten minutes while I run in.”

“Well, you don’t have to pay me no extra, ma’am. I’d wait for free.” I’d offended the older man, and he faced forward, muttering to himself about women doing stupid things and how his mama didn’t raise no wuss.

The scenery changed as we headed to our destination. Lush trees and mountain ranges turned into run-down trailers, tires and all manner of trash was thrown into front gardens. Kids that were too young to be out on their own played in overgrown grass, and stopped to stare at the unknown car that passed.

“Are you sure you wanna go here?” George clutched the steering wheel as if one of the residents would steal the car from under him. “It’s not an area we frequent,” the old man mumbled.

It didn’t look much different to some areas of London, and I would never judge those that came from a poorer background. But I still couldn’t believe Millie left home to come and live out here.

The place George pulled up outside of was nicer than most. It was clear Millie took after her mum with the green thumb. She had placed pots of brightly colored flowers around the perimeter, and it spruced the place up—a rose among the thorns.

“I will literally be in and out, ten minutes tops, George.” I pushed the door open and climbed out. The curtains of the trailer were closed to the outside world. Hopefully that meant that no one was home. I wanted to confront Mickey, I really did. But I also just wanted to get Millie’s stuff and rush back so she wasn’t at the hospital by herself too long. A confrontation would take up too much of my time right now.

Eventually the time would come, when I told him to his face what a piece of shit he was.

The front door opened with a good shove, and the smell hit me first. Old food containers littered the counter that separated the little lounge and kitchen area, the bin overflowing with beer cans and other mess. The air was stale and musty, with a hint of the grease from the takeaway tubs.

I ignored everything except the direction of the hallway that clearly led to the bedroom. It was worse than the living room. Dirty sheets lay crumpled on the bed, cigarette butts overflowed from the lone ashtray on the little side table. It reeked of sweat and smoke and something else I didn’t want to try and guess.

It was clear that Mickey wasn’t keeping the place clean while Millie had been laid up in the hospital, but her presence was still here.

Her clothes hung on the rail in the far corner, and her books were stacked on her side of the bed. Grabbing a duffel from the bottom of the closet, I started shoving in as much as I could of her things. I didn’t stop to fold it neatly, she could complain later when I gave her the stuff back.

The little shower room held a shelf full of her cosmetics, swiping my arm across, I pulled it all into the bag, listening to the glass bottles clink against each other and hoping nothing broke in my hazardous rush to get done.

On a whim, I shoved her books in, the stupid romance novels that she always had her nose stuck in, imagining her own fairy tale was always her problem. She thought they were real, and that someday she’d find her ‘soul mate’ or whatever the hell that was.

Everyone knew that love was just a chemical reaction—adrenaline and dopamine that caused sweaty hands, racing hearts and that tingling feeling in the pit of your stomach that precedes a good banging. Or maybe I was just cynical and laying all of my own experiences at Millie’s feet.

The duffel was heavy on my shoulder, the books adding a weight that almost dragged me down. But if they made her happy, and it puts the light back in her eyes, then I’d buy her more trashy novels to engross herself in, even if I thought they were pointless.

Indistinct murmuring reached me from outside. Pulling the curtain aside, I peeked through the gap.

George stood in front of a swaying Mickey as he tried to push past.

“Oh shit.”

Pulling drawers out, I threw everything out in a desperate rush to find the most important item.

Boxers and T-shirts flew over my head as I dug around in every drawer, in every cupboard.

There was shit everywhere.

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