Page 9 of Psycho Saviors

I frowned at him, thrown off by this bizarre side of him. He looked sincere as he watched me, his head cocked to the side. His nose was a little crooked and bruising now, and dried blood speckled the edges of his nostrils.

We were stuck together, and he may potentially be the last person I ever talked to.

Telling someone else my horrors, sharing my pain, maybe it could be something I could use if these were indeed my last moments.

“Okay,” I said as I let out a deep breath. “Well, when I was sixteen, my parents sold me to some guy to help fund their addictions. A few months locked in a room at his place, and I fell pregnant,” I started, my gaze moving to where Kenny had emerged from under the bed.

He jumped up onto the bed, and I instantly reached out, taking comfort in his soft fur as he rubbed against my legs.

I paused, hating how my throat tightened at the memories of that place, of that room, of him, flashed through my mind like a macabre photo-shoot.

“What happened?” Julian asked as he leaned into my side more, his warmth a small comfort in this hellhole plagued by my horrid past.

“I carried her to full term, he said he wanted us to be a family. He still took advantage of me, used me, and honestly, it’s a miracle I didn’t miscarry her,” I said as I bit back the tears, digging my fingernails into my legs to stave off the pain and despair flirting around me. “I birthed her, right there in that room, all alone because he went out for a beer run. Dunno how I did it, but I did, and then I held her, my beautiful little Lily. Her cries were awakening, and I wanted out of that shit-hole the first chance I got, but I needed to recover. He came home, and seemed happy about her being born in his own way. I wonder if he would’ve hurt her the way he hurt me,” I muttered, the gut-wrenching thought making me feel sick. “But it didn’t matter, not even a week later, he went off on me because I wasn’t ready to lay with him after giving birth, and he blamed her. Said she was better off dead, we both were, and he suffocated her. I tried to fight him…” My voice broke, and I closed my eyes as a lone tear slid free, betraying my will. “But she died. A few weeks after that, he stupidly left the door unlocked, and I ran back to my parents. I shouldn’t have done that, but I did, and they were furious,” I spat. I still remembered that day far too vividly.

I was beyond broken, malnourished and bruised, as I stood before my parents’ place in the rundown part of town. The lone barking of a dog in the neighborhood had me tightening my arms around me, the cool nip of the night air sending a chill down my spine. My bare feet were cut up from running here, fleeing that wicked man, and I stood silently for a few moments, deliberating my next move. The streetlight had flickered, as if coaxing me onward, and I’d padded up the cracked stone path to the front door, the yard overgrown from years of neglect, weeds snaking up the chipped outside walls. I jumped the broken front step, one that had given way when I was a child when my father had stumbled up it, high as a kite.

It had never been repaired.

My heart hammered as I stood before the front door, fear and uncertainty swirling in my core. Would they be disappointed? They’d told me I was to be his, to take care of him in all the ways he desired.

I’d failed them, but he’d been cruel, he’d hurt me. Taken from me.

I clutched at my now barren stomach, the memory making tears sting my eyes as her cries echoed in my mind. Would they even care? Had they known I was pregnant? I’d not spoken to them since he’d taken me after he’d handed over the money.

But they were my parents, and some small part of me, that lonely, broken child, held hope that they’d protect me, comfort me in this painful time. How I’d found the strength to actually run after everything was beyond me, but I couldn’t bear to be there any longer. Not the place Lily had died.

I sucked in a breath and knocked, the screen door rattling from my efforts. A few moments passed before the wooden door behind swung open, my father’s scowling face greeting me.

“What do you want?”

I stared at him, my heart plummeting as tears surged to the surface. Did he not care? Did he not even recognize me?

“Dad, it’s me,” I whimpered, a sob escaping me as his brow furrowed even more.

His eyes were glassy, and I wondered just what he’d taken today. Surely he knew who I was though, right?

“Why are you here?” he barked as he shoved the screen door open, forcing me to take a few steps back to avoid it. “You don’t belong here.”

“Dad, please, he hurt me, my baby…” I croaked, the sobs tearing me apart.

“You stupid little whore,” he spat as he lashed out, grabbing my arm with a vice-like grip. “He’s going to come looking for you or his goddamn money.”

I cried, the last shreds of my hope crumbling into pieces as he yanked me inside and threw me onto the floor.

“What’s this bitch doing back?” my mother slurred as she slid off the stool by the kitchen counter and stood before me. “You belong to what’s-his-face now.”

“Ma, he hurt me,” I cried, bowing my head as the pain clutched my chest.

Why couldn’t they care? Why did they hate me so much? Why was I even born?

I cried out as my father yanked me off the floor, my head snapping to the side as pain bloomed in my cheek from the slap.

“You think you can just run from your responsibilities?!” he snarled before tossing me back on the floor.

“You have debts to pay, you little slut,” my mother spat. “I knew I should’ve aborted you. Fucking useless piece of shit.”

I cried as I curled into a ball, my father kicking into my already frail body.

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