Page 30 of The Bitterness of Venom

I listen to the slam of my door, the loud clicks of Krystal’s heels, then let out a sigh.

Fucking women.

I’mthe first one on the ice at practice the next morning. Doing my morning warmup and stretches. The official start of the season is quickly approaching, and we seem to really be with it this year. Not like last year when everyone was out for themselves. This year we move like a real team.

Once everyone is warmed up, we do a scrimmage. I only miss one against my own team, so I’m feeling pretty great about the upcoming games. But unlike all the other seasons, this one doesn’t have my full concentration.

And there is only one person to blame.

TWENTY-ONE

Every dayI spend with the lonely girl with the ringlets, the more I realize I’m not meant to deal with hoarders. I’m supposed to help children. Her name is Ana. Finally got that out of her. And Ana is a mad little girl, and she has every right to be.

“Blaise!” Ana’s eyes light up, her tiny arms around my neck as she squeezes me into a small hug.

I hug her back, my eyes closing before I release her and take a seat in the child-size chair. We work in a comfortable silence as we color our pages of teddy bears. “Do youthink my parents will come for me?” she asks with a tiny frown on her face.

My heart twists as I look down to her. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. Praying those pieces of shit stay away from her.

“I really miss my mom and dad. Mrs. Sherry said they were sick and that made them do bad things, and that they had to spend some time in time-out so they can think about what they've done. But that was a year ago.” She hiccups. “I just want to go home, Blaise.” Her words break off at the end, a tiny tear falling down the apple of her cheek.

My eyes water as I watch this beautiful girl color her sorrows away.

“Sometimes I get to see them,” she continues. “There is always this thick see-through wall and telephones. My mom is always crying, and I wish I could just bust through the glass and hold her. I don't know why I can't touch her. I do know that when I get big, I'll be good. Adult time-out is scary.”

Finally finding my courage, I say, “Sometimes parents make mistakes. Sometimes they have to go away for a while so they can get better. Sometimes it's for the best, Ana. And I know that sucks but one day when you see them again, they won’t be sick anymore. They won’t be doing bad things, and you won’t have to see them through a glass wall. You'll be able to hold them again. And even if they don't come for you, someone will, and they'll love you so, so much.” My throat clogs as I stumble over my words.

She sighs. “If they don't come for me, promise me you will. Promise me you won’t leave me like they did, Blaise.”

I cup her face, her golden eyes swimming in tears. “I promise I won't leave you, Ana.”

She smiles, and we spend the rest of the time talking about a little shit named Trenton who likes to pull her pigtails.

Young love, I guess.

When I leave Ana,my heart protests for me to go back and take her with me even though my brain knows I can’t. I can barely survive by myself. And with the debt I’m in, the people I must be around, it’s not safe for Ana. And yet, my heart doesn’t seem to understand.

I know I said I don’t care about people, but unfortunately, I do. I have a bleeding fucking heart that never stops. No matter how many times I demand it to. And getting involved with children cuts me open. I knew there was a reason I stayed away from them.

I grumble something unintelligent as I push the door open to the bar. My two old men waiting for me like they always do.

“Don’t look so sad, sunshine. Your men are here.”

I snort, wrapping my apron around my waist, and begin wiping down glasses. “You know I’m no sunshine.”

“Ah, but you brighten our day.”

“Don’t you have wives to go home to?” I’ve always wondered why they hang out here after work every day.

“Nah, we were too mean to keep ’em.”

I look up to Rowdy to see if this saddens him, and it doesn’t. He’s grinning ear to ear. “I can see that.”

“Better watch it or you’ll end up like us.”

The statement has me stumbling. A month ago, I would have told them I didn’t care, that I was better off alone, but lately, I’ve been… hoping forsomething.Not love, but something like it. Instead of replying, I hum. And I blame the old man for my somber mood for the rest of the night.

That’s until someone catches my eye.

---