Page 6 of Absolution

I’ll admit I’ve made a few mistakes in my life.

Who am I kidding?

My entire life has been one fuck up after another with the blame solely falling onto my shoulders. Those horror stories you see on T.V. specials? Yeah, the kind of things that make you sick to your stomach reading about? I’ve lived them. Nightmares, which haunt every waking minute of my life. All because of my unquenchable thirst for bad boys and drugs to numb the pain.

Take my most recent fuck-up for example. California was meant to be my chance to start over, but like usual, I ditched common sense for a hot guy and an endless supply of heroin. When I realized I was in too deep, I ended up in an even worse situation than before. A situation that I still force myself to try and forget every single fucking day.

But it wasn’t always dark. I had some fun between the shit storms, even if they were only temporary reprieves. Every time something good would happen in my life, I would find a way to counteract it. Just like now. I ran away from the first sliver of hope that I’ve ever had in my life. Granted, the feeling of hope laid back in California in the bed of a biker who grunted more than he ever communicated, but with him, I felt safe.

Too safe. I knew that in some way or another that my life would come crashing down like it always does. It’s my fault. I am the person responsible for the scars both mentally and physically marring my body. I am also responsible for the bodies left behind in my wake.

My past may be lined with the ghosts of my mistakes, but unfortunately for me, my ghosts never seemed to stay in the shadows. No, mine liked to wait until the moment I found a piece of happiness, before haunting me again.

Those ghosts are why I’m back in the cow shit corner of Willow Branch, Kentucky. Population fourteen hundred, if you count the livestock roaming around the hills. It doesn’t even have a gas station or a post office, but we sure as shit had two local honky-tonk bars. It’s just another typical old boomtown that was left to rot when the natural gas disappeared. It didn’t help that it was filled with people who refuse to give up the country life to move where the jobs are now.

To most, it was the perfect place to raise a family, until the day my white trash mother brought me into this world. My birth marked a black stain being smudged onto Willow Branch’s perfect reputation. Well, at least for my parents. My momma wasn’t exactly what you call a respectable woman, and having a daughter out of wedlock with the married local pastor, didn’t help cement her into the saint hall of fame. Her actions and of course my birth, broke up a good family, which she blamed me for my entire my life. Call it delusional or insane, but she was convinced that he would still want her. Little did she realize she was a play toy on the side for my religious father, and that she could be wished away with atonement and prayer. It’s almost ironic that I turned out to be just like her. Coming full circle as you could say.

The images of her withered face, on the day I claimed her body, pops into my mind. Gone was the beauty she once was and in its place was the face of a woman who lived a hardened, drug addicted life. Her creamy, smooth skin had transformed into wrinkled leather. Her hair was all but gone, with patches of dark strands left sparingly over her head. Even her teeth were yellowed and broken into jagged pieces as if she chewed on glass every single day. The last ten years didn’t do any kind favors for my mother. That was the last time I saw her, before I relinquished her body to a pauper’s funeral and walked away from her. This was never about coming back for her anyway. My mission and goal were singular in nature, and sending her off in a grand fashion was never my intention from the moment they told me she died. After everything that she had done to me as a child, I couldn’t stand by her side at the funeral as a mournful daughter. The tears I had for her had long dried up, and wasting another minute in her presence wasn’t something I had in mind to do any longer than necessary. I wanted it to be done and over. And that’s what I did. Never wanting to look upon her face again.

A bell dings, snapping me back to reality and the job that I was supposed to be doing.

“Table five’s order is up,” the cook yells from behind the counter. “Get moving, girl. I don’t pay you to just stand around and be pretty,” he snaps at me when I don’t move fast enough for his liking. “Food’s getting cold.”

“I’m coming, asshole,” I mutter under my breath.

“You say something?” he hollers back over the sound of clanking pans and dishes.

I plaster a fake smile on my face, and shake my head no. I never thought I would say this, but this place is a downgrade from Red’s back in Upland. Even as handsy as Red could be, Big Joe the cook, smelled ten times worse and took every opportunity he could to corner me in the diner. He may consider himself a ladies man, but I never wanted to catch myself downwind from him.

I grab the two hot plates of sandwiches and fries, while still holding on to that fake smile. I turn on my heel and nearly run right into Susie, the other waitress working the lunch shift. This place is about as small town as you can get, and a day doesn’t go by where I don’t collide into someone. The plates wobble in my hands, but thankfully don’t come crashing to the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” Susie stutters. “I didn’t realize that you hadn’t seen me behind you.”

“It’s okay,” I coolly utter back to her, sidestepping around her and walking towards the table of customers waiting on their food.

With only five tables and a bar top, we rarely see anyone other than the same locals day in and day out. I hated every minute I had to spend in this place, but small towns don’t exactly have a booming job market. The choices and the pay were very limited. Between my day shift here and bartending at Wild Willie’s at night, I was making enough to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. The roof may be leaky and the food isn’t exactly gourmet, but I was still making it the best I could.

The two older men clap at my booth as I slide their plates onto their table like it’s some major accomplishment. I force myself to not roll my eyes in lieu of losing the tip money I so desperately need. Joe’s Diner isn’t exactly a five-star restaurant and neither is the pay, and I needed every penny I could earn.

“Close call there, darling,” the man on the left teases. “You know,” he says, while his eyes roam my body, “I could use a girl like you down at the construction office. What do you think, Jerry?”

His friend mimics his lingering look over my body and nods at his question.

“Sure do, Billy. I bet this filly here would be great at being a secretary.”

The man I now know as Billy cocks a smile as his hand creeps across the table and straight for my ass. I step away from the table just before he touches me, and smack his hand away.

“Oh, she’s feisty,” Billy, laughs. “I like my it when my secretaries play hard to get.” He reaches towards me again, and I slap his hand away a second time. He recoils from the hit, but only laughs while looking back to his friend.

“Come on, darling. We’re just having a little fun with you,” Jerry, the other man chimes in. “Amuse a couple of old guys, and give us a little show, will ya?”

“A show, huh?” I coo back, while plotting my revenge. “What kind of show are you wanting, handsome?”

Fuck the tip money. No one has the right to touch me without my permission, and I, for damn sure, will not just walk away from these two dick heads. They need to be taught a lesson.

Both men smirk, but it’s Billy who makes a move. He grabs a hold of me and pulls me into the red vinyl booth next to him. My body tries to recoil, but I force myself to endure his touch knowing what I am about to do to him. His arm slides around my shoulders, and his hand grazes the top of my breast over my uniform top. I cringe, but keep the charade going because Billy is too fixated on my tits and doesn’t notice my fingers sliding towards the switchblade I have strapped underneath my skirt.

“You’re far too pretty of a girl to be waiting tables, when you could be working for a guy like me who’d appreciate your beauty more. How about you follow me out to my truck, and we’ll have ourselves a little job interview.”

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