Page 28 of Ordinary Girl

“Whether I like it or not, huh?”

I hand her the joint and she takes another deep drag.

“Shit happens, sweetheart.”

Her eyes are clear now. They’re not dead or clouded by all the crap we’ve been giving her. And the more I look into them, the more I realize Skip’s right. She’s fucking beautiful.

“An eye for an eye. Is that how it works?”

I let the corner of my mouth twist up into a smirk. “You already know the answer to that one, kiddo.”

She hands me back the joint and cocks her head slightly. “How old are you?”

“Older than you. That answer your question?”

She stays silent, her eyes searching my face, I don’t know what she’s looking for. And, yeah, Iamolder than her, but that means nothing. If I wanted her, I could have her, I just don’t think I do. Want her. And I don’t know why ’cause she is a walking wet dream. Maybe it’s the grief. Drugged-up and sad never was my thing.

“I’m tired,” she says, but she leaves it a couple of seconds before she once more breaks the stare. “It’s been a long day.”

She gets up, and I watch as she makes her way back into the clubhouse.

“Ana?”

She stops, turns back around, and when she looks at me this time I can’t fail but notice how young she really is. How tired she seems. How sad she still is.

“You need anything, you come tome, okay?”

She smiles slightly, gives me the smallest nod and then turns and goes back inside.

Back to a world that isn’t hers.

Wasn’t hers.

It is now…

Thirteen

Ana

I’m confused. More than anything I’m scared, but these men… Joel. I know his name now, and he didn’t tell me. I didn’t ask. I just overheard others, talking about their vice president. A man who made me feel strangely comfortable, even when he was talking about killing those who killed my mama.

Mama.

Pregnant with Skip’s baby.

If she’d lived we’d have always had a bond with this club. These people. Because she would’ve kept it, the baby. I know my mama, and despite all the crap she’d been going through she would have wanted that baby. Would she have continued to want Skip? Would he have let her go if she hadn’t?

Thinking of Mama brings a fresh wave of grief to the surface and I sink to the floor, draw my knees to my chest. I look around the room that’s been home since that horrific night… No. I can’t call it home, it isn’t that. It’s a prison. I may have thought differently, when I was pumped full of tranquilizers and sleeping pills, and I’d needed that stuff, for a time. Without it I don’t think I could – would – have coped. But I’m done with all that now, I need to face up to what’s happened. I need to contact Lars and Lea, get back to some kind of normality. Skip told me I can’t do that, but I don’t believe him. I believe that he wants to protect me, for some reason, but if leaving here means he can’t do that anymore, then fine. I’ll be okay. I don’t think anything he told me is as bad as he makes it out to be. We’re not living in a movie, this isn’t some gritty TV drama, this is real-life. This is just something I have to deal with. I need to move on.

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand I take a deep breath, suck up the tears and pull myself to my feet. I take another look around this drab, gray room… I’ve had enough now. I’m getting out of here.

I don’t have any possessions, not anymore, and that makes it easier. Everything I have now is in a holdall that’s been sitting on the chair by the door for a couple of days – someone brought some more clothes for me and left it there: a few T-shirts, another pair of battered sneakers, jeans that are a touch too big for me, that’s all I have now. And as soon as I’m home I’m going to burn that shit and buy new stuff. Put this all behind me. Try to make a new start. I’ll find a way to keep the house, find a way to pay for it. There’s always a way, if you try hard enough.

Zipping up the bag I throw it onto the floor and head into the bathroom. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and for the first time in days I look at my reflection. I don’t look like the same person I was before. I don’tfeellike that person. I feel angry and bitter. Sad. With good reason. I watched my mama die in front of me, in the most brutal of ways. I was attacked, almost raped, by men who showed no mercy. Men who, in my eyes, epitomized evil. I feel lonely, here. That’s why I need to leave. Why I need to go back to people I know. People I want to be around: my friends. I can’t stay here, I won’t, stay here. I might have no family anymore, Mama was all I had, but Lars and Lea, they were as good as family. They’ll take me in, I know they will. I’m just sad I couldn’t talk to them at the funeral, although, I don’t actually remember seeing them, but people told me they were there. Somewhere. I don’t remember all that much, before the effects of whatever drugs these people have been giving me started wearing off. But my head’s clear now. Everything’s clear, now.

It’s almost dark outside, and the crowd that was gathered here before, for the funeral and the wake that followed, if that’swhat you could call it, they’re still hanging around, which is good. If there’s a crowd, and it’s dark, I have a better chance of making my escape. It really does feel like a prison cell now, this room. This place. I need to get out.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I grab my jacket, pull the beanie hat I’ve been given down over my head, and I pick up the bag. Open the door…

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