Page 95 of Guarded

Her hands begin to fly at me. First to my face and then to my stomach. I drop to my knees and my body spasms. Another jab lands on my mouth, and blood flies from my dry lips. Blackness clouds me as she uses me as her personal punching bag.

I lay there counting the minutes until she’s done.

My tears were a high for Evangeline. She needs me completely broken to get to her place of euphoria. When she finally gets there, she spits on me and nudges me with her foot toward the kennel. Crawling on my stomach, I collapse when I make it inside the small cage.

“Say bye to Charlie. Happy Fucking Birthday.” She says, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Hugging my knees to my chest, I apply pressure to the ache in my abdomen. Blood drips from my nose. The swelling in my face begins.

I rest my head on the kennel floor until my tears stop and my body settles. My top coping mechanism was to flee my mind, letting myself drift to a fictional place where I exist as another person.

Hours pass before Evangeline returns. I cry for Charlie. My oldest friend. The sun goes down as I drift in and out of sleep.

I awaken to the pitch-black room and banging on the front door. My left eye is completely swollen shut. I can’t see anything. I’m left with my other five senses. My hearing clues me into voices sounding in the kitchen.

“Evangeline! It’s time to pay up!” A deep masculine voice yells out.

“¿Dónde estás perra? We’ve come to collect!” A stern feminine voice calls out before kicking down the bedroom door. When she sees me, her eyes widen.

“Santo Dios.” She murmurs.

I hear the male voice arguing with a pleading Evangeline in the background.

“I promise I’ll get you your money. I told Vicky I had to buy Christmas gifts, and....”

The woman in front of me looks around the room—a room without a bed—just the kennel and a bucket for a bathroom. Her eyes roam over the bright red paint, where Evangeline makes me write sentences on the wall as a punishment.

“I am worthless.”

“No one will ever love me.”

“I am the worst son ever.”

She shakes her head before her tear-filled eyes return to me.

“Are you okay, kid?” She touches my swollen eye.

Her hand is cold, and I wince. I shake my head and swallow down the lump forming in the back of my throat.

“I’ll be right back, okay.” Her soft voice becomes loud as she leaves the room.

“So, where’s the gifts then, Evangeline? Where is the Christmas tree? Where is your fucking son?” I hear the woman shout.

There’s more screaming and pleading from Evangeline. This time, when the woman returns, she drags Evangeline in by a fistful of her hair to face me.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Evangeline scared. Her eyes shut close. Refusing to acknowledge me. I could save her. I hate that I want to, but I know I could lie.

Lie again. Say it was an accident. Another fucking accident. But then I’d be stuck here. Alone. Without Charlie. Stuck with the bad thing. With the pain.

“Did you hurt this child?” the woman asks.

Evangeline keeps her eyes closed as tears roll down her cheek. Powerless. She looks so powerless.

“Joaquin, I’m gonna take the boy. Do what needs to be done. And have no mercy on her. Do it for him.” She points at me, and the large man accompanying her nods. He has long hair pulled into a ponytail and a leather vest covered with patches.

The woman with soft features and kind eyes opens the kennel, grabs my hand, and pulls me up. Was this another one of my mind’s broken pieces playing tricks on me? She holds my hand tightly as we walk down the apartment stairs to the front. I look down to see the fresh pink nail polish.

It’s not a long walk, but it feels like a mile to me. A new feeling of being able to breathe washes over me. Tears flood my eyes as we move down every step and out the apartmentcomplex door. The woman ushers me to a nearby bench, where she lets me cry.

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