Page 37 of In the Stars

I go over and collect the boxes I dropped and take them outside.

The wind is blowing softly, lifting my short hair slightly. I toss everything in the recycling bin and walk slowly back to my house, shoving my hands in my pockets.

My fingers bump against my keys, and I pull them out, twisting the key ring around on my index finger.

I stop when I take in the large brass key, the one to Suzette’s house. My house now.

Even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I start in the direction of my old home. If memory serves, it’s only about a fifteen-minute walk from the place I’m renting now. The night is cool, and the chilly night air will help keep my head from getting all clouded with what I’m about to do.

The closer I get to my old home, the tighter my chest feels. I shouldn’t go. It’s not a good idea. Not when my head is already fucked up from wondering what to do about Jaxon and me.

I keep walking.

When I get to the house, I stand at the base of the porch, looking at the rundown structure. It was shit when I lived here and went downhill since I’ve been gone. Fifteen years isn’t long enough.

On shaking legs, I walk up the steps of the porch, hearing the familiar creak. My stomach roils as I inch closer to the door. My palms sweat as I reach out to the doorknob, wanting to open it but not wanting to enter at all.

Sweat dots my brow as I stick the key into the lock and twist it, then turn the knob to grant myself access.

I walk inside, the smell of mold and neglect seeping into my nasal passages. The light from the window illuminates the interior, and I have to strain my eyes to see. I know the layout of this house like the back of my hand, even though I’ve been gone for over a decade, so I don’t click on the light. I don’t want to see what this place turned into, since I remember what it looked like when I lived here.

Boxes are strewn about around the living room, and I skirt them, looking around at the filth Suzette lived in.

When I get to the hallway, my eyes lock on my old bedroom door, which is cracked open. My heart sinks, and I’m pulled into the past, memories assailing me.

The thuddingof the mattress against my wall makes my stomach tighten. I wish I could be anywhere but here, forced to listen to my mother have sex for money. I overheard her and her boyfriend, Perry, discussing the easiest way to finance their habits, and it was for her to fuck some of his friends that had enough money and drugs to spare.

I tried to sneak out about fifteen minutes ago, but Perry caught me and told me to stay put, since it was so late. I don’t give a fuck how late it is, I don’t want to hear what she’s doing. But the window to my room is practically welded shut from age and disuse from previous tenants, so the only way out is through the front door.

When the sounds started, I covered my head with my pillow and sang some of the lyrics of a song I wrote loud enough to drown it out. But Perry came into the room and snatched me to my feet, shaking me hard enough for my teeth to rattle. “Shut the fuck up with that shit. They can’t concentrate on fucking your mom.”

My stomach clenched, and tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away as I stared him down. I tried to keep my face blank, since he saw anything like signs of anger as a threat, and he’d beat me for it.

He struck me for the first time two months ago, and since I didn’t tell my mom, he kept doing it, ramping up every attack, but careful not to leave bruises on my face.

His gaze bores into me threateningly, and I nod. He drops me on the floor, and I scurry back onto my bed, covering my ears with my hands and singing softly to myself so only I could hear. It helps moderately but not nearly enough.

When I’m was sure Perry has gone into my mom’s room to watch or participate, I pack some stuff in my backpack so I can go to Jaxon’s house. He’ll sneak me in and let me sleep with him in his soft bed and I’ll wake up without the fear of being slapped around.

But when I step out of the room, Perry is walking down the hallway. My stomach drops when his eyes dip to the bag I have slung over my shoulder.

He storms over to me, pushing me in the chest with both hands. I land hard on my back, but my pack takes the brunt of the fall so I don’t hurt myself.I try to scramble away, but Perry runs at me, and his fist connects with my jaw.

I cry out and drop to the floor, shocked he hit me in theface.

“Didn’t I fucking tell you to stay put? You got a fucking problem listening?” he asks and kicks me in the stomach. I curse and roll over, holding my middle.

“I’ll fucking show you to fucking listen to me,” he growls in a voice I don’t recognize. I hear the jingle of his belt, but I assume he’s going to strike me with it.

He kicks me three more times, in my back and along my side, until I’m a crying, blubbering mess, begging him to stop. When his steps recede, I let out a breath of relief, The worse is over. He’ll go back to my mom and leave me alone now that he’s kicked my ass for disobeying.

My bedroom door clicked shut, and I relax marginally, thinking he was gone.

But I’m wrong.

One of his hands clamps around the back of my neck, and he hauls me to my feet. Perry tosses me onto my bed. I groan a curse when my bruised body hits the exposed springs of my mattress.

Before I can curl myself back into a ball, Perry is on me. He pushes me onto my stomach and presses my face hard into the mattress, cutting off my airway. I fight against him, but I can’t shake him off. My pants are pulled down, exposing me. I try to dislodge him, but my struggling is a fruitless effort.

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