Page 33 of Six
“Don’t you fucking question me, you little prick! You do as I say or you’re out of this house.” He says it like that would be a bad thing.
The aching burn spreads on my cheek, my jaw aches from clenching my teeth. I continue looking at him with hatred in my eyes, unable to stop the memories of all the beatings he’s given me.
He lets out a derisive huff; his putrid breath hits my face while he crowds me again. “But your brother will stay.” He takes a sip from his can of beer and then smirks, knowing very well I’d never leave Sully behind. My heart is trying to push its way out of my chest and my stomach lurches at the thought of Sully alone with him and hisfriends. He’s underage and defenseless.
Plus, Dick wouldn’t stop there. He sells to a couple of cops, one phone call and they’d take me in. The list of illegal things Dick has forced me to do is so long, I’ll never see the light of day again.
But fighting Scorpion? I got all cocky with Rague, even though I know he’s right. Scorpion can reduce me to a pulp. He’s way more experienced than me and bigger. I’m afraid my dirty tricks won’t last long this time. It’s like Dick and Lenny want me to lose.
Dick drops onto the cracking armchair and shifts his lazy ass so that his bulging belly pops out even more.
I wish I could tell him to fuck off, to leave us alone. I hate how easily I let him use me like a puppet. Hate to feel this helpless and weak.
“Maybe you need a few days out there to appreciate what I do for you.”
“And what is that?” I scoff, knowing damn well what my disdainful attitude will provoke but not giving a fuck about it.
He leans forward in the armchair, and I prepare myself, filling up my lungs with air and tensing all over. The instant I feel his fist touching me I release the air and slightly relax my muscles. His punch hits me right in the guts, and because of my already bruised ribs I bend over with the pain, offering him my face on a silver plate. My jaw cracks under the blow he delivers next, and I have a second of hope that he didn’t break any bones before the pain radiates. I stagger back, catching my balance on the sofa.
“Grab your shit and get the fuck out, you limp dick.” I hear him slurping from the can, then the sound of the TV comes from behind me.
I hate him so fucking much that for a second, I see myself straddling his disgusting body and pummeling his face until the light turns off in his malicious little eyes. But I wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth, and without a word, I make my way to the bedroom. While I angrily snatch the few meager things I own and stuff them in my backpack, I can’t stop myself from feeling so damn worthless.
Why am I putting myself through this? I know Dick has all the power. Why do I fight back? To feel a shred of non-existent control while he takes his anger out on me? I need to do what he asks and keep my head down just for a little bit longer. Because listening to the tiny voice inside my head that tells me I have a choice in this unfairly cruel world only makes me end up on the street without a roof over my head.
I turn a fast glance around the cold room. Sully brought all his stuff on the school trip. There’s no proof left that we were ever here. If only I could make it final.
“Don’t come back till it’s time for the fight.” Dick’s voice accompanies me on my way out, and I flip him off over my shoulder just as the door is closing behind me, enjoying his angry cussing. But I know his lazy ass won’t come after me, so I start slowly walking while I pull my phone out of my puffer.
Lori is away for the week on a business trip. I know where the extra key for his apartment is, but his entire building is being fumigated for pests. The idea of roaches crawling on me makes me shudder. The blonde chick fromIndiana Jonestaking a stroll in that bug-infested secret passage pops inside my head, and I firmly eliminate Lori’s place from my options.
Where else could I go? The twenty-four-seven café on Lexington is an option only if the old waitress is there. If I order a coffee, she’ll let me stay for a few hours and even take a nap.
My mind diverts to Rague. He said he’d help me if I let him.Because I want to.His words still make me shiver deliciously. He didn’t mean me crashing at his place, though. He probably lives in that cottage with somebody. I fucking hate that thought, so I push the whole idea away.
A text from Ned appears on the screen. One of the guys is sick and Ned needs a fill-in in an hour. Fuck. My ribs hurt like a bitch, but of course, I reply I’ll be there. Can’t afford to lose this job. I’ll think about finding a place to crash later.
One day after Dick kicked me out, and I feel like shit. I slept at the recycling plant last night. Sneaked inside when the night guard was taking a leak. The plastic chairs I used as a bed turned my neck stiff, and although I was inside, the place was fucking glacial since the central heating is turned down low at night. I barely slept, and I kept trembling, feeling the cold reaching deep inside my bones.
I slipped out early this morning—luckily unnoticed—and pretended like I just arrived for my shift.
Around lunch time, job done, I’m sitting at a shitty diner, feeling even worse than when I woke up. The waitress places a coffee in front of me, waiting with her notepad ready. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, but my stomach recoils at the idea of food, so I tell her I’m fine for now. She huffs and leaves.
The smell of burned, cheap coffee reaches my nose, and I scramble off the chair and run to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet. When the heaves stop, the sour taste in my mouth makes me retch once again. But my stomach is completely empty.
I flush and haul myself up, trying really hard not to think about what the fabric of my jeans has made contact with on the dirty public floor. My feet take me to the sink, and I rinse my mouth with water. I feel horrible. My skin is on fire, but I’m freezing. I think I got whatever virus that guy at the recycling plant has. He probably spread it around while he was incubating it, as Sully would say.
Damn it! I never get sick. I can’t get sick. Not now.
After a few minutes of sulking, I try to think about a solution. I need proper rest and to stay hydrated. The shelter on Sedgwick St. is not going to accept me if I’m ill. None will. I have no health insurance, so hospitals are out. But I need to find a place before I get worse.
One step at a time. First, I need to get some sports drinks and protein bars.
A while later, I’m walking with my head down, a plastic bag with a bottle of Gatorade and a peanut butter bar is dangling from my frozen fingers, while my other arm is wrapped around my aching ribs. My backpack feels too heavy on my shoulders.
I hear music and laughter from a house nearby that makes me just want to scream in anger for the unfairness of it all, and at the same time, beg for shelter. The air is frigid out here.
It started snowing heavily at some point. I can’t feel my icy feet inside my sneakers as they leave shoe prints on the white ground. I feel like all the bones in my body are hurting. I’m trying to slow my racing heart to no avail. I realize I’m panting only when I notice that the little cloud of breath forming near my mouth never disappears.
