Page 146 of Hell Hath No Fury
Just as I reached the sleeping area, eyeing Monica near my cot in the back, I felt my shin strike something, and it sent me flying toward the floor. At the very last moment, I was able to get my hands up to cushion the fall, but it hurt, nonetheless. A sharp, stabbing pain shot from my palms up the length of both arms.
“Ow… What the fuck!” I turned onto my ass and dusted my hands off as I looked back to find the reason for my fall. What I found was Juliana, seated on her own cot, a leg out, wearing a devilish grin.
I was about to get up and pummel that grin off her face when I realized Kammie wasn’t beside her, on her cot where she’d just been. As I was considering where she had gone, I felt heavy fists rain down on my face. I instinctively threw my hands up in defense, but the fists were too large, their force too strong. I caught several punches to the face, my chin, forehead, and ear as I realized it was Kammie doing the beating. She had never looked so satisfied as she did straddling me with her thick thighs while dominating me completely.
I swung wild hammer fists in her direction, anything to stop her fists from making contact with my body. I caught her a fewtimes. I didn’t see but I felt her stiff jaw against my fist, her nose. She let out a yelp, and hot blood trickled on my knuckles. I kept swinging, both fists coming down like Whac-A-Mole, pounding Kammie enough to back her off a little. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Juliana lurching toward me, but Monica swooped in, clambering on her like a spider monkey and knocking her to the ground. While my attention was momentarily diverted, Kammie took the opportunity to catch me with a good shot across the chin. It threw me back a little, dazing me. I felt a surge of anger, rage, and frustration boil up in me. The years of abuse at Kammie’s hands congealed into one moment of absolute insanity. I charged forward, my hands up, my eyes wild, and a growl escaping my gritted teeth. For the briefest of moments, I thought I saw something I’d never seen in Kammie’s eyes before—fear—as I tackled her to the ground and started wailing her with the palms of my hands like Bas Rutten fromThe King of Queens. Two things had become essential parts of my life by that point, things that got me by on the worst days and made the good days better. Two things I had missed dearly since all this shit started happening. Sitcoms and Wikipedia.The King of Queenswas one of many sitcoms that I had seen hundreds of times, having seen every episode. Legendary MMA fighter Bas Rutten made several cameo appearances in a few episodes, and being a curious little bug that I am, I had to find out what this chisel jawed, Eastern European with the build of a pit bull was all about. Wikipedia led to YouTube, and YouTube led to an understanding that palm strikes create much more force than fists.
Thanks, Bas!
I threw a few more for good measure, catching her square on the jaw, effectively halting Kammie’s offense.
“What the heck are you two doing?” I knew that exasperated voice belonged to McCormick, and I knew I’d be in trouble, butthe joy of beating the ever-loving shit out of Kammie was too delicious for me to stop.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” That voice belonged to Mr. Malcolm. That one had worried me. He had always shown restraint, patience, but in that moment, his was nothing short of furious. I stopped punching just as I felt two big hands lift me up with ease, pulling me away from Kammie. I looked over my shoulder to see it was Malcolm as he pulled me away from her, putting himself between us. The look of disappointment in his eyes, of exasperation, made me feel terrible. His brows couldn’t scrunch together anymore if he tried. “We are in the middle of a war, ladies. A fucking civil war.” I was struck by his cursing. I hadn’t ever heard him curse before, and it came off like an explosion from his lips. “And don’t doubt for a second that that’s what’s going on out there while you two are in here fighting like goddamn children.” The ‘goddamn’ hit even harder than his cursing. Malcolm was a religious man. Always talked of God and higher powers and doing unto others and stuff like that. He never took the Lord’s name in vain.
Malcolm took a steadying breath, Seeming hesitant. The vein in his head pulsated. “I won’t stand for this shit any longer. No more fighting,” he pointed to us both. “No more bickering.” He trailed his finger toward the other kids in the room, all of them engrossed in what was happening with us.
I caught McCormick then by the door, her hair a mess, her hands to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. She was an empty shell of who she was five days before.
“No more complaining,” Mr. Malcolm continued. “No more asking for more food. No more asking for video games or internet or movies. No more nothing, you hear me? I’m fed the fuck up with this shit.” His eyes went wide, his hand trembling. “Fed. Up!”
He then stormed off toward the coach’s office.
McCormick made her way over to us, disappointment emanating from her eyes too. I didn’t know for whom, though … us or him.
“Come to the bathrooms, ladies. Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, motioning us along, and then turned her head and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her soiled, wrinkly blouse.
* * *
“Psss… Ashe, wake up,” a voice whispered just inches from my ear.
My eyes shot open, and I jolted up from my cot.
Mr. Malcolm put a hand to my shoulder to settle me and held a finger to his lips.
“Shh, you don’t wanna wake anybody.”
I rubbed out my eyes, and as my vision cleared, I noticed Mr. Malcolm had his shoes on and a small bag by his feet.
“Are you going somewhere?”
He hesitated before letting out a deep sigh. “Ashe, there are things happening in this world right now, bad things, and I fear worse things are coming. I have to be with my family right now. If things get back to normal, I’ll be back, but my wife has been taking care of the kids for five days now. It’s not fair to her.”
I tried hiding my annoyance. It didn’t work. I could tell by the way he tilted his head down and lifted his brows, that fatherly look. “So why are you waking me up? Why leave in the middle of the night?”
“Because this is when I need to leave, and I’m talking to you right now because you’re the oldest one here. The most mature. The little ones, they look up to you. Take care of them, all right?”
“Isn’t that your job?”
“My job right now is to get back to my family. That’s my only job. This is your home Ashe. This,” he scanned the room full of sleeping children. “This is your family. Whether you like it or not. You need to look after them.”
“I can barely look after myself, Mr. Malcolm.”
He shrugged, cracking a smile. “Well, that all changes now, all right? I’m serious. These kids, they need you.”
“They need you…”
“Listen, if this stuff continues on for a while, you’re going to want that vegetable garden in tip-top shape, all right? Everything you need will be in the garden shed. Make sure you keep it watered, nurture it, care for it, fertilize it, and the land will return that effort investment.”
