Page 32 of Fight for Me

“Motherfucker,” I flick the butt and brush off the ash from my fingers.

I hear a squeak of a mattress, and look around to find the source of the sound, narrowing my eyes at the half-naked man coming toward me.

“Wow, you’re a wild one, little Jenny.” Ricky’s friend Churro laughs before walking out. I cringe and shiver at the realization of what he’s implicating before standing up on unsteady legs.

Then I notice Ricky's body, still sleeping soundly, naked on the bed. Our clothes and empty bottles are thrown around him, like a hurricane of depravity swiped through the whole room.

I walk up to him and tug on his arm impatiently, my whole body shaking as it starts sobering up.

“Ricky, wake up! I need something. Where’s the stuff?” I question frantically and look around, hoping to spot some leftover zip lock bag.

“Ricky, wake, the fuck, up!”

“Wake up!”

I wake with a start, my alarm blaring in the still-dark room. I don’t think I will ever get used to waking up at five. Whoever came up with the idea of starting their day before six should be burning in hell for all eternity.

“Shut the fuck up,” I grumble at the annoying device before slapping it with my hand, probably harder than necessary, but I went to bed late last night and ended up tossing and turning for two hours before I was able to fall asleep.

“What the fuck?” I grouse when I sit on the edge of the bed and my bare feet touch the icy cold floor.

Please don’t tell me the heater broke again because right now, I don’t think we can even afford groceries for this week. I move through the room and snatch a sweater I discarded at the foot of the bed yesterday to put it on my shivering body before I exit my bedroom.

The smell of coffee mixed with cigarette smoke welcomes me as I enter the kitchen, where Rita is already sitting at the table and scrolling on her phone, looking fully awake. If she feels the cold, she doesn’t show it.

“It’s cold as a witch’s tit in here. The heating broke or something?” I ask Rita and pour myself a cup of strong coffee. I sigh in contentment after taking the first sip as I wait for her to finally acknowledge me.

“How the fuck should I know? Move your useless ass for once and go check it,” she mumbles without looking up.

I give her the stink eye but don’t comment. Rita may be a bitch, but she still allowed me to live here and found me a job. So even though we don’t exactly see eye to eye, I still am grateful for her. Or at least try to be because the old hag is making it really difficult sometimes.

Taking my cup with me, I go to the basement to check on the heater and release a string of curses when I see the small screen informing me that there is no gas supply available.

“Fucking bitch,” I curse in a low voice.

I run back into the kitchen and slap both hands on the table in front of the older woman. “What did you do with the money I gave you to pay the gas bill?”

Rita looks up at me, one of her eyebrows making its way up, wrinkling her face even more than it already is. Maybe she was beautiful once upon a time. But age gracefully, she did not.

“I gave it to Ricky. He called that he needed help, so I sent him some,” Rita declares and ignores the angry hiss I give out at the news.

“Well, congratulations, Rita. Because now it’s fucking freezing in here!” I thunder and slam my hand on the table again, making it shake.

“Really? I don’t feel anything. Aren’t you a bit dramatic?” She stares back at me with an unimpressed face before lighting up another cigarette.

“Oh, I guess you’re right, I’m sorry. I actually can’t feel anything,” I start in a fake melodic voice and then snap at her. “Because my toes went fucking numb from the cold floors!”

Rita tsks and shakes her head in irritation, blowing smoke through her mouth. “I don’t know what my son ever saw in you. You’re an ungrateful brat if I ever saw one. Now stop whining, and maybe put on some clothes instead of running around half-naked and complaining about the cold. And get a fucking move on, you’re gonna be late.”

“Whatever,” I grumble and turn away before throwing off my shoulder. “And what did I tell you about smoking in the house?”

“Last time I checked it was still my house, so I will smoke wherever the fuck I want,” she clips back.

I huff in anger and rush to change into my waitress uniform, cursing Rita silently under my breath the whole time.

Then I move to the small room adjoining my bedroom and tiptoe toward the small crib, where I find my sweet baby boy still sleeping. I take an extra blanket and cover him, hoping he won’t notice the temperature drop around him.

As usual, a soft smile overtakes my face as I look at the only reason I’m still here among the living. Even though my baby came as a complete surprise to me, and I was definitely too young to become a mother, undoubtedly he gave me a sense of purpose. He became the only family I will ever need.

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