I
The next morning was a Monday, which meant I had to go to school. On any other day this would have been a blessing, but today I just did not feel like getting out of bed. I laid there for a good ten minutes until my backup wakeup alarm went off. If I stayed where I was any longer I risked Craig coming in and having his way with me. So, I got dressed in the same old hoodie and blue jeans. I didn’t bother to put on makeup. What was the point?
It was easier to walk on that day, which relieved me some of my tension. The school bus was just pulling up when I exited the apartment building. Luckily it waited for me. I found myself right in the middle of a hostile paper ball fight, among every passenger. I dodged incoming spitballs and miraculously found an empty seat in the back.
I was real quiet in school that day, almost as if I wasn’t even there. I hid in the back of all my classes, and no teachers bothered to call on me to answer any questions. I got a B - on the math test and an A on my biography of Marco Polo. I didn’t buy a lunch but only rested my head on the cafeteria tables. The peers surrounding me chatted away about last night’s American Idol episode and whom they were going to take to the Winter Dance. I desperately wanted to see Leon, just to talk to him. I wanted him to hold me, but of course, he was in P.E. right about now. God, it sucked that we didn’t share the same schedules. It really did.
The day went by as if I was in slow motion and everybody else was at normal speed. I watched everything -- every little fiber -- closely. I noticed that everything was the same. Everybody was like clockwork. There was never any change, just the same old bullshit each and every day. And I was just going with the flow.
After last period, I waited by the bleachers and watched as Leon finished up football practice. I lit up a cigarette and absorbed as he ran in the locker room to change. When he came out, we kissed briefly and began to walk. It was a nice day over all. The snow was thick and pretty and a spotlight from the sun above escaped from a hole in the mystifying clouds. Leon held my books with one hand and wrapped the other around my shoulder.
“So, we should be leaving soon,” I said.
“That’s good,” he said. “Real good.”
“Plan on telling your folks?”
“I don’t know. I’ll probably just leave them a note or something. It sure is going to break their hearts, though.”
“My Mom isn’t going to give two shits …” I said. I could tell Leon was trying to think of the right thing to reply to that, so I cut him off before he said something foolish. “Good, I hate her guts anyways.” We were about thirty feet away from the apartment building. We kissed each other and parted ways. I told him I would call him as soon as I heard some news about the money.
Two feet of walking and I saw the black Camaro parked outside the apartment building. My eyes opened wide in surprise but I quickly backed it up with a smile. By the time my Dad got out of the car I was already there. “Hi, Daddy,” I said, “what are you doing here?”
“What, can’t visit my daughter?”
“Yeah, but if Mom sees you she’s going to raise all kinds of hell.”
He smiled at me and said, “Let her.” Yeah, easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to live with the scum. However, I do. Well, not for much longer. He then went on to interrogate me about Leon, and I told him enough to satisfy him. I made up some lies about how much of a terrific day I had at school and then he told me that he would be getting the money pretty soon. I couldn’t hide my happiness for this piece of news so I jumped up in joy, which was a bad idea. I struggled the pain away and told him I had to be getting back upstairs, so he got in his Camaro and drove off. I winced and entered the apartment building.
Nobody was home, which meant they were probably out stocking up on either drugs or booze or both. I was glad I was alone. I loved those moments when you could be left to your thoughts, peacefully. It was like heaven for me.
I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and lay down on the sofa, flicking the television on in the process. They never did returned home that night.
II
The next morning there was still no sign of Mom nor Craig. I didn’t bother to wait for them so I took a shower and went to school. The day zipped by and when I got home Mom and Craig were on the living room floor. He was on top of her, thrusting rabidly. Scattered right beside them was a dirty syringe, a lighter, an empty balloon and a half-melted spoon. The stereo was blasting “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I was about to turn away when I noticed that Mom wasn’t awake. She must have passed out from the drugs is all. Right?
“Craig, get off of her! She isn’t conscious, man.” I stepped forward and another detail unraveled around me. There was something else that was spilt onto the carpet. Some kind of liquid. In addition, when I gazed my eyes further I saw that it was coming out of Mom’s mouth. At first, I thought it was foam, and it might have been. It was some sort of white, thick, milky fluid.
I pushed Craig off her and bent down. Mom’s skin was clammy. Her tongue was hanging out and it was discolored. I noticed that her eyes were half open, almost staring at me. I placed my index and middle finger at the grove of Mom’s wrist beneath the thumb, and struggled to find any activity in the radial artery. No pulse. No sign of life.
“Oh shit, this can’t be right. Oh no oh no oh no …”
“I told the bitch twenty-five hundred milligrams was too much, but does she listen? No, she’s a stupid bitch is what she is. Am I the only fucking one here with brains?” Craig stood up and backhanded me in the face. “Don’t ever interrupt me like this again, you got it? Now fuck off. I’m not done here yet.”
“What? But Craig … she’s dead.”
“Stop your fucking lies and go to your room. I’ll take care of you when I’m finished here.” He pulled his pants down again and got on top of my mother. He … he began to … he started pushing himself inside her again.
I tried to push Craig off her but he was ready for me this time. He gripped my breasts tightly and pushed me violently. I flew off my feet and landed on the center of the coffee table, snapping it in two. I struggled to my feet. I was covered in broken glass, some of it sticking in my body. I didn’t bother wiping it off.
I leaped at my step-dad and knocked him off my corpse of a mother. Craig grabbed my shoulders and turned me on my back, thus pushing the glass further into my skin. “Can’t wait your turn, eh? It doesn’t matter to me which one I do it, too. You’re both the same in my eyes, only you’re a lot prettier.”
He literally ripped the pants off my legs and did the same with my panties. No, I would not let this happen again. Never again. I was sick of this. I don’t know why I even let this shit continue on before. What was wrong with me?
I clawed wildly at his face as he entered me, but he was so doped up it didn‘t seem to faze him. Goddamn it! I reached around aimlessly for some kind of weapon. Maybe a blunt object to smash his repulsive little face in. Then my hand found its way to the syringe lying beside my dead mother. I gripped the plunger tightly and swung upwards, screaming out a warrior’s cry. The needle (along with half of the syringe itself) stabbed through Craig’s left cheek. He instantaneously sprung to his feet with the syringe hanging out of his face, shrieking frantically. He started running enthusiastically around the apartment like a chicken with its head chopped off.
I stood up and put my panties back on; my pants were ripped all to hell so they were no use. I watched Craig run around screaming slurred words that I couldn’t understand. Then he went in the kitchen for a little while. I was starting to wonder what he was doing. Hopefully he had lay down and died once and for all.
However, as he came back in the living room fright returned to my body. Craig stood there in his birthday suit, staring at me. The syringe was gone, but blood was spurting out of his cheek as if I had cut an artery, but there weren’t any arteries in the cheek, was there? “Sweet Home Alabama” was over and “Up Around the Bend” by Creedence Clearwater Revival clicked on. Craig’s entire face was covered in blood. It was a very terrifying sight.
The knife in his hand and smile in his expression didn’t help matters either.
“This blade is going to do wonders to your face, darling,” he said, and charged at me. I had only a second to think, so I somersaulted out of the way. Craig collided against the wall and quickly regrouped his thoughts. He turned around and saw that I had already gotten back up to my feet. Before he could perform his next action, I ran on the couch and dived off the arm of it, landing in the middle of the hallway. I got up and ran into my room; only I thought it was my room. I looked around and saw that I was in Mom and Craig’s room. I slammed the door shut and locked the door. The room was dark and the light bulb was dead. Stumbling around I managed to hide in the walkin closet. I tried to calm down and catch my breath, but it was somewhat difficult with Craig pounding on the door. I fumbled for the lighter in my pocket and flicked it on. Exploring the closet, I found clothes, a rifle and a bowling ball. I had no idea that they kept a gun in the apartment. Maybe this was a gift from God?
III
Craig kicked the door down and leaped in the room. I didn’t give him a chance to look around. I barged through the closet with the bowling ball raised over my head. I let my grip go and it went soaring three feet and collided against his skull. He dropped to the carpet like an anchor. He was knocked out. Not dead, but not conscious either.
I picked up the bowling ball again and smashed it in Craig’s face. Then again … and again. And again. The whole time I was yelling nonexistent words.
It reminded me of a pumpkin how his face just collapsed like that.
I dropped the bowling ball and ran in the bathroom to vomit.
IV
I was so relieved that Leon picked up the telephone. “Hello?”
“Leon, you need to get over here as fast as you can. Something’s happened.”
“Kristie? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Just get here, okay? They’re all dead.”
I hung up the phone and sighed. I couldn’t bare the sight of my mother any longer so I covered her up with a blanket. I then did what I always did and cried. The next song on the stereo was “Carry on my Wayward Son” by Kansas.
I wiped the tears away and thought about what life would have been like with a little sister or possible a little brother. I realized then that I always wanted it, despite the possible danger to it. I needed something to take care of, other then Mom. I wanted the baby. I wanted to love it and cherish it. But I guess all that was ruined now.
I called the phone number my dad had given me and it dialed three and a half times before someone answered. “Hello? What?” It wasn’t my dad, that was for sure.
“Hello?” I said.
“What? What do you want? Who is this?”
“Is my dad there?”
“Your dad? The fuck you talking about, lady?”
“Um … is Maddox there?”
“No!”
“Well, where is he?”
“In the shower.”
“Oh well … um … do you know if he got the money?”
“No, there isn’t any goddamn money. It’s all fucked! They’re gonna kill us now. I didn’t mean to shoot her either, it just happened, ya know? Fuck!”
“Uh … can you have him call me when he’s out of the shower?”
“Who? What the fuck are you talking about? Who the hell are you?”
“Tell Maddox to call his daughter when he’s out of the shower.”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that … if we aren’t dead that is …”
He hung up the phone and I was left confused. Who was that? Maybe my uncle? I threw the cordless telephone against the wall and it shattered to pieces. “Shit!” I shouted. No money, which meant we were fucked. What were we going to do? We did not have enough money to live on, barely any gas, too.
Maybe some television would help until Leon arrived. I turned the news on and found out that a Fifth Third Bank just fifteen minutes away from the apartment was held up, and by a homosexual couple, too. They didn’t take the money, though, because apparently a dye pack had exploded on them before they even left the bank. The newscaster said that a bank teller by the name of Ellen Barker was killed by a gunshot to the head. This day was just getting weirder and weirder.
I looked at the broken coffee table. Underneath it, there was an old newspaper that was used for the missing leg to keep the table balanced. For no real reason, I bent down and picked it up. The front headline caught my attention right away; DESPERATION FAMILY WINS MILLIONS IN LOTTERY FOR THE SECOND TIME.
I read the article three times and could not get over the fact that they mentioned where the Desperation family lived. It was as if they were begging for it. All that money … twenty million bucks. Nobody deserved that much. Maybe they wouldn’t mind giving a little to us.
