Page 212 of Phobia
It’s always been just the two of us,alonein the world.
Lena’s been like a mother to me. Maybe not a great one… But who could blame her? No teen wants to be saddled with a bunch of adult responsibilities. Looking after your sullen little brother, working to put food in our bellies and keep a roof over our heads.
I know that’s why she does what she does… Toescape.
Shuffling through the small trailer we call home, I pass a few empty liquor bottles and ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts. The place is trashed. I clean up as much as I can, though I admit sometimes I get distracted. But I have to pull my weight, so it doesn’t all fall on my sister. After all, I’m not a kid anymore.
I’m almost twenty years old. I have a job… Fucking shitty one, but still. It’ssomething.
I work at John John’s Butcher Shop up the road, hacking meat like a savage.
Pays the bills, I guess.
Flinging the front door open, I’m hit with blinding light. I squint and balk at it.
So bright out here… Fuck.
And it’s so goddamnhot, humidity in the air moistening my exposed skin almost instantly. I’ve lived in Louisiana for years, and I still hate it. Atlanta wasn’t perfect, but it was my home.
Theriot has never felt like home. Neither has this damn trailer park, but I stay here, because it’s easiest. And I can’t leave Lena.
Lena…I gulp, trotting down the steps barefoot, onto the dirt path.
I’m sure she’s okay. Hopefully she’s just at work or something.
“Yo…” My voice comes out like a croak, and I clear my throat. “Ned!”
Ned Fielding, the guy who lives in the trailer to the right, peeks up from where he’s sitting, in a chair on hislawn, which is actually just a patch of more dirt.
“Hey there, Asa,” he drawls. “What’s the hurry?”
I jog over to him, squinting from the sun in my eyes. “Did you see Lena?”
He spits chaw into a cup. “She ain’t at work?”
“She only works nights,” I sigh, slapping my hand over my chest as my heart thumps. “And the car is still here.”
Pacing in front of him, my mind is running away.
This is all your fault. You let it happen…
You let it steal you.
And now Lena’s in trouble.
“Maybe she went up the road.” He tilts his chin. “To thehouse.”
I stop moving and stare at him. “Don’t say that…”
He shrugs. But before I can argue, really wind myself up at the thought, movement in my peripheral distracts me.
A beat-up Chevy truck is driving up to the trailer on the left of mine. The one that’s been empty for over a year. Tires crunch over rock, stopping with a cloud of dust. Then the driver’s door opens.
“Who’s that?” I whisper, watching as a kid hops out, immediately rounding the truck to the passenger side.
“Didn’t’cha hear?” Ned says, spitting once more. “Someone bought old Ms. Lander’s. That must be them.”
The kid is busy helping a woman out of the truck. She doesn’t look very old, but she’s using a cane to walk.
