Page 4 of Scarred in Silence
“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out,” his voice carries from further away.
I take in a shaky breath as the cool tile calms me down. I’m a piece of shit. The only way out is death, and I can’t even do that right.
Quickly, I stand on my legs as they threaten to give out, making my way into the bedroom. I find a pair of black spandex shorts on the floor next to the bed, sliding the thin material up to cover myself from anyone who may still be lurking.
The floor creaks beneath every step that I take. My feet are bare against the calm wood as I take my walk of shame.
The house is empty. It’s nothing like the trailer I was in yesterday. This house has proper furniture and is clean, despite the smell of cigarette smoke. I get to the front door and slip out into the dry heat.
I have no idea what time it is or what day it is. Every day I have been here has felt like an eternity.
After Evelyn’s wedding, I immediately left. I needed to be free. My phone was off as soon as I sent her that text, and I haven’t turned it back on since. They all act like they care about me, but they don’t. Everyone gives up on me, eventually.
I walk down the dirt road towards the small town. I ended up going as far as I could, which is how I ended up here in New Mexico. There aren’t a lot of rules, but there are tons of drugs. That’s what I need right now.
I need to forget.
Amara’s death hasn’t settled for me. She was the only one who eventually understood me. Even though we were different, she would stand up for me when no one else would. Since she died, all my father did was tell Lucien about my drug addiction.
Evelyn is so wrapped up in her new life with Dante that she will never understand. She has someone who wants her for who she is. I don’t have anyone like that. Everyone wants to change me.
My mother hasn’t talked to me since I turned eighteen. My father was the one who would help pay for the things I needed and let me stay in the house. The only reason he does that is to maintain his public image. The public image that I’m on a mission to fucking destroy.
I arrive at the club where I’ve been working. “Santa Muerta” flashes on the trashy neon light sign outside. The only strip club in this miserable town, but I knew what I had to do—I know what I have to do.
When I got here, I knew I had to have a cash-only job. I knew my father would come looking for me, as he always does. Fucking bastard. I chose the strip club because it was the one place I could find somewhere to sleep and something to numb my feelings.
Every day I work, I pick a customer to go home with—usually one who pays me well. In addition, I sleep with them, in exchange for a place to crash and, of course, my sweet medicine—the perfect trifecta.
Well… It was the perfect trifecta up until last night. I went home with one regular who gets a clean supply. I knew it was my way out if I took enough, but it didn’t work. Someone had to play superhero.
I don’t want to kill myself with a gun, a knife, or anything physical. I want to die in peace. I want to die in the same way I’ve been dying my whole life—in silence.
I throw open the doors to the club and walk towards the dancers’ changing room. The smell of sweat and cigars stains the lifeless room. Hazy clouds circle around, mocking me. The club is pretty empty aside from a couple of guys lingering at the bar.
The girls here have been pretty welcoming of me. I think they all have their own fucked up story, but none of us talk about it.
I sit down on the bench and stare at the clock that ticks loudly on the wall, as if it’s a bomb. 4:45 p.m. Fuck.
I have a solid five hours before the club actually gets some business. I go to my locker, turning the dial until it opens. The locker contains some clothes, my burner phone, and all of mymoney. I left my real phone back at my parents’ house. Didn’t want them to track my whereabouts. I never bring my belongings with me when I leave with the customers, either. It’s too risky.
Once I count my money, I lie down on the bench, ready to pass the fuck out. I need to shake off this grogginess. I close my eyes and drift off, letting the darkness take me to a simpler place.
* * *
“Wake up, Anna!”
I hear Eve yelling at me as she slams her bag down on the bench. Shit. I peer up at her from my restless sleep. I sometimes forget that I go by a new name here. It’s been challenging to adjust to.
“Sorry… I just… didn’t sleep well,” my words come out with a long yawn.
“No, shit. You look like death.”
She looks down at me with her weight on one foot, arms crossed in front of her chest. She wears hot pink lingerie and has her hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
“It’s not that bad,” I roll my eyes at her as I stand up, walking up to the mirror.
I do look terrible. She wasn’t lying.
