Page 8 of Six
Today, I have a double shift. After four consecutive hours, I’m sweating like a pig. I chug a bottle of water and wince when I take a whiff of myself. I bet Hulk would reject me even harder if he could see and smell me now. I, on the other hand, would sluttily welcome him all dirty. There’s something about being fucked thoroughly by a big, sweaty guy…
A flash of his wide back marred with long thin scars appears in front of my eyes. They looked like whip lashes, and instead of horrifying me, they’ve made me feel closer to him in a way. Don’t know his story, but that looks like physical abuse to me. My hand lifts to my chest, to the raised, discolored skin on my pecs.
“Break’s finished!” Ned’s voice suddenly booms from behind me. I wave at him and stuff the empty bottle back into my backpack.
Fucking hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about the guy. This bit of curiosity is turning into a small crush. My next fight is in a week. The few days I have before seeing him again will surely fizzle out the odd interest. Nothing to worry about.
When I finally reach Dick’s house at the end of the day, I’m exhausted. The sky has turned onyx black, and the shadows from the few street lamps are playing a creepy hide-and-seek game. The temperature has dropped from nose-stalactite frosty to dick-falling-off icy, thanks to the frigid wind blowing so roughly, I can feel it sneaking under my puffer jacket. I stop twenty feet from home—aka my hell on Earth. The small front lawn is littered with trash—mostly liquor bottles and beer cans. Darkness and snow hardly conceal the poor condition of the shack Dick calls his house. Cracked, falling paint, sinking, uneven steps, leaking roof, and drafts everywhere. The place needs improvements beyond cosmetic fixes and minor updates.
I hear the laughs coming through the open window facing the musty, smoky living room. Being careful not to be spotted, I see Dick scratching his old balls on the dirty armchair, his ever-present cigarette between his thin lips. On top of the plastic coffee table there’re a few bottles of cheap whiskey, some pills, and lines of cocaine. A couple of shady guys are chatting on the sofa while a woman is lying on the floor, eyes closed, mouth open, drooling. Her cheap makeup is smeared all over her face. She’s shirtless and probably high as a kite—that’s how Dick likes them.
I should be horrified by the sight, but it has become so common over the years that I feel nothing, numb and anesthetized. The only thing I’m sensing is the urge to take Sully and leave and never come back.
Dick is a low-rank mule. He sells drugs and pimps girls. I’ve seen so many like this one passing through our house and even tried to help a couple, but they are always too deep into drugs or too scared. They only ever got me into trouble—my hand reflexively lifts to lay over my chest again. The pain is gone from my body, but it’s forever living in my head.
The lowlife scumbag is showing his yellow teeth while nudging the girl on the floor with a foot. She opens her dazed eyes and like on autopilot, crawls to him. When I see her fumbling with his pants, I turn away and round the house.
The room I share with my little brother is just around the corner. He left the window slightly open for me. Every time Dick has guests, Sully places a chair under the door handle to stop any unwanted visitor from getting inside. He’s young and looks like a fucking angel. His soft appearance and sweet attitude attract too much attention. He wears big hoodies and baggy pants to attempt to hide himself. But still, some of those despicable fuckers leer at him.
Dick hasn’t let them have their way with him because Sully is surprisingly good at pickpocketing—his innocent looks make him inculpable and trustworthy. And also because the scumbag knows I’d do anything to protect my brother. He’s got me in the palm of his hand. Hence the illegal fighting and other stuff he’s forced me to do that don’t just skirt the boundaries of ethical conduct but step all over them.
But soon, I’ll get us out of here. Far away. I’m saving almost half of the money I get from the recycle plant job, since Dick doesn’t know about my extra shifts. If I can make a name for myself and get a final big win from the fights, instead of giving it to the scumbag, I’ll take it and disappear.So long, motherfucker!
I climb the low windowsill and get inside the room as silently as possible. I quickly push down the glass, even though the lack of a heater makes the room cold as balls. A bucket is in the corner, half full of water dripping from a wet spot in the ceiling. Sully is asleep a few feet away on the old bare, stained mattress on the floor. I take off my backpack with the intention of pulling out my phone charger, but I make the mistake of dropping it down into the ancient chair. The old metal chassis squeaks and continues to pop and groan. Sully whimpers in his sleep. I wait, but when after a few seconds nothing happens, I use my phone flashlight to cast a glow over the mattress.
His cheek is smooshed against his bicep, full lips parted as he softly snores. Only then do I see Pink’s head peeking out from under the flimsy blanket. The cat’s eyes glow in the light, giving her white fur an almost ghostly air. She has a scar across her head and one ear is half-gone. Sully found her on the street a couple of years back and took her in. He let me name her after my favorite pop singer because she reminds me of Pink with her ballsy attitude and distinctive raspymeow. As if on cue, she lets out a long, gruff, drawn-out meow, making my brother jerk awake, the knife I gave him ready in his hand.
“It’s me,” I quickly assure him. He releases a loud, relieved sigh and drops his head and arm back on the mattress, making Pink sniff with outrage at being jolted. The knife’s blade is too close to his belly for comfort, so I grab it and place it on the floor a couple of feet away from his head. Close enough to grab, but far enough not to accidentally cut himself.
“What time is it?” His voice is hoarse with sleep.
“Late. Go back to sleep,” I tell him as I consider taking off my puffer jacket but change my mind.
I tug on my hoodie, wishing I could take a shower, but I don’t trust letting myself be vulnerable in the bathroom with those people inside the house—I had a few close calls in the past. I’ll do it in the morning. It’s not the first time, but I still cringe at the thought of going to sleep all dirty.
I plug in my phone and set the alarm for tomorrow and then start pulling off my shoes. Sully pats the blanket till he finds the earphone he dropped when he woke up. We always sleep listening to music, it covers the loud laughter and disgusting noises coming from the living room.
Placing my bottle of water near the mattress, I lie down on the small space Sully left for me. He shifts half of the thin blanket on top of me, which reminds me that I need to buy a new one. We exchange some warmth by sleeping so close to each other, but a heavier blanket is essential in this cold.
We are on our sides facing each other, sandwiching Pink between us.
“How was work?” Sully asks softly.
“Long.”
“I can definitely smell the hours on you,” he says teasingly.
“Sorry.”
“For not wanting one of those creeps to jump you in the shower? Or for working like a mule to give me a better future?” He’s using his scowling tone.
I bump his shoulder with mine, which is kind of awkward to do in this position. But I manage, slightly crushing Pink in the process. She once again sniffs.
“Have you got everything for the trip?”
“Yeah. I’ll share a room with Brad, and he’ll lend me the rest, no worries.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Sully’s going on a school trip tomorrow. I haven’t seen him this excited since he was accepted into this school a year ago. And I’m actually relieved he’ll be away and safe for almost three weeks.
My vision is now used to the dark room, and I can see his eyes are closed.
