Vada cautiously steps up the stairs, her bright green eyes staring at me with unease, her long blonde hair knotted. My fingers curl, wanting to run my fingers through it to help the tangles. Motherly instincts kicking in.
“Um, they said there’s a hammer in there?” She points behind me. They’re not allowed inside, at least that’s what I was told.
“I think I know where it is, but I won’t be able to reach it.” I raise the chain wrapped around my ankle, conveying my reach is limited.
She looks over her shoulder confused, she knows she can’t come in the house. She looks so thirsty in this heat though, poor thing. Candy and Stacks are still asleep they won’t know she came inside and I gave her some water. Fuck them if they do.
Using my hands to push myself up off the dusty floor, I stand and hold my hand out to her.
“Come,” I offer.
She rubs her face nervously, her green eyes turning a shade that matches leaves in the fall.
I wave my fingers, palm up, encouraging her to trust me. Taking another step, she very slowly clasps her hand with mine. She’s so bony, it breaks my heart. Don’t they feed her? Where are her parents?
Stepping farther inside the house, a breeze from the box fan stationed in the window in the back of the house swishes my dress around my thighs.
“Are you thirsty, Vada?”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide with desperation. Her cheeks smudged with dirt, the cracks of her mouth dry. I want to take her upstairs and bathe her, lather her in lotion and whisper in her ear I’ll save her. Shaking my head, the nurturing instinct really kicking in from being pregnant takes me by surprise. I’m feeling the need to preen and take care of something fierce.
Inside the kitchen, there is a pitcher of water Stacks leaves out for me, it’s not cold as it’s been sitting overnight but I don’t think Vada won’t care.
I pour some into my plastic glass and hand it to her.
She takes it with both hands, Jesus, she’s so cute. Bringing it to her mouth, she gulps it quickly, the noise something you’d only hear from a cartoon.
She sips every drop and hands the cup back. One hand on the counter, I jut my head toward the back door where a red toolbox sits.
“The hammer is in there,” I tell her. I’ve seen Stacks use it a few times, I’ve tried to reach it many times.
Using the back of her hand, she wipes her mouth and skips to retrieve the hammer.
A loud yawn that can only be from Stacks can be heard from down the hall, he’s awake. The little girl goes stiff, and I step away from the counter, ready to interfere if I need to. I’ve never seen what happens if one of them comes inside the house, but I encouraged her to come in, so if anyone should be in trouble it should be me.
No shirt, only boxers, his hair a mess, he looks to the little girl then to me.
He strides to the other side of the kitchen, heading to the coffee. I miss coffee.
The little girl runs out of the house with the hammer before I can tell her not to tell anyone I was sitting on the porch.
I turn toward Stacks, curious why they’re not allowed in the house, and why she’s so scared of him. I mean, why have them here and call them their children if they treat them like rats.
“If Candy sees her in here, she’ll be pissed,” Stacks informs. I roll my eyes. Candy is a bitch.
“She needed the hammer and I can’t get it myself,” I snap back, my voice heavy with anger. “Why can’t she come in here anyway, and why is she so thirsty?”
He turns, resting his backside on the counter casually sipping from his coffee cup.
“We offer them somewhere to stay; sanctuary. We can’t feed and let them all in the house because they’ll take advantage and tear the place up. They’re trash and that’s how they live,” he says matter of fact.
It maddens me.
“She’s just a little girl!” I raise my voice, he may be big and intimidating but he’s never raised a hand to me, as far as I can tell he won’t, seeing I’m with child. He doesn’t respond to my outburst as I expected and walks past, his height shadowing over me while he heads out of the kitchen. That’s when I realize he didn’t leave me any food on the counter for breakfast this morning.
“I need something to eat,” I remind him.
“Should have thought about that before you opened your fucking mouth,” he replies. I hang my head, it’s a long time before dinner and I only get what they don’t eat on their plates. I’m afraid if I saw a doctor they’d tell me I’m underweight for being pregnant. Holding my stomach, I pray the baby is getting everything it needs.
Stacks’ repercussions aren’t physical, but he will be retaliation for my behavior.
“Stay in your lane little girl,” he threatens, his massive back disappearing when he turns the corner to the other room.
Stepping out of the kitchen, I watch the little girl head into one of the garages. I instinctively cup my stomach. “I’ll never let them keep you,” I whisper to my baby.
Heading up the steps, my eyes begin to sting thinking about Saint. I miss him so much. Sometimes it’s easier to push the thought of him out of my head just so I can get through the day a little easier. Walking to the stairs, the chain suddenly catches my foot and I trip. Panic tingles through my entire body pushing out an unholy scream as I fall. My arms flail trying to grab on to something to keep from landing on my stomach, my right leg sliding out from under me, I quickly bend my left knee and fall to the floor.
I still, looking myself over for injury. I have one hand on the rail of the stairs and my left knee on the dusty floor.
Heart pounding, I can’t stop the tears from falling. Slowly, I position myself onto my ass, my whole body aching from tripping. But I’m okay, my knee hurts, but the baby is fine.
That was close, too close.
“Jesus Christ, is the baby okay?” Candy asks, suddenly standing in front of me with just a long white shirt on. Her obsession with me and my growing belly terrifying me. I woke up a few times with her sleeping behind me, her arm wrapped around me, palm resting on my belly. She’s starting to really freak me out. I don’t think she’s going to wait until I’m nine months or in labor before taking the baby.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, my whole body trembling from what could have happened.
“We need to put that on her wrist,” Stacks informs, standing in the doorway to the living room. He’s so calm and unaffected compared to Candy and me.
“You think so?” Candy asks, crossing her arms. Their insanity is infuriating. They’re concerned if I fall, but not if I eat or what I eat.
“This is insane!” Looking through wet lashes, I can’t stop shaking. “Let me go!” I beg Stacks to understand that this is not okay. Taking my baby is not fucking normal! Candy has a kid outside that needs taking care of and she can’t even do that, what the fuck does she expect from a newborn?
Abrasive eyes run over my body before he bends down next to me, taking my ankle in his hand, he uncuffs it. The skin around my ankle bone is disgusting looking. It’s purple and yellow, scaly, and rough looking. Like a reptile that had been run over and left out in the heat for days.
He snatches my wrist and slaps the cuff around it. I wince from the metal clanking against the bone but he doesn’t seem to care about my pain. If anything, I’m just an inconvenience to his morning routine.