She wasn’t always like this. She’s a different woman now. A part of her has died, and the longer I stay here, the more she drags me down, killing me alongside her.
Another bead of sweat falls between my breasts as I wait for Trevor to come out of the door. It’s around twelve in the afternoon, so I don’t understand why he isn’t on his way to collect money from his whores after the long night of having sex with multiple people.
Yeah, I know. I just called my mother a whore, but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…
It’s a damn duck.
I love her, and I’ll never tell her that to her face, but truths hurt, and the truth laying in that house hurts me every damn day.
Realizing he isn’t going to come out of the house, I drag my feet from the woods and walk the plank to the front door. I stare at the ground, noticing the dead grass alongside of the broken cement path. There’s a lawn gnome beside the steps hiding in the tall brush, effectively creeping me out. His red gnome hat is covered in filth, and his eyes are faded from the weather. He looks more like a ghoul in my opinion.
“Protecting the yard, Frank?” I ask him, knowing he can’t answer back. Yeah, I named my yard gnome, so what? “Things might rise from the ground if you aren’t careful.” Out of habit, I pluck a dandelion from its stem and twist it between my finger, debating if I want blow the seeds off to watch them float in the air.
Making wishes are for silly little girls.
The dandelion slowly slips between my fingers and falls to the porch, leaving behind seeds of doubt instead of hopeful promises.
Twisting the knob, it’s hot from the high noon. I hiss and bring my fingers to my mouth. “Damn it.” My spit cools them off briefly, and I pull them from my mouth. I grab the hem of my shirt and wrap it around the silver handle, twist, and push. The old wooden door swings open on a haunted groan, and the sun spills in through the entryway.
The hardwood floors are worn and scratched. The light glitters off the dust particles in the air. If I knew the house wasn’t so rotten on the inside, I would think seeing the stepping inside a place I call home a beautiful thing.
The floor moans as I step inside, steady and unrushed. I look toward the couch and, just like every other day, there’s Mom, unconscious. Trevor is kicked back in the green recliner that used to be my dad’s. Trevor has ruined it, like everything else he’s touched.
I won’t let him do that to me.
Closing the door behind me, I send a silent prayer somewhere that it shuts quickly. The click is soft, and I let out a breath and take one last look at Trevor, snoring, and a few bottles of beer on the floor surrounding him.
Tiptoeing, I move as stealthily as I can down the hall and around the corner to get to my room. My only safe place. I hurry inside and lean against the door, locking it so no one can come in. Tears gather in my eyes, but with a shake of my head, I refuse to cry. This is my life now. This won’t be my life forever.
Letting out a deep breath, I shrug off my backpack and toss it on the bed, along with my phone. I’m sticky from sweat, frustrated, and annoyed. I need a shower.
“Hey, Dad,” I whisper, touching the picture frame on my computer desk as I stride into the bathroom and turn on the shower. The water comes out, and I twist the handles the other way to lower the temperature since it’s so hot out.
Undressing, I leave the heap of clothes in the middle of the tile floor and stare at myself in the mirror that’s hanging above the sink until the glass fogs, clouding my reflection.
I don’t know what Trevor sees, but I wish he didn’t. I sure as hell don’t see anything beautiful staring back at me.
I step inside the shower, and the lukewarm water has me sighing with relief. The sweltering heat on my skin fades, and I stand there for a minute, letting the rush of water flow down my body. I think about Isaac, how selfish I’ve been, and wrong it was for me to do what I did.
And what makes it even worse, I have no regrets.
I’d do it all over again.
“You’re such a shitty person, Finley,” I tell myself as I shut off the water. I yank the towel off the rack and wrap it around my body, tucking the edge of fabric under my arm. I wring my hair out and step out of the tub.
“You made a mistake. Just don’t talk to him anymore. Move on. Your attempt at an escape failed,” I mumble.
I hum as I stroll into my bedroom, my wet feet squishing against the hardwood floors. Opening up the secondhand antique dresser, I snag underwear and comfortable shorts along with a white tank top.
“You shouldn’t be allowed to walk around like that.”
I drop the clothes in my hand and spin around, clutching the towel tightly in my grasp.
Trevor.
I locked my door. He shouldn’t be in here.
“Get out of my room,” I hiss, but the bravado on the outside doesn’t match what I feel on the inside.
I’m shaking. My mouth is dry, and my pulse quickens. I’m standing here naked, only a thin towel covering my body.
And he’s looking at me like I’m his next drug fix.
Trevor’s dirty hair hangs like strings in his face, black as soot, and his eyes are flames as he takes a step forward, pushing himself off the wall. His hand drags along the turquoise comforter of my bed as he prowls closer to me. I lean against the dresser, wishing it would swallow me hole so I could disappear.
I want to be anywhere but here.
Trevor stops in front of me and bites his lip into his mouth. He rubs his hand down his shaved chest, dipping his fingers over the ridges of his lean abdomen. “You’re a real pretty girl, Finley.” He reaches toward my face, and I flinch when he runs his fingers through my wet hair. “I love the color of your hair. Damn, you’d do well on the street.”
His fingers drift down my cheek, and I pull away. “Don’t touch me!”
Trevor slams me against the dresser, and I can feel the hard ridge of his erection in his jeans pressing against my thigh. His hand is around my throat. “Listen, your prude fucking bitch. I own you. I own this fucking house. I own your mom. I own everything in this town. When I say you’ll do well on the street, it’s a fact because you’re going to bring me a lot of money. You don’t have a choice. You’ll sell for top dollar. I bet you’re a virgin too. All young and ripe, waiting to be taken by a real man.”
My face flushes with embarrassment and terror. I’ve never been this close to a man before, and he’s scaring me. I know how it sounds. Weak, pathetic, and I’m ashamed. “You don’t know shit.” I gather spit in my mouth and launch it in his face. His hands fall away from my throat, and I take the opportunity to run.
“You little slut!”
I run to the door, heart pounding and blood rushing to my ears. As I wrench it open, he grabs me by the arm and throws me on the bed.
“I’ll fucking show you.”
“Get off me!” I scream, and a tear slides out of the corner of my eye when he rips the towel from my body. I kick him in the face, and his head snaps back. I turn to roll off the bed, but he grabs my ankle and yanks me to the edge. “No,” I cry when I hear the zipper of his pants.
“Shut up, Finley. I’m sick of you throwing this body around and not expecting it to get claimed. I’ll show you. Maybe I’ll keep you all for myself because this body is to fucking die for.”