Homeless (16 page)

The homeless woman saw Lonnie walk up. She'd been socializing and acting like she was watching television in the recreation room. Becoming excited and anxious for the pills Lonnie promised he'd return with, she bounced around the room to all the other women of the shelter begging if they could watch her son. No one was quick to help the woman. No one did, actually. Having made a reputation for herself, the woman was known to stay out past curfew just so she could have an excuse not to care for her bratty kid overnight. Her promises to be “right back” meant nothing to her peers. They waved her off saying they had their own kids they needed a break from, then watched her walk out with her baby on her hip.

Amanda, who was standing by the door ready to lock down the shelter for the night, held it open for the woman to walk out of. Amanda didn't bother telling her the rules, as she already knew them and was reminded of them when put on probation. She simply jotted her name down for Miss Humphrey to deal with her in the morning.

“You got that for me, I know,” she said, breathing heavily as she ran over to him with her baby on her hip.

Lonnie looked at her like she had to be the dumbest woman alive for bringing her baby out into the night to cop pills. He knew killing the woman would be doing the child a favor so it wouldn't be neglected, mistreated, or left alone for days hungry 'cause the momma was someone stone-cold high.

“Yeah, I got a few on me but gotta go cop the rest from the spot around the corner. You and shorty wanna roll with me?” His intentions were to avoid sounding like the menacing, manipulative murderer that in reality he'd become. He wanted the woman to trust him. What he had planned would go much more smoothly if she bought into his act and took the suggested walk. If not, when it came down to it, he could care less how things popped off. Either way, he'd already made his mind up on the outcome. By hook or crook, Lonnie was going home tonight
with
the pills and another murder under his belt.

“Yeah, we can walk. That way, I can know where to score some when I get my coins up,” the lady responded, repositioning her son on her hip, then taking a step showing she was ready to follow. “We're ready to go, so lead the way.”

The two walked into the night, with the baby suckling on a pacifier. Lonnie made small talk, just to keep the woman comfortable until the time was right, while the woman soaked up every word. Left by the nigga who'd pumped her up with sperm and left the baby she was now struggling with on her own, the woman was blushing to Lonnie's simple words and corny jokes. Her mind started drifting off with the thought that maybe she and Lonnie could hook up and pop pills together sometime.

So caught up in what would never happen, the woman didn't realize they'd walked up the driveway of an abandoned home. Lonnie remembered passing the row of five when he walked passed, leery, not too long ago. When her voice sounded off as she finally realized where they were at, it was too late.

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, he pushed her against the brick wall and smashed her face against it. “All you had to do was mind ya' fuckin' business. Maybe tend to your child or some shit like that. But naw, you was too busy looking for a motherfucking problem. Now, you've found one.”

Grunting in pain and trying to get Lonnie's weight off her, the woman tried sliding down the wall to maneuver out of his grip, but just ended up burning her face on the mortar. She cried, knowing there was worse coming. Holding onto her son tightly, she prayed his innocence was spared.

Muzzling her screams with the pressure he was applying, Lonnie then twisted a handful of her hair into his hand and snatched her head back as hard as he could. He heard her neck pop right before slamming her head right back against the bricks even harder than he'd snatched it back. On instant impact, her cranium split open and blood poured from it.

Lonnie felt instant gratification. The shrill from the woman's baby boy crying out for his mother as he slipped to the ground never woke Lonnie up from his psychotic trance. Killing the woman who was trying to blackmail him had him feeling too damn good.

“Shhh, li'l man, it's cool,” Lonnie said to the child. “She wasn't gonna be a good mother to you anyway.” Sliding his hoodie off, he flung it behind him and out of the way. He didn't care if blood got onto his T-shirt.

Flipping the body of the now fresh corpse over, Lonnie straddled her, then pulled the box cutter from his pocket. Uncaring of the blood, the rubbish that was in between the houses, or the still crying child, a heartless Lonnie pried the woman's mouth open and sliced her tongue out of it. Like the other homeless woman, this was his way of permanently silencing her.

Seeming like a vampire, Lonnie held the tongue up like a champion trophy and marveled at it underneath the dancing light of the moon. When he was satisfied with his small and sick celebration, he stuck it back in her mouth. He then gripped her chin to hold her face still with one hand while cutting her lips with the blade of the box cutter right to left with the other hand. The repeated method of slicing and dicing turned him into a serial killer. When Lonnie was done, he stood up then leaned down over her body going through her pockets. He took the clothing voucher she'd gotten from Miss Humphrey, a ten-dollar bill, and a small bag of what Lonnie saw being sold at the trap house where he purchased pills from—blow. He wasn't gonna inhale the hard-hitting drug, but would sell it on the streets for either the ten it was worth or even for a few dollars less. Out of his rabbit-ass mind, Lonnie still had some sense.

Feeling supreme gratification, Lonnie grinned like the devil as he took one last glance at the dead homeless woman while exchanging his T-shirt for the hoodie alone. He then spun and left her sprawled out in the driveway. Now, he could finish his community service days at the shelter without worrying about the girl dropping knowledge to Miss Humphrey about him.

Or at least he thought so.

The woman's son was still crying, but much lower now. His tiny voice box was aching; his small chest and lungs couldn't handle all the emotion built up inside him because he was too young to be experiencing any of this. Unprotected from the rats, possums, and other rodents of the night, Lonnie left the baby where it lay as he disappeared into the night.

* * *

In and out of a deranged state of mind, Lonnie rushed up the street trying to get home. The voices in his head kept telling him to get there. He'd been fiddling with the box cutter he'd now killed two women with like he was anxious to pull it out and use it again. Lonnie's nervousness, anxiety, and paranoia not only came from him being scared over the consequences he couldn't endure if found out about, but from all the pills he was taking. Straight across the board—Adderall, Ecstasy, Abilify, Prozac, and Xanax all have similar side effects, with those three moods being the same. At some points during his travel time home, Lonnie couldn't figure out up from down.

Finally making it to his building, Lonnie dug through his pockets trying to find his key. Concentrating on getting in the house, he saw nothing else but the front door. He walked up the stairs and was about to go through the door when Trina finally spoke up that he'd stepped right past her.

“Long night? You didn't even see me on the stoop.” Trina's voice made Lonnie jump, almost out of his skin.

Not paying attention to the fact Lonnie was jumpy, she was more anxious to get inside of his apartment and out of the streets she felt so unsafe in. Although her face wasn't currently covered in tears, she'd been crying the whole time she'd been waiting on Lonnie to get home. Not having her dad by her side meant a whole new life for Trina. The thought saddened her. Following him in like a zombie, she didn't notice his cold and blank stare into space.

Lonnie's mind was stuck in a dark place. Whereas he'd tuned out the baby's cry when he was only a few feet from him murdering his mom, the psychotic teen heard his wails loud and clear when he navigated his way home. His head was throbbing, his adrenaline was still pumping, and the Abilify he'd popped while navigating his way home only seemed to be making his depression worse. Lonnie wanted to close himself up in his apartment and start over on a new day. Yet, before him was Trina, vulnerable and not aware she was in the care of a killer.

Both of them were caught up in their separate messes of life, but had come together needing the space around them to be filled with the presence of another human being. In complete silence until Lonnie unlocked the door for Trina to enter the apartment, she broke the muteness between them with loud and continual awes.

“Awe, now
this
is definitely an upgrade from what I've been accustomed to as of lately. Thanks for letting me crash here.” Walking into Lonnie's apartment, she felt ten times better even though her feelings were still in the dumps about her dad. A lot of the built-up anxiety she'd been experiencing while sitting alone with her thoughts had her paranoid her dad wouldn't leave from the hospital at all. Having only gotten control over her dreadful emotions a few minutes before Lonnie arrived, Trina felt that control slipping away again. The tears, fear, and even the pain she pushed down and bottled in from her aunt dying got caught up in her throat.

Lonnie recognized Trina's meltdown and for a minute, let her go through it on her own. He wasn't skilled in the art of consoling a woman. Wishing he had a sip of gin, 1800, or even a beer to offer her, he thought of the bag of blow in his pocket and wondered if she got down. Out of his element, Lonnie thought against offering her the drug and decided to offer her reassuring words instead. His words were a combination of what he wanted to hear Karisma's foster mother and even the caretaker's girlfriend say.

“All right, girl, you can quit all that crying and rest easy. My place is your place till you can come up on something better.” He withheld the truth that she had less than thirty days. Ironically, Trina had come to him for a place to stay from the streets, and he was on his way back to them.

Showing her a few paces over to his couch, he apologized for not having any extra covers for her comfort. Trina shrugged it off and asked if she could take a shower.

“I don't care if you don't have an extra towel either. If I can't use yours, I'm sure you've got something around here I can wipe dry with, or I'll air dry.” The wink she gave Lonnie told him she wanted to do something. Trina did. But only because she wanted to get the sad feeling of what was going on with her pops off her mind.

“It's cool that you're willing to compromise, 'cause I don't have an extra towel or washcloth. Being that it's only me, I only purchased one of each from the Dollar Store.”

“Well, damn, Lonnie, is there at least some soap in there I could use?” She was serious but sounded playful.

“Now
that
, I've got.”

“Good. Now, point me in the direction of your bathroom, and I'll be right back.”

Peeking out of the window discreetly, Lonnie was trying to take in his surroundings for what might've been different or stood out. Similar to the day he stashed the dead woman behind the shelter, he was on edge. Had Trina not been here, he would've been still and hushed. Hoping the cops didn't come while Trina was here, he turned on the television to create some noise. Since he couldn't listen for them, he didn't want them being able to listen to him . . . if they did come.

Lonnie heard the shower water turn on, then Trina's singing voice coming from the bathroom. He didn't know what song she was singing; yet, he knew it was beautiful. It was something about being strong and overcoming, a Gospel melody. Sliding his hoodie over his head, he laid it on the card table he used a dining-room table . . . completely forgetting about the bloody box cutter still being in his pocket. Within a split second, his mind was back on Trina and the possibilities of the night. Opening the bag of pills he'd promised the now-dead homeless woman, he threw the other half of the X-pill down his throat. Lonnie wanted to be as hard as he'd been the last few nights of jacking off; and even when Trina noticed his erection in front of the shelter.

Waiting on Trina to get done with her shower and the pill to kick in, Lonnie cleaned up a little and hid his documents from the court, along with his eviction paperwork in his backpack. He didn't want to be embarrassed by Trina seeing his business. Lonnie liked that he was mysterious to her and that she'd relied on him as if he was a real man. Since turning eighteen, Lonnie hadn't felt like the grown and mature man his mother told him she'd be proud of.

He wasted his energy trying to clean his space up so swiftly because Trina stayed in the shower for at least twenty minutes; and for each of those minutes, Lonnie paced and peeked out of the window. He even put some clothes at the bottom of the door so no one could glance in from underneath it. He planned on telling Trina that the neighbors were foreign and their food smells always seeped in and stunk up the place.

Finally out of the shower, Trina walked into the living room with her hair dripping wet and Lonnie's towel wrapped around her body. In the shower, she thought about all of her options and what she'd do if her dad's condition couldn't be treated. Then she thought about his basic state insurance and if they'd even pay for all the scripts and doctor visits he might need. The one thing that brought Trina to tears was that she didn't even know how she'd bury him if whatever he'd been diagnosed with was terminal. At her lowest and done crying underneath the mildew-covered showerhead, Trina had climbed out with the intention of making her pain go away.

“Damn, you look good as hell,” Lonnie blurted out, feeling his penis harden.