Run (2 page)

I finally heard her voice in the hallway. I stood up, staring at my naked frame in the foggy mirror. I wondered what she thought was so beautiful about me, why she always compared me to a piece of art. I barely had boobs, not that I minded. Aunt Wanda always complained how her large chest gave her back aches.

My hair was a drab brown and way too long.

They say your eyes are the window to your soul. If that’s true, mine showed just how dull and lifeless my soul was.

I was skinny--almost too skinny. Most days it seemed like my body had a mind of its own. I was awkward and fidgety. But Wanda said that was another quality that made me such a catch. She said men liked girls who weren’t comfortable in their own skin.

And I envied anyone with a tan, because I had the complexion of a recluse.

I pulled on my jeans and tank top and headed into the hallway, keeping my eyes on the ground, not wanting to look at the idiot. Who was he to think he could take advantage? If I hadn’t been so worried about stirring up trouble, I’d have socked him a good one.

I tossed our suitcase next to Wanda. She was lying on top of Jon on the sofa. She didn’t even notice. I headed out the front door, the night air hitting me in the face as I hurried down the steps into their poorly tended lawn.

I ran a hand through my damp hair, lightly pulling through any remaining tangles. I stared up at the moon glowing overhead, wondering what I should do. I was stuck, once again.

The door opened and slammed shut. My body tensed. I prayed it was Wanda.

“What, you don’t want to finish what was started back there?” Ben asked.

I backed away.

“Just go away,” I said.

He came closer, grabbing my arm. “Where is it?”

I hesitated, surprised he knew I stole his money. I didn’t know what to say. I just wanted everything going on to end.

He was fast as lightning. In seconds he had a hold on my hair. He pushed me to the ground, knocking the wind out of me. I struggled to get out from under him as he searched for his money.

Finally, I got one hand free. I hit him in the face and pulled at his hair trying to get away.

“Just give me the money and I’ll let you go.” He grabbed me by the shirt.

“Get off me!”

I flinched when he hit me in the face. He tried to cover my mouth and I bit down on his hand.

“Ben, go back in the house,” someone said from the darkness. The moonlight revealed him when he approached. Ben looked at me one last time before he gave up and went back inside.

I swore he was an angel. His shaggy blond hair shimmered in the moonlight. Sitting on my knees, I stared up at him, touching my face for signs of blood before accepting his help off the ground.

“I don’t know what happened. But I’m sorry,” he said brushing grass from my clothes.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry,” I stammered, searching for somewhere to go. He watched, crossing his arms as I headed toward our car.

“Where you two heading? Is that woman you’re with a drug addict?”

I leaned against our car. “She uses drugs on occasion, but it’s not a problem,” I said, like I always did.

He nodded.

“Thanks very much. You didn’t have to help.” I knew he thought I was a thief.

“What. Are you kidding? You were never going to get away from Ben. He was a wrestler in high school,” he said, a small smile on his face. I studied his expression trying to figure out the meaning behind it.

“Well, thanks.” I looked away.

“I don’t care if you took his money. Are you in trouble? I mean what’s the deal with the two of you? Are you gypsies or something?” he asked, genuinely interested.

I ran a hand through my hair.

“She likes to travel. We’re headed for California.” I always wondered how long before that actually happened. It had been the goal for years. But something always came along to foil our plans.

“Do you like to travel?” he asked.

“I’m used to it. It’s what we do.” I shrugged, staring at my dirty feet, wishing the night would come to a quick end so we could be on our way.

“You seem sad.” I always looked sad—it was the norm for me anymore.

“No, just tired. I was really hoping to get some sleep, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

“I live next door, come on,” he said, heading across the grass. I followed reluctantly. What to do? It was a toss-up really. What would be worse, being next door to a drunk drug dealer or with a stranger that could be just as crazy.

“You can sleep on the couch. I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets.” He headed out of the living room. It was a lot neater in his home compared to what I’d just left behind.

I followed him down the hallway, coming to a stop behind him as he pulled a blanket from his closet.

“Whoa!  You scared me. Are you ok?” He raised an eyebrow running a hand down the back of his neck.

“I don’t care if you’re expecting a favor,” I told him, waiting for him to touch me.

“What? Oh no. Honestly, I just want you to be able to sleep. I’m not like that. I have a girlfriend.” He hurried past me.

I let out a huge sigh of relief. At least now I knew he wasn’t going to try anything.

I climbed onto his couch, my body thankful for the comfort, and the paranoia and fear melted away. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and drew my knees to my stomach.

“Goodnight,” he said, turning off the lamp.

The room fell silent. I fell asleep hoping tomorrow would be better.

It was morning. The sun was high.

I sat in the grass behind our car peeling apart a long twig and waiting on Aunt Wanda. I hoped she would get up soon so we could go.

My stomach growled…loudly. So loud I could hear it every time. There was no way I would go back inside that house after everything that happened. I gave Aunt Wanda ten more minutes and then I was going to walk down the street to the gas station. It’d be a long, uncomfortable walk without shoes.

The guy from last night came out of his house, his front door screeching and then falling back with a soft thud. I watched him stretch. He raised his arms above his head as he looked around, taking in the day.

I dropped the stick as soon as I realized he was coming over.

“Good morning! You’re still here.” He rested his hand on our rusty car.

“Morning,” I said back. I stood, feeling a bit odd sitting on the ground while he talked to me. I was sure he pitied me enough already.

“Have you eaten?” he asked. He tilted his head, his eyebrows lifting just the slightest as he waited for a reply.

“I’m waiting on Wanda,” I told him. I ran my hands against my shorts brushing the grass and dirt away. I realized he was cute, a natural blond with a beautiful mouth and perfectly simple features. I liked the way his eyes were warm and looked full of life. I didn’t see that very much.

“What did you say your name was?” he asked, leaning against the car. He crossed his arms and batted at the grass with his foot.

“Kendall, you didn’t say what yours was either.”

“Ryan Bridger. I’ve lived here my entire life. I work construction. Can’t say that I’m the best of friends with Jon and his boys, but sometimes I get bored,” he said, offering more information than I needed.

“Nice to meet you, Ryan.” I smiled a little as I met up with his eyes. He smiled back.

“Are you hungry? I can fix breakfast. I hate to see you out here hungry,” he said. “Because I think we both know Wanda ain’t coming out of that house anytime soon.”

I nodded in agreement. We walked to his house and went inside.

Ryan headed for the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards for pots and pans. It was obvious he didn’t do much cooking. I was starting to wonder if he even had a girlfriend.

He cleared the newspapers off the kitchen table and hurried to toss his jacket from the chair. “Have a seat,” he said.

He started cracking eggs in a bowl, looking up every couple seconds to make sure I was still with him.

“Where are you from?”

I thought about his question, debating on whether to tell the truth or a lie. Lies were easier and left no trail to be followed. Sometimes when I felt someone deserved the truth, I’d give up a few details about myself.

“South Carolina,” I answered.

He nodded, not knowing if that was the truth or a lie.

“How did you end up with your aunt? Where’s your folks?” he pressed.

“Um, just one of those things that happened, my mom’s dead. And I don’t know my father. I mean… I know his name, but never met him,” I said.

The last I knew, my mom was alive and well, probably lying with some man as I sat in this man’s kitchen.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“My mom has another daughter. But she was taken away from her. Years before I was born,” I said.

And that was true. Little miss Joy-Ann had gotten herself knocked up by the principal of her high school. She was a freshman and he found any and every reason to see her in his office. Eventually, Mom did what she always did and slept with him. She never imagined that she would end up pregnant. Being barely fifteen with a kid wasn’t going to work out too well for her. She had no parents to help support the kid. And the principal wanted nothing to do with her. So my sister, Coral, was taken away from her and the principal found a way to get her suspended from school.

Mom always said she never broke into the school and that she didn’t steal from the school either. But coming from her, I didn’t believe her one way or another. I just knew that Coral was saved all because of it.

Ryan carried the two plates to the table. He set down two forks. He did his best to dish out scrambled eggs. I wasn’t going to complain about the food, I hadn’t eaten since the morning before.

We ate and chatted. It grew quiet after a time—I was never good at making conversation.

I finally stood up, dreading the idea that I had to go back outside and wait for Wanda. “Do you mind if I hang out until Wanda is ready to leave?”

He looked relieved. “Of course. You can watch TV, take a nap, whatever. I don’t mind at all.”

“What are some of your favorite shows?” he asked, flipping through the channels.

“I’ve always liked actions movies. And old school gore.” I smiled.

He nodded, biting down on his lip as he looked at me. I knew what it meant, he was attracted to me. I moved closer, my hands pressing into the couch cushion on either side of his legs. He acted a bit shocked.

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he said, but his kiss said otherwise.

“I don’t care what kind of guy you are. You know nothing about me or who I am,” I told him, I guided his hands to my chest, holding them there so he could feel my heart pounding.

In an instant, his hands attacked me, his fingers glided down my ribcage. I pulled my shirt over my head. He tossed it on the floor. I was enjoying this a whole lot more than I thought I would.

I leaned back against the couch, wrapped my legs around his waist and helped him out of his jeans. He was in a hurry, and I wondered how often he had sex. He seemed a bit too eager.

I ran my fingers through his hair. He was a good kisser, but I broke away—kissing made it way too personal. Nice guys like him kissed nice girls—I wasn’t a nice girl.

He worked on my shorts, finally freeing me.

“I’ll be back,” he said jumping up. I sat up, staring down at my bare legs.

“What are you doing?” I said, growing a little impatient.

“Just grabbing a condom,” he said back.

I trailed my fingers across my stomach waiting for him to come back.

I barely heard the front door when it slammed against the wall, and an enraged blonde busted into the house, her fist swinging as soon as I saw her.

“Who the hell are you, bitch?” she said, throwing her purse on the ground ready to fight.

I was already in the kitchen hopping into my shorts.

“He obviously has a girlfriend,” I muttered. She rushed the table, flipping it on its side. I backed up, tugging my shirt on, glad to be dressed.

“You’re damn right he has a girlfriend. Ryan where you at? You sorry son of a bitch,” she yelled. “I’m telling my brother and he’s going to beat the piss out of you.”

I felt bad, but at the same time I was angry. Here I was in another situation trying to fight my way out. “You get away from me or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” I warned. I kicked the chair over to show I meant it.

She screamed at me and crashed over the table, her hands immediately finding my hair as she threw me down on the floor. I held onto her arms, fighting to get on my side. The trick was to never end up on the bottom. Being on the bottom meant your face was about to be pummeled. Being on the bottom also meant you were shit out of luck. Aunt Wanda taught me everything I needed to know about fighting.

I pressed my knees into her stomach, gaining control.

“Don’t you touch me!” I spit in her face swinging my fist, colliding with her pretty little nose.

She rolled over, taking me with her. I couldn’t believe such a petite little blonde had such muscle behind her. I fought against her, my head slamming against the floor.

“Why are you in my house with Ryan? Who the hell are you?” She swung, hitting me in the face, and clawed me with her painted nails.

Ryan finally showed himself. He was dressed. He pulled her off me along with a chunk of my hair. I jumped up and started for the door, but didn’t make it. She jumped on my back like a rabid monkey. I lost my footing and crashed onto the floor.

He told her to let me go, only adding fuel to her fire.

Gun shots sliced through the air and my eardrums rang from the blast. I lifted myself from the ground, looking down at the blonde cowering in fear of Aunt Wanda, who had the gun aimed right at her head. Not a single ounce of Wanda trembled as she locked on her target.

“Stay where you are, bitch,” she growled. She motioned for me to get out of the house. I looked at Ryan one last time; his face white as a ghost. First, he had been caught with another woman and then a crazy lady barged in his house wielding a pistol.

“Let’s go,” I said from the doorway as I examined my bloody knuckles. I hoped it wasn’t about to turn ugly.

“You should be lucky I don’t blow your pretty little head all over this shit hole,” she screamed, kicking the coffee table.

“I’m sorry!” she said, crouched down on the floor. Ryan stayed where he was.

“Let’s go, please,” I begged.

“Kendall, shut your mouth. This is your mess anyways. You should know better than to try and screw men with houses,” she scolded me.

I sighed as I walked out the door, wishing I had a gun of my own to blow
her
head off.

Two shots rang out. I headed back over to Jon’s to gather our things. I knew the drill. As I walked through the front door I could smell smoke and stale beer. I stepped over Jon’s body on the floor. I passed the creep who had nearly tried to have his way with me, the bullet hole in his head left a trail down the side of his face.

I wasn’t sure where the other one was, but I knew he was dead.

Finding the suitcase, I opened it up to find a stack of cash and a bag of marijuana.

“I guess that’s what you get for dealing drugs, huh, Jon?” I said, as I passed him to get to the door.

Wanda was in the yard unscrewing the license plate from Jon’s pickup. She jumped to her feet taking the suitcase from me, her expression serious as she hustled to throw our things in the truck.

I hadn’t even heard the gunshots go off before she busted into Ryan’s house.

“Go in there and see what you can find,” she ordered.

I headed back into Ryan’s house. His dead body was slumped against the kitchen wall, his girlfriend’s between the coffee table and the couch. I clutched my stomach, feeling sick. He didn’t deserve to die.

I rummaged through drawers ending up with sixty bucks and a bottle of pain pills.

I jogged back out to the truck. Wanda was ready to go. She studied the items, opening up the bottle of pills and swallowed a few before tossing them beside her on the seat.

“Well, Kendall, here we go. On the road, again,” she said, smirking as we headed down the road.