Authors: Criss Copp
*
“Time to go back chicken.”
I tell
Summer
.
I don’t know exactly why I call her chicken,
but I like the way it sounds… cute and endearing.
“Really?”
she sighs.
I sigh
too.
I don’t want to return either.
I am starting to wonder how we can escape and
survive the streets, but I know that’s just not going to happen.
We are quite literally stuck with what we
have, and it sucks!
I nod at
her and smile my biggest and brightest smile.
I managed to steal five dollars today from an unsuspecting parent
watching their kid in the parade today.
They had more than a five dollar note in their purse, but I wasn’t going
to push my luck.
Besides, I know that
most people around here don’t have lots of money.
“We’ll grab
a hotdog on the way home.” I say, luring her from her latest book by waving the
note in front of her.
She likes
books, actually, scrap that… she loves books.
I think she will be really smart when she grows up.
I like books too, but in all honesty, I do
the library thing for her; both for her entertainment and her safety.
However, the promise of convenient vendor
food is too good to pass, so she slams the book closed, rushes to Mrs. Hubert,
hands the book to her for safekeeping and shoulders her schoolbag ready.
“Goodbye
Mrs. Hubert…
have
a good night!” she chimes as she
walks towards the door.
“See you
tomorrow,
Summer
.
You too, Sally!” Mrs. Hubert replies with a smile, tucking
Summer’s
book under her desk.
*
We head
out, stopping to buy a hotdog each, along with a can of soda.
Derek is good like that; five dollars gets us
the works and a drink each from his cart.
I’m not sure if he can afford to practically hand over his food like
that, but he’s a really nice guy.
I know
not all guys are jerks... just the ones Marjorie brings home.
We both
wolf down the food.
Summer can almost
outdo me.
But it’s a little cold out
tonight, and we are in a hurry to return to the apartment now that we are
outside of the library.
No key is
needed for our front door... Marjorie is an idiot... she’s left it unlocked
again.
Oh and of course, she’s out cold
on the lounge room floor... nice!
No
sign of that asshole though, so I take
Summer
to the
bathroom and lock the door behind us.
It saves
time to share a bath, so we do.
I know
we are getting too old to be doing this, but right now, I just don’t care.
Summer likes to wash my hair, and I like her
washing it too.
By the time we are
finished, the bath looks pretty murky.
We definitely needed a bath tonight; at least
Summer
did, with all that gunk all over her.
We
hop out and I sniff the towels, looking for the best ones to use.
I’ll need to do the laundry this weekend, for
Summer
and I at least.
I never do Marjorie’s or the man whores laundry.
Opening the
door, towels wrapped around our hair, bedclothes on, I check to see if the
coast is clear.
Summer is behind me,
chewing her nails.
I pick up the
familiar unease that signals the man whore is here.
I can’t see him, but I can feel his presence.
Looking up and down the hallway, I decide
speed is more important than stealth.
He
could come around the corner at any time.
Signaling
to
Summer
that we need to run, quiet if possible, to
our room; I push her through the door, and proceed to follow.
We make it
inside our room unscathed.
I lock the
door with the puny little bolt that even I know would snap.
It buys us time if anything tries to come
through the door though, so I use it all the same.
We breathe
a deep sigh of relief.
I smile at her,
another evening averted.
*
Bang.
.. and another
bang,
a pounding on the door... I wake up immediately, but still
groggy from my sleep.
The man whore is
smashing his fists up against the door.
I want to panic, and I kind of do, but only momentarily.
The light thrown through the window from the
city outside allows me to see clearly, so I am throwing myself off the bed
toward my terrified little
Summer
, who is holding her
dirty unkempt quilt up to her face, and imploring me to tell her what to
do.
Her bed is the furthest away from
the door.
The gap below it is miniscule;
however, she is still small enough to get under.
I gesture wildly for her to do so, and she
succeeds with no time to spare, before the asshole breaks through the door and
slams the light on.
I am
momentarily blind, and stunned, and he uses this second to his advantage by
grabbing my hair at the back of my head, and pulling my face up to his.
He is sneering.
“Are you as
juicy as your mother?” he asks.
I’m
terrified; I have no illusions about what he means... I’ve been around Marjorie
too long not to understand him entirely.
Although this has never happened before, I have been subject to abusive
outbursts from her past boyfriends.
I can’t
answer... my mouth won’t work, and I don’t know what to say anyway.
I just assume that this is just another thing
that I want to get over and done with as soon as possible.
He grunts,
throws me onto my bed face down and starts to tear my pants down.
I try to get up, but he pushes me down
again.
I can’t see what he is doing, but
again, I don’t really need to... I just kind of know, and now my panic is at
full flight.
No, this is NOT something I
want to get over and done with as soon as possible... it’s something I don’t
want at all to happen, not now, and not ever.
So I buck, kick and tumble, but I am up against a very big man, and he
is stronger than me... by a lot!
“A bit of
dark meat...” he laughs at his own vile joke. “
An appetizer!”
He says.
He grabs my hips and jerks my
backside up.
Up until
now I hadn’t found my voice, I was choking on my fear... but now, the words
tumbled out between sobs.
“Please,
sir... don’t
do this.” I plead, tears pouring down my face.
“What,
this?” he said, momentarily before tearing me in half.
Summer.
Sal is
screaming, like no scream I have ever heard.
It chills me right through.
I
imagine someone will storm through the door and rescue her for sure, but the
rescue doesn’t come... and still she is screaming.
I move to
the edge of the bed.
I remember the
light being off, but the man must have put it on when he entered the room, it
is so bright it is burning my eyes.
I poke my
head out, only slightly, just so my face is exposed... and I blink till my eyes
adjust.
My insides are clenching and I
want to vomit up all of Derek’s hotdog.
My bed is
at right angles to Sally’s.
She is
currently on her chest, her head turned to the side, facing me, and he is
pounding against her bottom, which is raised; with his hips while he is focused
on the wall.
I can’t
hear her screams as much right now... there is like a piercing monotone screech
that is registering in my head.
But I
can see everything.
His penis is
stabbing her.
And there is blood... lots
of blood.
I now register that she can
see me... and although I can’t hear what she is saying, I can see from her lips
that it’s the word ‘no’, over and over.
Her eyes are pleading, and she stretches her hand out in a stop signal.
Sally.
I am
burning... down there... a thousand times worse than any ‘
chinese
burn’ that Craig Harris has managed to give me over the years.
And I feel as though my insides are tearing,
he is tearing chunks from me and forcing them inside.
I can hear him grunting each time he thrusts
forward, and I am dying each and every time that he does.
I can also feel something wet slide down my
inner thighs.
I am still screaming when
I see her face through my tears and turmoil.
I instantly stop screaming.
I am
jolting from his movements, but I am mouthing words to her and hoping she can
understand.
‘NO, NO,
NO, NO....’ I plead silently, mouthing the words over and over.
I hold up my hand instinctively.
He howls a
guttural noise and stops.
I am too late
to pull my hand back or simply lay it flat.
He has seen it.
“The main
course has arrived... come here
darlin
’.” He says,
pulling out of me and leaving me to fall forward onto the bed.
He moves
over to her bed, and begins to grapple under it.
“Come on...
I’ll be a bit more gentle with you honey.” He whispers fiercely.
Can he be
serious?
He plans on doing this to her?
My baby?
My delight?
No fucking
way!
The pain
between my legs is extreme.
I can only
imagine what this would do to her if he managed to have her.
Fuck the
blood, fuck the pain and fuck my pants and panties.
They’re gone; I rip them from my ankles and
stumble off the bed and out of the room.
Summer.
He’s got my
wrist, and despite telling me he’ll be gentle, he is yanking me to the edge of
the bed and hurting my arm.
At the edge
of the bed, he picks up the edge of it and yanks me clean out from under
it.
I am at his feet.
He drops the bed and pulls me up.
He is tearing the front of my shirt open with
one hand, holding my arms behind me with the other, and the buttons are popping
off everywhere.
Then, my
hands are falling back to my sides, and warm, thick sticky fluid is splattering
me.
I can’t scream, since I am unsure
what is happening, so I continue to stare.
He is crumbling, right in front of me.
Sal is behind him, panting wildly, our biggest knife from the kitchen in
her hand, a wild look in her eyes and she is naked from the waist down.
She has blood all over her... all over
her.
He is
moving again.
So she jumps on him, and
begins to plunge the knife down in a stabbing motion.
His throat is meaty and broken open.
Blood is rising up through it.
His chest is punctured everywhere, Sal is
struggling to hold the knife this time as she plunges it into him again, so it
clatters to the ground and her hand is sliced open.
She is
crying now... Sal never cries... but she is crying now.
Big gut wrenching sobs.
I go to her, and she tells me she is okay,
but that I need to go to Mrs. Prince and have her call the cops, so I do.
*
“What’s
with all the banging, and screaming, and wailing?” Mrs. Prince shouts from the
other side of the door.
“It’s me,
Summer
.” I shout.
She
wrenches open the door.
I must look
awful, because she swoons! She also nearly vomits.
“I really
need you to call the cops, Mrs. Prince, Sal is really badly hurt!” I tell
her.
She reaches out to grab my arm, but
I dodge her. “I have to get back, she needs me.” I reason, before stumbling to
the stairs and speeding my way up them, oblivious to her shouting behind me.
*
“They’re
coming.” I say to Sal’s back.
She is
slumped on the floor, but she hasn’t otherwise moved.
Her curly springy hair is matted with blood,
so I smooth it away from her face.
She isn’t
speaking, just sobbing between great gasps of air.
I struggle to hold her, she moves so
violently, but I cannot let her go... I love her!