Dinner was silent between the three of us. Even Reese didn't try and beg for a wonton. And there was so much staring. Janel was staring at Pat who was staring at me. And I? I was staring into my lap. Dinner was awkward, but it only got worse from there, for Loise had to make sure Janel and Pat were snug in his bedroom for the rest of the night. So I sat on my couch bed with something close to a pout on my face as I sat alone watching tv.
I then shut the tv off and attempted to eavesdrop. At first there was nothing. Then I heard Janel's muffled voice, "What not Patty?
"I've told you. Not until we're married."
"Please Patty," Janel now begged.
"No for the last time."
Janel now shrieked, "This shit you pull with me! This after-marriage shit! No no no! I bet you're more than willing to get into Loise's pants!"
I covered my mouth in silent shock. Did she see us through the windows? It was silent through the wall and I got closer, trying to catch something. Now my ear was placed against the wall. I heard faint creaking, perhaps from his bed. Then I heard Janel, barely a whisper, "Are you serious Patrick?"
"Yeah, whatever." My brain gave a click and I realized what exactly he was agreeing to. Shocked, I crawled as far away from the door as possible, expecting to not be able to hear anything from where I now sat.
Boy, was I wrong. They were both insanly loud. It was as if they were rhinos or elephants. And they both kept screaming each other's names, "Oh for Christ's sake," I finally yelled in annoyance. Was Pat doing that on purpose or was he really enjoying it? Nevertheless, I grabbed my iPod-which was luckily found in my pants pocket from when I escaped-and I shoved the buds in my ears and turned the volume up graciously, blasting away the moans.
It was about midnight when I saw light shining. Pat's bedroom door opened and closed, a figure walking towards the living room. I ripped my earbuds out, "Could you have been any fucking louder?" I asked with venom. Pat looked at me, then groaned, "You thought I enjoyed that?" He sounded angered as well, "That was terribly, okay? I only made those noises so she wouldn't feel bad...or try harder," He switched on a lamp, "Look at this." He turned around and lifted his shirt up. I gasped at the sight of streaks of red, some bleeding, searing down his back, "What is that from?"
"Her," He hissed, "That's her painful belief of what sex is. If anything I was moaning in pain from that."
"Ouch could those be infected?" I inched my hand closer, unsure whether to touch the marks.
"I don't know, why don't you ask Loise?" Pat taunted.
"Now you and I both know that was the best way to handle-"
"There's no way that the best way to handle things was by impersonating some freak who tells complete pyschos to handle my dick!"
"I only did that to get back at you for scaring me!"
"Oh boo hoo, wittle Bree got scared."
I stood staring straight into grey eyes, hands tightened into fists full of anger. I closed my eyes and said the first three words that came to my mind, "I hate you."
Pat's anger disappeared instantly from his eyes, "Wha...what?"
"You heard me. I. Hate. You," I enuciated each word for him, "And I'm leaving tonight for Creeves."
Pat shook his head and reacted, "But you can't leave. Creeves, he'll...he'll..."
"I managed perfectly fine before." I walked around the living room, searching for all things that were mine; it wasn't that much. Pat caught my hand and pulled me back out of the doorway of his apartment, "Bree....please," He looked so disheartened that I felt a lump form in my throat, but I was still too angry to change my mom, so I tore my hand from his, "I'll call."
Then I slammed the door shut, walking away from the only safe haven I've ever known.
* * *
As I was walking up the steps into my real "house" the next evening, it hit me exactly what I've done: basically throwing myself out to the devil, "Oh my God. Why the heck am I here? I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid."
Just then a pretty beat up car pulled along the street in front of the house. Then I heard someone whistle, "Well aren't you a sweet looking piece of meat," I turned to see an equally beat up looking man in the car. My guess was meth, face being covered in the trademark scabs, "Why don't you come in? Got some delicious ice and you do look like one in need of a-"
"That's enough Brian," I turned to see my savior, only was diappointed when I saw Creeves, "Besides, that ice is mine."
So he's moved to crystal meth now. Wonderful. I felt his hand on my shoulder, "Welcome back Bree," He said with a smelly sneer, "Go on inside, I'll be in there soon." He shoved me then towards the house, pupils already dialating from the mere thought of getting high.
As soon as I got inside I ran around the house in search of the best hiding spot. I found it in the laundry hamper. I doved into it and tried to slow my hysteric breathing so I'd be less louder, "Bree!" Creeves barked, "Where are you?"
I didn't answer.
"Bree, come down and smoke a pipe with me."
He was trying to be nice now. Too bad it wasn't going to work. But then it was silent, deathly silent. I slowly opened the hamper's top a bit to peek out.
The the basket was tipped over and I fell out along with pants, shirts, socks, and underwear. I managed to crawl away and up so I could run. Unfortuently, I tripped on the step down into the garage and fell. Creeves thrust me upwards and pinched my jaw, "Who was it?" He spat, "Who 'helped' you this time? Or did you finally go to the whorehouse where you belong?"
I didn't answer him, but then he shook me, "Well?"
"Why should I tell you? I'll say it was way better than here. Heck, a whorehouse would be better than this."
His hands were shaking and I knew I pushed him too far, "You ungrateful slut." He threw me, hard, on the ground and I shrieked with pain: the floor was cold, hard, unforgiving concrete. I moved so I was sitting up and then looked down...immediatly wishing I hadn't, for my arm was broken and bent at the sickest of angles. Unable to move from being racked with pain, I turned my head to another side and threw up. As I was retching I heard Creeves, "There. I think that'll teach you." Then Creeves walked away, slamming and locking the door shut. For once I was glad I was in darkness, for I couldn't see my broken arm or the vomit. The pain was still terrible, but I was able to tune it out to a dull, steady throbbing. I pushed myself away from the bile with my feet to a corner in the garage. Then, I closed my eyes and fell asleep with a mind full of dreams, starring Pat.
Too bad dreams aren't reality.
I awoke to blinding lights and Creeves glaring at me, pupils extremely big, bigger than mine, "I'm going to work, try to make some sort of split with the crap around here while I'm gone," He begun walking, but then stopped near the vomit. Creeves pointed at it in digust and said, "And clean that up too." Then the door was shut and locked again and I was all alone. I shimmied my phone from my pocket with my good hand (thankfully the phone was not broken) and scrolled down until I reached Pat's number, then waited for him to pick up.