“You’re more like your father every day, you know.”
I shrugged. “And if that means fighting for my own life when you won’t even fight for yours, then so be it.”
I left my mother to her choice and walked back upstairs. I gathered my things, shoving them into my purse. I packed a change of clothes and my phone charger. A few toiletries. I packed down my purse in case I got the opportunity to stay somewhere else. Then I grabbed my backpack for good measure. I reached for the bike Allison had loaned me and walked it up the driveway, listening to sirens roar in the distance. And as I walked up the street, I turned to look back. To take one last look at my house before I went to work.
Committing it to memory, in case I never saw it again.
I felt numb. As I peddled out of the neighborhood, I felt the rest of my body grow numb. An ambulance and two police cars raced by me. I didn’t even stop to watch them as they made their way into the neighborhood. I didn’t even debate on whether or not to skip work and stay with Mom. Because I knew my time was better spent earning money to get me the hell away from this place. I peddled faster. I broke a sweat getting to work. I let my worries about Clint and my mother and D.J. and my future fall to the wayside as I cycled into the parking lot.
I chained up Allison’s bike and walked into the grocery store, leaving my proverbial baggage outside as I went to put my backpack and purse underneath my register.
25
Clinton
I hissed as I moved the ice packs. Three of them, to be exact. Sliding around my body as bruises kicked up, grew hot, then subsided into nothing but a dull ache. As I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, I laughed bitterly to myself. It was a wonder no bones had been broken. That, miraculously, I wasn’t bleeding all over the place.
Because judging by the state of things downstairs, Dad had really tossed me around.
Pictures crashed to the ground and dents were impacted into the walls. The banister was crooked now, cracked in three separate places. Now, I didn’t know much about moving. But I figured the new tenants of this place wouldn't be happy with the destruction. Which meant that my beating had bought me a little more time in this place.
Unless Dad dropped the price of the house for them substantially.
That was the furthest thing from my mind, though. The only thing I focused on was the ceiling while Cecilia and Dad yelled at one another downstairs. Hearing her angry voice waft through the floor was definitely a treat. One I thought I’d never hear again. But I supposed she had gotten her footing. Found the courage to stand up to my father after waking me up in my bed.
How I got here, however, I still didn’t know.
All I knew was that when I opened my eyes, I saw her. Cecilia. The image of Rae faded away and was replaced by the face of a woman that had been more my mother than my own had ever been. And even though concern was etched across her face, anger flooded her eyes.
Anger she now unleashed against my father.
“You’ve gone too far, Howard. You should be jailed for this!”
“And you’d go back to living on the street. What are you going to do, huh? Have sex with men for money? You’re not even good at it, Cece!”
“And you're even more abusive than my father, you pretentious asshole!”
They argued for a little while longer. Then the front door slammed. The only reason I knew that Cecilia had stayed behind was because I heard her still screaming downstairs. Still yelling at nothing as my father peeled out of the driveway. I tossed the ice packs off to the side. I needed a shower. Something to flood rejuvenation back through my pulsing muscles.
Anything to get my mind off the shitstorm of my life.
I eased myself out of bed and stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor as my phone continued lighting up in my back pocket. I saw it flashing on the floor. Notification after notification. People wanting me to meet them as soon as possible to pick up the things I was selling. I cast it off to the side, though, as I turned on the water as hot as I could stand it and eased myself underneath the waterfall stream.
“That’s it.”
I groaned as I settled down onto the floor. With my legs outstretched and the water pouring over me, I opened myself up to a stream that hurt before it cleansed. And as I sat there, my mind swirled with so many things.
All the things I had to get done.
I had to get those people their items. Collect my money. Damn it, I still needed to get to the bank. What did Rae do with that money? I had to call her and figure out where it was so I could pick it up. I didn’t want anyone feeling responsible for that kind of money for very long. It came with a heavy burden and a constant paranoia I didn’t want anyone else experiencing. I had to figure out what kind of deal I could strike with Mike’s parents. Because I didn’t want to freeload off them. And with the damage done to the downstairs, I wondered how much free time that bought me to sell off more things.
“Shit.”
The hot water made me feel clean again. But the dirt settled back in the second I turned off the water. I heaved myself off the floor and out of the shower, settling back into a life my father had carved out for me. The dumbass bathroom he’d renovated two years ago for my birthday. Before he left for a month to be anywhere else other than here, celebrating it with me. A bedroom he’d decked out with expensive items, gifts to apologize for every bruise I’d grown up with. This bedroom had become a museum to the pain he’d caused me, the pain I lived with every day. And as I stared at my mahogany bed frame and matching dresser, it made me sick to think about.
“I’m selling it all.”
I wrenched my phone off the floor and started snapping pictures. Then I started responding to those who had already claimed items online. I made appointments for tonight, telling them I’d knock fifteen percent off the price if they met me between eight and ten o’clock on the corner of my street. I watched them respond with fervor, taking me up on my offer and thanking me for this reason or that.