Last month, after getting fired from the only construction company within fifty miles willing to give him a chance, Clint found a job as a long distance truck driver. Best fucking job ever, and I’m counting down the days until he leaves again.
I take a step forward to walk around Clint’s large frame and go to my room. He extends his arm, pushing me back that step and then some. “Where’s this week’s rent money?”
I grit my teeth and dig into my back pocket for my wallet. Mom doesn’t know I pay seventy-five dollars a week to live in this shithole. I could take the three-hundred a month and find myself an efficiency in one of the apartment complexes a few blocks over, but that would leave her alone with this monster. A day or two is fine, but if I’m gone too much more, he gets lazy and doesn’t care where he hits her. The last time they kicked me out, it took four days before Mom had a black eye. She, of course, refused to press charges so there wasn’t much I could do.
I pull the tips I’ve been saving the past three days out and hand the cash over. Clint smirks and turns his back to me without so much as a thank you. I wait until he’s planted himself into his chair, so worn that it molds to his body, before moving. After a solid minute, I shut myself in my room.
I turn the handle lock, my deadbolt, and then slide the chain into its holder on the door. One day I’m going to get out of this shithole town and take Mom with me.
Glass shatters in the kitchen, jolting me awake before my alarms go off. I sit upright, waiting, wondering if I’d dreamed it. A moment later something else breaks and Mom screams. I throw my blanket off and run across the room. My fingers brush across the locks, opening each one in less than a second.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins when I see Clint bent over my mother in the kitchen. I fist the back of his shirt as he draws back to hit Mom again and he elbows me in the face. I ignore the pain radiating from my eye, down my cheek, and throw Clint into the living room. He crashes against the recliner, knocking it on its side.
I turn to face him, squaring my shoulders, ready to fight. I’ve waited years to kick Clint’s ass. He’s the scum of the earth. The gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why my mother is still with the guy.
Mom rushes past me to be at his side. She places her hands on him, like he’s a hurt child, assessing him for bumps and bruises. Clint presses his palm against Mom’s chest and shoves her aside. “Get off me, woman.”
“I swear to god, Clint, if you touch my mamma like that again, I’ll fucking kill you.” I ball my fists, ready for an attack. All I need is for him to purposely strike first. Then, when he calls the cops, I can claim everything was self-defense. He hurt Mom and attacked me. I’ll press charges and he’ll get locked up for domestic abuse for a few weeks. That’ll be enough time to convince Mom to move and that we don’t need Clint sucking the life out of us.
Clint stares me down. “What did you say, boy?”
Mom steps between us, her arms out wide. “Enough!”
“Get out of the way, Mom.”
“No.” She looks at me, one eye swollen shut and turning purple. I hate seeing her like this. Broken and beaten down. My mother is a shell of the woman she used to be because of this man. “You have school. Go before you’re late.”
“Mom!” I glare at her in disbelief. She can’t be serious. I can’t leave her alone with this monster. What if he hurts her again? What would happen if I’m not here to stop him? “You can’t be serious.”
Mom turns and cradles my cheeks in her hands. This close, I can see every tired line on her face. The purple hue spreading further down her cheek. Most importantly, I see her love, and it kills me. “You’ll never get out of here if you don’t go to school. I don’t want this life for you.”
I close my eyes, my shoulders hunching forward in defeat. I’ve heard the story my whole life, how if she had gone to college, things would have been different. How I’m her second chance. I would happily go to jail if it meant Clint would be out of our lives forever, but I know Mom. She would find a way to blame herself and fall back into depression. This last round nearly killed her. As much as I don’t want to leave, I don’t want her slipping down that slope again.
I open my eyes and stare into her tired browns. I don’t look anything like her. All of my features, except for my nose, belong to Derek. I know it kills her to look at me, to live with a reminder of every mistake she’s ever made, but she tries hard to hide the pain. “Okay, Mom. I’ll go, but if he touches you, you call me.”
She smiles, wordlessly telling me that she’ll be alright. A lie neither of us believe, but we pretend to, for each other.
The beach is my second home. The dugout underneath the boardwalk, my hidden bed. I learned a long time ago that my mother was always going to choose her boyfriend over me. I was twelve the first time she told me to find somewhere else t
o stay. On our side of the tracks, I knew better than to ask someone if I could sleep on their couch. Favors asked mean favors given, and I don’t want to owe anybody anything over there. I already took a debt out with Bane McCarron once to help my neighbor, but he warned me. My next favor won’t be as cheap, and getting rid of Clint isn’t as easy as calling him, or I would have done it already.
I’m deep under the wooden planks, hidden behind a mound of sand I built to shield me from prying eyes. There aren’t a lot of homeless people on this side of town. Someone sleeping out in the open would attract attention, but it's the safest place I've found. Unfortunately, even with all of my precautions in place, someone saw me crawl into my hideaway tonight and reported me. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the bright light assaulting them.
“You can’t be here,” an authoritative voice says. Six years of sleeping in my hole, and now I get caught, when I’m eighteen and can be brought in. Figures.
I yawn, trying to catch a glimpse at my watch, and hold up my hands. I’m not a threat, just a tired kid with nowhere to go, and I want this guy to know as much. “I’m leaving.”
I crawl out of my hole and slide down the sandy slope. The only thing I have with me is my helmet. My jacket is tucked into the compartment under the seat of my bike and it is parked in the Horizon Hotel’s parking lot. I don’t have to worry about someone stealing it there because they have security.
The officer tilts his light out of my face and down to my waist. “How old are you?”
I stare at the sand, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When I can see again, I look up at him and say, “Eighteen.”
“Fuck,” the cop mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair then sets it on his hip. The man is quiet for a few minutes, probably deciding whether to fine me, bring me in, or let me go. I hope it’s the latter. I can’t afford the fine or bail, but a decent bed and breakfast would be nice.
A giggling couple walks past. I watch, in awe, as they cuddle against each other then ascend the wooden stairs. I’ve never had that. The few girls I’ve taken to bed I know by name, and there aren’t as many as Ellie thinks. My reputation came about because of bruised egos and my lack of give-a-fucks. Just because a girl claims to have slept with me doesn’t make it true. As for the seven ladies I have been with, they’re in the same situation as me. Stuck. No wanting to drag anyone down with them and using a warm body to forget their problems for a night. These past few weeks with Ellie is the closest I’ve ever been to a normal relationship, and all we’ve done is lie to the world.
“What are you doing out here?” the cop asks, his tone a little lighter.