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I punch my bed, trying to get the visual of him pouring scorching liquefied metal onto a man’s face out of my head. Isn’t it rude to drag a civilian into this? Isn’t that what you punished the Russian for, Castor?
My emotions run haywire, because just this morning I was expecting a date as my present. Some small token celebration that I don’t have to be sniped by a Russian hitman.
Now I’m back to square one, alone, traumatized, with nothing to look forward to.
At least I’m free, I guess.
A few hours go by where I decompress by revisiting a painting I left unfinished. For some fairly obvious reason, my inspiration is off. Sunshine and rainbows aren’t quite cutting it today. I find myself painting a loose-lined portrait of a man in a leather jacket – face blurry – streaks of red over his chest. It’s like I’m pushing the dark images out of my mind and into the world in hopes for some relief.
It’s therapeutic, I guess. But I wind up crumpling the paper and tossing it behind the couch.
New Girl, Friends, How I Met Your Mother, all my comfort TV just makes the pit in my stomach grow that much more.
Time to leave the house, I decide. I’m already in my uniform, so I just grab the keys and go. I notice hesitation in my step once I get outside. My body is reacting from the last time I took this path – I could’ve been raped.
Just keep moving.
I think of lighter things as I get into my car unscathed. My thoughts go to the ‘G’ pin Castor bought me, now pinned to the inside of my skirt. I don’t want to remove it, because, well, I still love the present. Looking at it whenever I feel down makes me squirm like a schoolgirl. Pulling back the elastic of my skirt to trace my thumb against the rose, my heart now aches. What started as a mere lust-filled waking dream, has blossomed into something so much more.
The screams of that man echo in my mind, and I push it all away – I can’t right now.
Tonight will be fine. I’ll throw some shade at men trying to get a look up my skirt and earn some tips even though my rent is paid for because of the rest of that sleeve of gold I still have. I just have to get it exchanged…
I’m walking toward the corner of Willets, where Bingo Bango’s huge awning stretches down the block. People are laughing and drinking inside – I can tell through the darkened huge windows. It’ll be a good night—
“Ah!”
A strong hand wraps around my arm, and I immediately start flailing.
“Cut it out!” My brother’s dilated eyes make him look inhuman. His finger is in my face as he pushes me flat against the wall, across the street from Bangos. “Where the fuck have you been, huh? You scared the hell out of me.”
I swing out of his grasp and slap him hard across the face. “No!” I point back inches from his nose like our mother used to. “You do not have permission to walk back into my life, Marco. Fuck off. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear from you, I don’t want to know you.”
I’m unhinged, but seriously, my body can’t take anymore jump scares.
He backs off a bit and sniffs, wiping his nose like he just took a line. “Where you been, Gia?” he says evenly, which makes him all the more frightening.
I don’t back down. “None of your business.”
“You don’t tell work? You just flee? Not like you. Speak up,” he demands.
“What, you run your little events in the restaurant I work at, and you think you can snoop around and ask my boss questions?” I get in his face. “I don’t care if you mean well, Marco. This is not how life is going to continue. If I see you again, I’m moving out of state. Found a nice little place on my trip.” I smile facetiously at him. “Then you can tell Mom why I’m running from where we grew up.”
He puckers his lips and pulls out a cigarette. “I don’t like what’s going on.” He inhales sharply. So much nervous energy.
“What’s going on, Marco? What could possibly be so horrible that makes you snatch me on my way to work?”
“Can’t explain it. Everyone is acting off.”
“Yeah, because you’re snorting double the amount you normally do. Your nose is bright red, dude. What the hell are you doing?” I reach for his chin to better inspect him, but he slaps me away.
“Nah. You, even Ace is standoffish. Castor seems off his game. Ratchet doesn’t have time to party. Mom’s still dating that oaf. The world’s spinning backwards.”
“Don’t drag me into your insanity. Cut me off the list and go do whatever it is you like to do!” I yell.
“I’m your brother.”
“Don’t care. I’ll talk to you when you’re clean. So I guess that’ll be… never. Goodbye, Marco!”
