AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She stomps her foot, voice shifting to a raging storm. “It is not the truth. I’m always looking out for her. I rescued her from the hospital and brought her here, didn’t I? Otherwise, she’d be right back at home getting abused and yelled at for being herself. I’m risking everything to help because she deserves that. I know I owe her my life, you fucking prick, and if she wants to go fuck some pothead from a coffee shop, I will happily guide her to his dick.” Her body is shaking as she fights tears. “You don’t get to tell me I’m not looking out for her. Not when you weren’t there for me.”
I move to the kitchen, ready to defend myself, but I can’t. She’s right. I wasn’t there. Last year, she begged me to stay with her around the anniversary, but I was too focused on my spot at a national bodybuilding competition. I had never qualified before, and I was too lost in my own world to recognize Amber’s cry for help. If Paige hadn’t found her, I wouldn’t have a little sister anymore.
I shouldn’t push her, but I can’t stop myself. Words are clawing at my throat. I don’t want to think about Paige with some asshole. I don’t want to think about my sister dead. Because right now, I feel useless to both of them.
I jab a finger at her. “I didn’t fuck up your life. You did. I’ve done everything for you. I practically raised you, for fuck’s sake. I gave you money for college classes—which you dropped—and I paid all those lawyer bills to keep you out of prison. I don’t know how many times I helped you move when you picked fights with boyfriends. You’re living under my fucking roof. I messed up one time. One. So tell me again how I’m not there for you every other goddamn time you fuck up.”
“Stop it,” she screams. “You asshole. You weren’t there for me. I begged you. I said, ‘Please don’t leave. I need you.’ And you fucking went on a trip.” She wipes at the flood of tears streaming down her cheeks and stomps down the hallway. She returns a moment later with shoes on, purse in hand. “I’m leaving. Maybe I won’t come back.”
“You better fucking come back. I made one mistake last year, but I’m not making it again. No fucking way am I letting you move out where I can’t keep an eye on you.”
She grabs a six-pack of beer from the fridge and walks to the front door. “Yeah? Let’s see you keep an eye on me tonight, dick for brains.” The front door slams behind her.
My arm muscles tense, but I stop myself from punching a hole in the wall. I did that once and don’t feel like paying the repair bill. Instead, I storm to the backyard where an old, saggy punching bag hangs from the tree. I pound it until my fists throb.
Frank, our neighbor and Vietnam veteran, is outside sitting on his porch, cleaning one of his rifles. He waves a sun-damaged hand at me. “Saw Amber and that other lady leave,” he calls out. “Woman trouble?”
“You could say that.” I pound the bag again.
I’m ready to puke. I said too much. Pushed Amber too far. I wish she would understand my side for once. Like I want my little sister hurt? I wish she could understand the years of worry and panic I’ve been through while she lives her life as if trying to die.
And what the fuck is all this about rescuing Paige from the hospital? Did they not go to the police? I don’t know what’s going on. I never do when it concerns Amber, and that pisses me off more than anything. I need to know what’s happening so I can help.
It’s decided then. I’m getting Paige’s number later for future emergencies. That way, I can make sure she’s safe. Just as a courtesy since she’s Amber’s friend. Two women now live under my roof, so that’s two women I’ll be looking out for.
Amber better come back. Soon.
With my fists sore and bruised, I text Miguel that I can’t make it to the club. I’m not in the mood, no matter how masterful Lotus’ tits are.
Lame, Miguel responds. Guess more lap dances for me and Troy.
Crap. Completely forgot about mentioning Troy to Amber and Paige.
I know, I text back.
It’s going to be a long, tense night.
Chapter Five
Paige
“WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE,” Rings—uh, Josh—says, top knot balancing precariously on his head. He’s got a different eyebrow ring today. This one is gold. But I need to stop calling him Rings. It just sounds cooler.
The inside of his duplex is unlike anything I’ve seen, mostly because I’ve been to very few places. Empty beer cans, crumpled chip bags, small wooden boxes, glass pipes, and tall bongs clutter the floor and a coffee table. The wallpaper is a dizzying pixilated pattern, like an image from the old Magic Eye books I loved in my teens. I spent hours flipping through them until my eyes crossed. They’re fun to pass the time, but no one with any sense should use that for wallpaper.
As my brain tries to process the clutter and psychedelic walls, a haze hits me, the kind that fills the air when a pan on the stove burns. It smells like…farts? People say weed smells like skunk, but I’ve never smelled a skunk, so I can only say it smells like farts. Like if a leaf farted, that’s what it smells like. The air is so thick with the haze, I’m probably getting high just standing here.
“Hey, have a seat,” Josh says, pointing to a beanbag next to a couch occupied by two men wearing hoodies. “I’ll get us drinks.”
I grip my purse, squeezing it against my stomach. I already feel sick, but that’s normal. New environments always cause this. My whole body aches, and I feel nauseous and hot. It’s like the flu—a deep, burning sickness that fills my insides and won’t go away until I leave. But I can manage the sickness a few hours—manage all the new sensory input—and then recover later. Once I’m out of this place and back to somewhere familiar, the flu will pass.
Focus on the goal. Sex, sex, sex. Sh-ex.
Flashing a smile at the hooded men, I sink down into the beanbag. And down. And down. It’s so worn that my butt is mere inches from the floor.
“Hey,” one man says with a lazy head nod, eyes glued to the TV as he mashes buttons on a game controller. His hoodie is pulled up, white face glowing from the screen. He looks like a ghostly Green Arrow.
I get lost in the colorful, scrambled wallpaper behind his head. It makes the flu inside me worse.
