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Not wanting to look at his face and hear him spit anymore of his shit. I storm out of the bedroom in a fit of rage down the stairs. I find Tyler talking to a brunette with his arm resting above her head, lost in conversation. His eyes lift when he spots me.
“Hey, I was looking for you. Abby said she saw you when you arrived.”
The brunette gives me an eye roll, probably hearing more rumors about me that I’m a poor orphan trying to destroy Tyler’s perfect life, and that I’m a thief trying to get a free ride.
I ignore her and grab Tyler by the arm. “Hey, chill out, we were talking.”
I angle my head and curl my lip in a snarl. “Sorry, bitch. I have to get home, and he is my ride. You know…I have this thing called probation and I have to be home.” She glances at Tyler to see what he will say, or if he will tell me to get lost, but his mouth turns into a grimace and he shoots me a guilty expression because he was the one who started the rumors about me when I first arrived at Westlake Prep. I should have let Patrick take me home since he backed out of going in when he saw how many people were here. I think he was afraid of what people would do or say if we showed up together, but I told Abby I would show up.
“Let’s go,” he says quietly, and we walk out while the brunette gives me a glare.
I don’t even care what they say about me anymore or what they think. It doesn’t define me. I still have two hours before my curfew to be home, but I need to get out of here before Ky comes out with the two skanks he was with upstairs. He is probably going at it with them after I left. I’ve had enough of his humiliation for one night. I need to be alone. In my closet so I can cry and wallow in self-pity over a guy who doesn’t care about me.
Just like my mother did.
Rubi
I WALK INSIDEthe house trying to tip-toe around my mother. She is sprawled on the couch lying on her side. Her eyes are like saucers. They remind me of a cat’s eyes when their pupils dilate. I remember watching the stray cat Moe’s pupil dilate when my stepfather would come out. They received money in the mail, and they said it was because my mother applied for help from the state, and she had a kid, so she was supposed to get free money. My mom said I was good for something because my real father didn’t want me. She said I should be grateful that she kept me and didn’t abort me. She would tell me that all the time. When I tried to leave and thought I could do it on my own one night after they smoked that stuff and passed out. I left the whole day and came back that same night when I was hungry and couldn’t get food. Especially, when I would get funny looks from people, and I was scared of homeless people who would talk to themselves causing me to run the whole way home.
I saw my stepfather’s truck in the driveway, and I’m hoping he is in the room passed out from whatever he took or smoked. The water was cut off today. I had to get my water bottle and fill it so I can brush my teeth and wash the best I could. It happens every two months when they forget to pay the bill and it gets shut off. So I’m used to this routine.
I’m tip-toeing to my room, and when I push the door open, my hope that he didn’t notice me gone is short lived. He is sitting with his stained tank top from working at Lou’s mechanic shop. He smells like death, beer and that stuff he smokes. It makes him angry and mean.
My hands begin to tremble because I know what is to come. The last time was three days ago, and the fresh wounds on my back were finally not stinging as much.
“Where were you, brat?”
I swallow and he can see it in my eyes. He knows I went to visit Ky. He can probably tell from the fresh dirt stains on my jeans from kneeling on the grass. Ky was showing me how he learned to plant flowers today. I stay silent hoping his mind will move on to something else like he does sometimes. Just…sometimes. Today, I’m not so lucky. I can see it. I can smell it. He wants to hurt me for whatever reason. He says it’s because I go visit Ky. I made the mistake and blurted it out. It is my biggest regret. A regret I must pay for every time. But I keep going to see him.
“You went to see that boy again, didn’tcha? You sneakin’ behind me and your mother’s back, you little tramp,” he snarls, saliva sputtering out of his mouth.
His eyes, red rimmed, look like an owl. He is on the bad stuff. The stuff that smells like death when he exhales it into the air. I cover my nose and run to hide in the closet so he can’t find me when he turns around after his eyes roll back inside his skull. Or so they can’t find me.
The others who come here to do the same.
He has a brown leather whip in his hand. The same kind I remember seeing in my history book at school. The teacher said it was called a bullwhip. I recognized the color and the shape, except the one he used was smaller, and he started using it after I threw away all the belts in the house. My stepfather blames his other friends for stealing them. I won’t tell him any different.
“You know the drill. You go see that boy and you pay the price. Being a little whore will cost ya, brat.”
I kneel on the stained carpet with burn holes that hurt my feet if I’m barefoot.
“Take off your shirt, Rubi. Turn around and kneel.”
I do as he asks because it will only be two hits instead of five if I do as he says. He only uses the whip when I go see Ky. The other times he uses his hand or just pulls my hair.
I kneel after I take off my shirt and cross my arms over my chest and close my eyes shut. Wack! The sting burns and then gets really hot like a fire is spreading in its wake across my skin.
Wack! My tears leak and I take it. I take it because he will think I learned my lesson and leave me alone. The throbbing pain causes a sob to escape my throat and my bottom lip to tremble. My hands start to shake from the pain. It hurts so bad. The tears keep falling down my cheeks. I feel something like a rain drop slide down my back. The second hit always draws blood. My mother and stepfather do not allow me to have friends. I don’t why. When I ask, they scream at me and tell me it’s because they said so, and then they shove me inside my room and close the door.
But the marks that are left are marks I will bear for him. A mark I will take because it allows me another day to see my best friend. The only one who talks to me and makes me feel wanted. He is the brightest part of my day, and the only one who can make me smile. I’ll keep taking the punishment because Ky is worth it. He is my everything.
I jolt and my eyes pop open when I feel a warm ball of fur near my cheek purring. I snuggle my head against Hope, but then I look down at my long t-shirt and notice I’m on the bed again. Hope stretches his paws, and then I hear something jingle when he moves. I pet his head and pinch my eyebrows when I feel a collar with a bell around his neck.
“How did you get this, huh? Who did you let place a collar around your neck?”
I wonder how he got it? Hope is not friendly with everyone, and he doesn’t’ like anything on him. He’s always in my room waiting for me until I get home. I talk to him when I’m feeling sad, and before I go to sleep. Sometimes I wish he talked back, but sometimes you just want to be heard. Not to be judged or told you don’t belong, or that no one wants you. Just someone…to listen.
I don’t know why I keep waking up in the bed when I fall asleep in the closet. It has happened two or three times a week for a while now. That’s a worry for another day, I guess. So I get up from the bed and freshen up in the bathroom to head downstairs for breakfast. It’s Saturday, and usually Stephen and Caroline go out shopping.
