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I can’t get a good look at whoever it is that’s making him so fearful. I only have the back view of the tall dark figure that looms over Bill’s quivering frame.
“The kid… you’re taking good care of him?” the stranger asks Bill, with no tolerance in his tone. I shift my angle to try and get a better look but all I can see are black jeans and a black hooded top.
“Of… Of course. He’s settled in real good,” Bill’s voice rattles with fear, it sounds strange, and I make a mental note to remember this moment the next time he clouts me.
“And the other kids? They give him any shit?” The man questions, leaning forward and resting his hand on the table in front of Bill.
“No. Never, we’re one big happy family here,” Bill proves that he can still be a good liar, even under pressure. “The older boys have taken him right under their wings.”
The stranger relaxes slightly, easing back and reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. A heavy thud on the table has Bill licking his lips greedily, and when the stranger shifts his hand out of the way I see the brown envelope that he’s put down.
“I’ve seen the kid, he looks a wreck. You send him to school dressed like that, he’ll be a walking target. Hook him up with clothes. Decent shit, not thrift store crap. Make sure he gets everything he needs.”
Bill’s greedy fingers reach out to snatch at the envelope, his head nodding back enthusiastically, and my whole body jolts when the stranger’s hand suddenly slams over Bill’s. Grippinghis fingers and crushing them awkwardly in his fist. Bill moans out in agony, and the man’s free hand wraps around his throat forcing him silent.
The gurgling sounds have me shifting my position to get a better look, and I can’t help smile when I see his petrified eyes bulging out from their sockets.
“I got eyes on you, Billy boy. The money is for the kid. You got that?”
Bill nods back like a pet monkey, gasping loudly when he’s released and holding on to the edge of the table while he struggles to catch his breath.
“Of course… Understood Mr… um,sorry I didn’t catch your name.”
“I never fucking told you,” the guy bites back, already making his way towards the door.
“Wait. You could see the kid if you wanted?” Bill calls after him, and his suggestion makes the stranger stop in his tracks, but he still doesn’t turn around.
“You seem concerned about the boy's welfare. I know there are rules about visits, but I could make an exception, bring him in so you can see him. He’ll be right outside playing with the others.”
It’s funny seeing Bill like this, a groveling creep ass, desperate to get on the good side of a man he’s scared of.
“The kid’s better off without me,” is the last thing he mutters before leaving. And I swear I sense a little sadness in his rough tone.
Bill waits until the front door slams before tearing open the envelope and flicking his thumb through the impressive wad of notes. The chuckle he gives to himself suggests whoever the money was intended for won’t be seeing it anytime soon.
“Heidi, wake up,” he bellows. “Lazy fucking bitch,” he mutters under his breath when she fails to respond. Getting up from the table, he takes the money with him.
I use the opportunity to bundle my wet sheets into the dryer, then I rush out of the laundry room, through the back door to join the others in the yard. I’m lucky I didn’t get caught, I’d be in a whole heap of shit if Bill caught me listening.
Sneaking down the side of the house, I manage to make it to the front yard unscathed and take a seat on the broken bench. Picking up a stick, I scratch it into the crumbly earth around my feet and I can’t help wondering who that man could have been. More importantly who had he come here for? Stupid as it sounds, I’m actually jealous of whoever it is. Doesn't matter that the guy was scary as hell.
“Hey, shit stain…” Toby calls at me from the other side of the yard. “You wanna play dodgeball?”
Knowing what that involves, I ignore him, moving out of their way and taking my stick with me. Their ball bounces off the back of my head, and I ignore that too. I take a few more hits from the ball to different parts of my body, and when they don’t get the reaction they want from me, they start to use stones instead.
The boys laugh and call out all the same insults I’ve heard from them before, and I blank them out along with the hard stones that pelt against the backs of my legs.
I find shade under a tree, sitting down and restingmy back against its trunk, they’ll get bored eventually. Find a bug or stray cat that they can make suffer instead.
Closing my eyes to block them out, I try to imagine being somewhere else. I work my head until it throbs trying to remember what my life was like before all of this. But it’s empty. I’ve been in the system for as long as I can remember.
A loud rumble from the other side of the street rings through my ears. The vibration, deep enough to rattle my ribcage, and when I open my eyes I catch sight of the motorcycle before it takes off. I only manage to get a back view of the rider, who’s dressed all in black, it’s the stranger from the kitchen. Only difference is, now he’s wearing a vest over his hoodie, a leather one that has a hooded skull sewn into the back, and D.I.R.T.Y S.O.U.L.S M.C. arched over the top of it.
His bike is by far the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. I want one just like it, one that I could ride right out of this hellhole on.
Later that night, while all the boys scrap over who gets the remote for the TV, I draw from memory what I’d seen on the back of the rider’s vest. Then, when we’re sent to bed, I tuck the drawing inside my pillowcase so no one else will find it.
I’ve never been much of a sleeper, I learned from an early age to always be on guard. You never can be too sure when your next strike is coming and around these bunch of morons, I can guarantee there’s always one right around the corner.
