Note from Author: Yay! I am finally updating this. I just have too many
ideas for this not too. I just realized, that this story will be incredibly
long. Sigh. Just stick with me, now because I'm warning you that it will
not have a shard of fluff in it in any way, shape, or form. Drama and angst
rule here. Please read and review and enjoy..
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Lux, I KNOW it hurts.please stop grimacing like that. Lux, please, just bite down on the spoon, Lux.OWH! Damn you Luxy! Mama, I cannot do this! She tried to bite me! Honest to God the little brat tried to bite me! Well, those ugly stitches can adorn her face until she is dead and rotting and I wouldn't care!"
An animal. An animal could describe what Luxy Listin felt parallel to on that blistering scorching Saturday morning which marked the first day of summer as she sat on a rickety stool that lurched to the right, knees spread, eyes squinted shut, body slick with perspiration, teeth clamped down hard on her mother's wooden spoon.
At first, she fancied herself a horse. A horse that had just gotten over an injury and was getting the stitches removed. The spoon her mother gave her to bite down on for the pain was the bit, a bit, which Lynn kept jamming back further into her jaw so much that it first caused a dull aching sensation which was now throbbing pangs of agony.
She knew the stitches had to come out. The stitches closed the atrocious gash that had been a souvenir of her encounter with Mr. Antonelli. When Benji had brought her home that day, Nathalie Listin had turned milky white, clasped a hand to her chest, and hovered over her child, spitting out frantic French as she ran her hand over Luxy's gash, blood staining her once fair hands.
Luxy had remained in a motionless, rarely blinking stupor even through the twilight when all her family gathered. Tony Listin had gone off, bellowing deep oaths in his native tongue. Nathalie Listin had battled him in the sharp pitter-patter of her language. Her siblings had stood motionless, silent, worried over their sister who had remained slumped on some old cushions and wrapped in a moth-eaten blanket, her eyes glassy and with dried blood clinging to her face.
The conclusion reached between the majority was that that "goddamn Conlon boy next door" had done it to her. Her father told her that it served her right for hanging out with him like a little slut and that he was bound to turn in to a wife beater like his daddy. Her mother flitted about, nodding her head and agreeing readily. That Luxy had behaved like a boy all her life too much and that it wasn't proper for a lady of such caliber to be hanging about the likes of such riff raff.
Though those around her were oblivious to it, Luxy's mind had been quite intact that night. True, she had been quite mad and delirious after being violated and threatened by the tenant above her, but she almost had to bite her tongue and restrain herself with all her soul from bursting out and calling her parents insane, her father a bastard, and her mother a prissy bitch.
What an audacious thought to think that Benji had given her the gash. True, he had given her the fantastic bruise on her right cheek, but she was the only thing on earth, save his mother, that he loved. Incredulous notions to think that Benji would inherit his father's ruthless habits towards women, a man who he loathed. But behaving un-lady like? She, a lady of caliber and Benji riff raff?
At this moment, Nathalie Listin was now occupying the space that Lynn had earlier. Taking Luxy's chin in her right hand, she sharply jerked it towards her, infuriating Luxy so that she had to sit on her hands so that they did not strike her mother across the face. If Benji was riff raff, then the Listins were riff raff. It was quite insane that her mother think herself still a lady of high caliber. Just because she was in denial that her childhood in France was a pompous one of dapple-gray ponies and parties and that she had married Tony Listin and now worked in an atrocious sweatshop and lived in a rat infested apartment and had to slave to her entire family didn't mean that she could dictate social hierarchy over others.
Luxy shifted her head every so slightly to see that her mother's sharp blue eyes were fixated on the stitches. Her eyebrows raised and her gaze moved to Luxy. "Keep your head straight," her strict accent rang, as she snapped her daughter's head straight.
A heated anger started to form in Luxy's chest, a heat that was not due to the smoldering apartment.
With a sharp pin and her grasp on Luxy's chin tightening, Nathalie slid it under the first stitch and quickly pulled it out.
"OWH!"
Luxy's ear-splitting scream shattered the heat as she sprang off the stool and to her feet, the spoon clattering to the floor. The bitter tears formed in the creases of her eyes as she drew her hand to her cheek.
"Luxy," her mother commanded. "Sit."
She shook her head, backing away. "No, I can't. It hurts too much!"
Nathalie Listin's eyes were filled with disgust and contempt as she bent down and retrieved the wooden spoon from the splintered floor. "Lux Listin," she said, her voice sharp as a razor, "if you don't sit down you'll have another set of stitches on the other side of your face from me striking the spoon against you."
Luxy regarded her mother with bitter, almost childish tears welling in her eyes. "Mama, no it hurts!"
Nathalie's pale blue eyes never lost an iota of their coldness as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Luxy, now."
Luxy's gaze flickered to Lynn and then to her mother. They both stood the same way save Lynn's repulsion was open. "MAMA I CAN'T!" she screamed, slamming her foot against the ground, causing the floorboards to shutter and dust to arise.
Nathalie elicited an audible cry of disgust. "Oh GOD DAMN YOU! Juste comme votre fichu père! Un fichu gosse!" With a flick of the wrist, the hard spoon had connected with Luxy's other cheek, causing the skin to rupture and turn purple immediately, as she burst into hysterical sobs.
With a sharp motion, Nathalie had pushed Luxy onto the stool. "Lynn, hold her arms."
Lynn rolled her eyes and reluctantly stood behind Luxy, binding her wrists together in a pleasing grip of iron. Nathalie had abruptly raised one foot and had removed her shoe, letting it clatter to the floor, as she only needed a sock. She thrust the sweaty, disgusting garment into Luxy's mouth, causing the latter to launch into a severe gagging spell.
Nathalie ignored as Luxy went in to convulsions, only pressing her legs tight against her daughter's so they would not flail about. "Hold her tight," she said frigidly, Lynn nodding, as she began the task of plucking the stitches out, one by horrifying one.
If there was such thing as Hell, then Luxy was there. The taste of the unwelcome garment saturated into her mouth leaving an absolutely disgusting aftertaste and the agonizing, excruciating pain of the homemade stitches was impossible to bear. She only saved herself from fainting by steadily focusing on Benji's ratty, makeshift bed that lay on the other side of the kitchen.
She did not know how long she sat on that stool in that uncompromising position, the scorching sun boring down on her when she finally felt the sock being plucked from her mouth and the grip on her wrists fall lax.
"There," Nathalie Listin said condescendingly and stepping back, as though admiring her work, "it wasn't that bad, now was it? You just have to go and make a speck of rain a thunder storm."
"I absolutely agree," Lynn snarled, crossing her arms. "You whine and snivel over nothing, Luxy--"
Her words were cut short as Luxy spat in her face in abhorrence. She stepped back, her features twisted into revilement. "You-you little whore!" she screamed, her gaze insane. "Mama, look what she did!"
Luxy's eyes were narrowed in hatred as she rose from the stool, causing it to clatter to the floor. "Me the whore? Julie was the whore and ever since she ran away you've jist wanted to take her place: the bitch of the family!" Lynn's eyes widened as she brought a hand to her mouth in an exaggerated gasp. "You-you-you-you. Mama, look what she's saying! How can you let her say that? How can you?" Charlatan tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Luxy averted her gaze to her mother, who only stood, her hawk-like features slick with perspiration. "Show your sister some respect," she stated frostily.
Luxy narrowed her eyes. "Why should I, Mama? She don't show me no respect-- "
Nathalie interrupted her. "Because I am your mother and by offending your sister you offend me. Your attitude is disgusting. You should be on your hands and knees thanking me for winning over your father by allowing that, that heathen to stay here--"
"HE IS NOT A HEATHEN!" Luxy screamed in a voice as sharp as glass, causing the heat to waver.
Nathalie raised a brow, her eyes still bitterly biting. "I may and will call him whatever I like while he is staying under this roof--"
Luxy's gaze was absolutely burning. "Go to hell. Go to hell both of you!" she shouted hoarsely before she spun abruptly about face and picked up her heels, thrusting herself through the door and down the moaning steps of the ancient tenement building.
She halted only once she was outside on the walk, where she was forced to bend over and place her palms on her thighs. The heat covered everything like a shroud. It was perhaps even worse that last summer.
Once she regained her breath, she straightened, her body coated in a layer of perspiration, as she strode on, her mother's sharp cries floating out the open window and following after her. Yet, she ignored them, gathering her long strands of raven hair upon her head. She did the only thing she knew possible to keep it off her neck: she messily divided the hair and tied it like a bow upon her pate.
Luxy only glanced over her shoulder at the burned out shell of the apartment building neighbor to hers. Waves of sadness and sympathy washed over her as her eyes fell to the old room on the third floor and to the left, the one that was left scarred the most by the inferno. She wondered if Benji was in there. He seemed to go there a lot, like he was trapped in a cocoon of memories that he could just not let go. He sometimes skipped going to the factory and would sit there all day, amongst the heap of black ashes, in the corner, a blank, depressed look etched upon his features. The only problem with this was the factory docked what little pay they offered for the days he missed.
Abruptly, her gaze shifted from the Conlon's former apartment to the room above the Listin apartment.
A marvelous chill worked its way down Luxy's spine, taking its time. It was Mr. Antonelli's apartment. She had almost forgotten about him. Almost forgotten the hideous depths of his black stare. Almost forgotten their encounter and his chilling threat.
Immediately, the picked up her place. Although she never saw his physical being, she seemed to see his terrifying eyes everywhere; they haunted her dreams constantly.
The Italian district was amazingly alive that day, despite the sweltering rushes of heat. Children dashed about the streets and sidewalks, playing miscellaneous games, the hub of all the excitement being The Park. There were fewer adult men to be seen for the majority of them were slaving away in the factory. The woman were more numerous, for some stood on the stoops of the tenement houses exchanging the latest gossip or just were hanging out the laundry.
Luxy allowed her feet to carry her through the waves of humidity and the children's shrieks and the murmurs laced with Italian. Soon, she was stripping layers of her clothing off. Nathalie had wanted her to accept the fact that she was maturing into a woman and had tempted her into wearing an incredibly tattered, hand me down pink dress that used to be Julie's. The dress was soon behind her, in a heap on the sidewalk, as she strode on, wearing just underpants and a undershirt as the majority of the children did on breathless summer days.
She knew her mother would have a fit if she saw Luxy walking about with out any outer-garments on. She had been trying futilely to get Luxy to wear a brassiere for her ever-developing body. Yet, she didn't give a damn if she developed knockers as large as Mrs. Pepper's had been. She silently promised herself that she would never mature.
It may have been on part of the smoldering heat or the fact that Luxy Listin just didn't desire to think about her horrid family life, Benji's strife, or her own ordeal with Mr. Antonelli, for she allowed her gaze to wander about and her feet to carry her in a state of oblivion. It was only when she forcefully slammed into a pedestrian that she was reeled back to reality, and after she murmured a reply, she took in the humidity and the scalding sidewalk and the unfamiliar buildings glaring in the sunlight.
"Oh, shit," she mumbled under her breath, whirling about in slow circles, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "This ain't the Italian district no more."
She had become drunk by the heat, yet she felt no true trepidation like she had before. This time she knew where Benji was located-he was in the factory.
Luxy instead crossed the street, taking in the atmosphere and feeling something that she could not quite pinpoint. It was a severe case of deja- vous, as though she had been here before-
And then it occurred to her as though it were a revelation.
"I knew I've been here before," she said, as she peered about, the last piece falling into place. Her eyes widened and she broke out into a run.
Luxy stopped only when she saw the building, the ancient red bricks weary in the bright light. She broke into a broad smile as she dashed to the entrance, tugging on the handle, and pushing the door open.
The overpowering scent of lavender invaded her nostrils, slowly seeping into her brain and causing her to feel drowsy. She entered the threshold, padding across a soft plush carpet, her eyes peering to a set of winding stairs. The internals of the building seemed somehow isolated from the ungodly humidity that reigned outside, despite the intoxicating, heavy scent.
Her gaze wandered about, taking in the ostentatious décor and she was about to pad up the maroon-carpeted stairs when a melodic French accent filled her ears. "Excuse, me, zittle goil. But where do you zink zat you are going?"
Luxy averted her eyes to view a beautiful woman entering through a doorway. In Luxy Listin's eyes she was tall and grand, dressed in a rippling blue and cream colored dress. Her ebony hair was piled on her crown and her features were accented by heavy cosmetics. And she possessed such a beautiful voice, a voice as sharp and clear as a bell, not like her mother's rough accent.
Luxy regarded the woman, an eyebrow raised as she involuntarily pointed to the stairs. "Uh, I was here before--"
The woman crossed her arms over her ample chest. "You whir here before?" she intoned, her pale blue eyes glimmering.
"No, not as a customer--" Luxy halted as the woman loosened her arms and released a tinkling laugh. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nuhzing," the woman replied, her lips pulled back in a smile. "It'z just what you said, it sounded funny."
"Oh," Luxy replied, somewhat unsure of herself.
The woman crossed the room, her eyes alight and her dimples prominent. She stopped in front of Luxy and bent down. Luxy was taken aback by the woman's large bosom yet quickly averted her eyes to the woman's.
"What iz your name?"
"Luxy?"
"Well, Luxy," the woman replied, straightening, "Arh you here to see someone?"
Luxy nodded. "Yeah. Rose."
The French woman stepped back, placing her index finger to her temple. "AH! You are joost in luck for Rose is in right now. You can go up and see her."
Luxy turned and proceeded to the stairs, placing a leg on one before she glanced over her shoulder to see the marvelous woman swishing out of the room, her dress ruffling behind her. She once again turned and continued up the stairs, reaching the second floor, the scent even more oppressing, causing dreamy swirls to circulate through her mind as slumber hung heavily upon her eyelids. She took her chances by turning left and strolling down a dim hallway, her weight creaking upon the floorboards and the sounds of moans and slight screams and springs being murdered. She reached the end of the hall and espied a door that was covered in a layer of pale purple paint. She halted in front of the door, inhaling, and softly wrapped upon it. She waited for an answer, and one was granted to her as a hoarse female voice replied, "Yeah, jist a minute."
Luxy stood waiting, a good five minutes, shifting her weight from foot to foot and cocking her head from side to side and glancing about the hallway. She drew her attention to the door when a click was finally heard and the door was cracked open.
A rather tall man in tails had his hand poised on the knob, and his gaze fixated inside the room. His face was slick with perspiration and red and a pleased grin played upon his lips. "Hey, thanks a lot, Rose."
"Anytime, Will," Rose Danson's hurried voice came from inside the room.
He nodded into the room and turned, almost jumping as he saw Luxy. Yet, he smiled down at her, some how a disgusting smile as though he were a crooked character. His dark eyes bore into hers as he nodded at her. "All yours, kid."
Luxy snapped her head down the hallway to watch the man as he swung his arms and his cane and as he erupted into whistling a tune. He disappeared, and she raised an untrusting brow, quietly pushing open the door and entering the room, closing it behind her.
Rose Danson was sitting at her vanity, looking into the mirror, and it was as though she put on her clothing in a rush. Her eyes fell to Luxy as she regarded her from the mirror. "Oh, hey, kid," she said, twisting open a container of violent red lipstick, placing a coat on her lips.
"Hi, Rose," Luxy said, padding across the room, the wonderful carpeting licking her soles as she took a seat on the bed, one leg bent and the other aimlessly dangling over the edge, still unable to shake the uncomfortable vibe the man had given her. "Who was that man?"
Rose smacked her vermilion lips together as she cocked a brow and turned around in the seat, regarding Luxy. "That? That kid was William Morrison. But enough about my life. Why you here?"
Luxy released an exuberant sigh and raised her arms to the air, falling back against the voluptuous bedding. "My life has gone to shit."
Rose clucked her tongue as she rose from the vanity and crossed the room to the bed, sitting and joining Luxy. "Your ma let you get away saying things like that?"
Luxy rolled her eyes, digging her fingers into the wonderful sheets. "My mother doesn't give a damn about me. She thinks my 'attitude is disgusting,'" she spat, even doing a horrid impersonation of her mother's accent.
Rose elicited a laugh, allowing her fingers to quickly run along Luxy's arm. "Jesus, kid, you sure are tan."
Luxy snorted. "It's what you get for being Italian."
Rose sat back, pondering Luxy's words with a faint smile. "Still running around without no cloths on?"
Luxy arose sharply to a sitting position her hair coming undone and fluttering down her back. "How d'ya expect someone to wear clothing when its three hundred degrees out?"
Rose raised a perfectly arched brow. "Is it that hot out, kid?"
Luxy avidly shook her head. "Yeah. And I'se about to cut my hair off, too!"
Rose released a slight chortle. "I can braid your hair of ya want, kid."
Luxy nodded. "Yeah, sure."
The bed fluxed under the scarlet woman's weight, and soon her fingers were combing through Luxy's tangles of hair, working feverishly to create a plat. She broke the silence and Luxy was jilted back to the presence, as the aroma of lavender was creeping into her brain, causing her to wish she could fall asleep on the wonderful bed.
"You ever find that Benji fellow?"
It was then as though the glorious scent and the colors were banished and dull replicas took their place. Luxy sat back, a frown upon her lips, as Rose's fingers worked her hair. "Yes," she said after an epoch of silence. "I did."
"Ah, that's good kid," Rose said cheerfully, finishing the plat and throwing it over Luxy's shoulder. Yet, the latter slowly shook her head, turning over her shoulder to look at Rose.
"No, its not. His-his parents died in a fire on his birthday."
Rose's smile fell.
Luxy turned about-face and sat crossed-leg, regarding the woman with large eyes. "Yeah. It-it was awful. His daddy always used to beat him, but his ma, his ma was great to him. He was gonna have to start work in the factory the next day, but cause of his parent's deaths he got to start two weeks later. I-I'se so worried about him. Ya see, he was gonna have to go to live in the orphanage, but I begged Mama to let him stay. She hated him but somehow she won over Pa and he lives with us-but its jist in this little ratty blanket in the corner of the kitchen. Pa hates him and won't let him eat any of out food-but most of the time he can't even afford food because he skips work all the time-I mean, I'se found him countless times in his old apartment and he jist sits in a corner with all the ashes with his knees to his face and he don't respond to anything I say. He, he's like a volcano, ya know? Like on the outside he look horrible and scruffy but he really don't snow no emotions-its like they all inside him and one day they are jist gonna git loose and I don't know what the hell will happen to him-- "
There was a heavy quietness in the air as Rose ruptured it by asking, "He ya boyfriend?"
Luxy absentmindedly shook her head, her hands going to the braid. "Nah, he's jist me best friend. The only person I love in the whole world. I miss jist goofing off with him and everything, ya know?" She released a great sigh, her shoulders falling round. "I asked him if he would marry me and he said yes. I mean, its not one of those deals like in fairy tales where they are in love with each other. I mean, we love each other but we ain't in love with each other, ya know? I guess I jist need the support. My, my birthday is tomorrow. Me and Benji, we always had this saying that "birthdays are bad luck," and I don't know--"
"How old ya gonna be, kid?" Rose asked softly.
Luxy averted her eyes to the bedding, her fingers rapidly twisting about the plat. "Thirteen, but its jist not that, its that I have to go work in the factory with Mama and then that's the end of me life." Yet, she could not hold back the tears as they fell freely from her eyes. "I, I'se not ready to grow up yet. I want to stay a kid. Me and Benji to be kids forever, that's all I want."
She fell against Rose, who placed a comforting arm around her. "I don't want to work in the factory-I'd rather work in the Red Bull."
Suddenly, Rose's arm left Luxy as she ferociously propped her up. Her eyes glimmered with a vengeance. "No you listen to me, Luxy. Never, ever say that. You don't want to end up like me, a prostitute. I mean, I have a little girl, Ruby, the same age as you. I want to see her grow up, but I made wrong choices when I was young and now I have to work here, allowing men into my bed, any man who can pay. You think I want her to know what I'm doing? You think I like what I do?" Her grip fell lax. "No, Luxy. You don't want to become a whore. It's the worst profession there is. I cried my first time and I have to keep myself from crying every time."
She released Luxy and fell back, as Luxy regarded her through tear-stained vision. "Me sister Meg was killed in the factory and all of me sister and mother have been raped. I don't want that to happen to me."
"Ah, kid," Rose said as lightly as she could, returning her grasp around Luxy. "Sometimes we're faced with tough situations, situations that we would rather kill ourselves than face, but, hell, its life. You have to face them. And if you try, you will."
Luxy fell against Rose and the soft material of her satin dress as she pondered this. Suddenly, an ungodly dark thought unbridled its self and was running rampant through her mind. "Rose, what's a child mole easter?"
She felt Rose go stiff under her. "What?" she said in a razor voice.
Luxy raised herself up, looking into her dark gaze. She shrugged and stammered. "I-I don't know. It's jist a word that Pa used--"
Yet, Rose would not be deterred. She placed her hands firmly on either side of Luxy's olive shoulders. "Kid, did something happen?"
Luxy bowed her head and closed her eyes, Mr. Antonelli's dark, haunting eyes ever so vivid. She opened them with a gasp.
Rose roughly shook her. "Kid, what in the hell happened?"
Luxy regarded her, tears stinging her creases and her mouth opening and closing like some sort of fish. "I-I-nothing."
"What happened?"
She cast her eyes away for she suddenly felt absolutely dirty and filthy. "What if-what if something bad happened--"
"Like what?"
"I CAN'T SAY!" Luxy's voice was shrill and strained with tears. Mr. Antonelli's atrocious voice reverberated through her mind.
You. You, little girlie, you won't tell nobody about this, you hear. You hear! Because, because if you do, if you tell anybody, I will kill your family. You hear that? I live above you and will know if you tell and then I will kill your family!
"Luxy what the hell happened?" Rose shook her roughly once more, her voice hard and filled with worry.
Luxy allowed herself to be tossed about, the tears streaming down her sunburnt flesh. "I can't! I wanted to tell Benji but I can't! He will hear and he will do something bad!"
Rose viewed her with sympathetic frustration. "Oh, kid, something serious happened and I know it-I know it but you won't tell me."
Luxy nodded her head.
Rose exhaled and collapsed. "If you won't tell me then tell Benji, won't ya kid?"
Luxy reluctantly nodded her head once more through the convulsions. Rose shook her head, causing her hellfire red spirals to spring about, as she pulled a handkerchief from the bosom of her dress with a fluid motion. "Here, kid. Take this."
Luxy received it and placed it to her nose, blowing quite hard and producing an audible noise, just as a loud knock was heard on the door.
Rose raised her gaze to the lavender door. "Oh, shit," she said under her breath, her frantic gaze falling to Luxy. "Look, kid, I know that this is some serious stuff and I really don't want to rush ya or nothing but I got a customer."
Luxy blew her nose once more. "It's okay. I understand." She held the handkerchief out to Rose, who only shook her head and raised her hands. "You keep it."
In a flourish, Rose was ushering Luxy out the door, her raven hair wild and falling from the plat and her eyes red. Rose welcomed the customer, a nervous in demeanor man, as she pushed him into the bedroom as Luxy exited into the hallway, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
"Look, kid," Rose said solemnly, poking her head out of the door. "If ya won't tell me ya gotta tell somebody, ya gotta."
Luxy laggardly nodded her head.
Rose forced a slight smile. "Look kid, tell someone. And come back soon, won't ya?"
Luxy only absentmindedly nodded once more and turned away, holding the handkerchief to her visage as she heard Rose elicit a mournful sigh behind her and as the door softly clicked.
She ran a hand against her nose once more, as she shuffled down the glossy hallway, the slight groans and sounds of beds connecting with walls seeping into her ear canals.
Tell Benji. Tell Benji. Why not tell Benji tomorrow? After all, birthdays are bad luck, aren't they?
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Lux, I KNOW it hurts.please stop grimacing like that. Lux, please, just bite down on the spoon, Lux.OWH! Damn you Luxy! Mama, I cannot do this! She tried to bite me! Honest to God the little brat tried to bite me! Well, those ugly stitches can adorn her face until she is dead and rotting and I wouldn't care!"
An animal. An animal could describe what Luxy Listin felt parallel to on that blistering scorching Saturday morning which marked the first day of summer as she sat on a rickety stool that lurched to the right, knees spread, eyes squinted shut, body slick with perspiration, teeth clamped down hard on her mother's wooden spoon.
At first, she fancied herself a horse. A horse that had just gotten over an injury and was getting the stitches removed. The spoon her mother gave her to bite down on for the pain was the bit, a bit, which Lynn kept jamming back further into her jaw so much that it first caused a dull aching sensation which was now throbbing pangs of agony.
She knew the stitches had to come out. The stitches closed the atrocious gash that had been a souvenir of her encounter with Mr. Antonelli. When Benji had brought her home that day, Nathalie Listin had turned milky white, clasped a hand to her chest, and hovered over her child, spitting out frantic French as she ran her hand over Luxy's gash, blood staining her once fair hands.
Luxy had remained in a motionless, rarely blinking stupor even through the twilight when all her family gathered. Tony Listin had gone off, bellowing deep oaths in his native tongue. Nathalie Listin had battled him in the sharp pitter-patter of her language. Her siblings had stood motionless, silent, worried over their sister who had remained slumped on some old cushions and wrapped in a moth-eaten blanket, her eyes glassy and with dried blood clinging to her face.
The conclusion reached between the majority was that that "goddamn Conlon boy next door" had done it to her. Her father told her that it served her right for hanging out with him like a little slut and that he was bound to turn in to a wife beater like his daddy. Her mother flitted about, nodding her head and agreeing readily. That Luxy had behaved like a boy all her life too much and that it wasn't proper for a lady of such caliber to be hanging about the likes of such riff raff.
Though those around her were oblivious to it, Luxy's mind had been quite intact that night. True, she had been quite mad and delirious after being violated and threatened by the tenant above her, but she almost had to bite her tongue and restrain herself with all her soul from bursting out and calling her parents insane, her father a bastard, and her mother a prissy bitch.
What an audacious thought to think that Benji had given her the gash. True, he had given her the fantastic bruise on her right cheek, but she was the only thing on earth, save his mother, that he loved. Incredulous notions to think that Benji would inherit his father's ruthless habits towards women, a man who he loathed. But behaving un-lady like? She, a lady of caliber and Benji riff raff?
At this moment, Nathalie Listin was now occupying the space that Lynn had earlier. Taking Luxy's chin in her right hand, she sharply jerked it towards her, infuriating Luxy so that she had to sit on her hands so that they did not strike her mother across the face. If Benji was riff raff, then the Listins were riff raff. It was quite insane that her mother think herself still a lady of high caliber. Just because she was in denial that her childhood in France was a pompous one of dapple-gray ponies and parties and that she had married Tony Listin and now worked in an atrocious sweatshop and lived in a rat infested apartment and had to slave to her entire family didn't mean that she could dictate social hierarchy over others.
Luxy shifted her head every so slightly to see that her mother's sharp blue eyes were fixated on the stitches. Her eyebrows raised and her gaze moved to Luxy. "Keep your head straight," her strict accent rang, as she snapped her daughter's head straight.
A heated anger started to form in Luxy's chest, a heat that was not due to the smoldering apartment.
With a sharp pin and her grasp on Luxy's chin tightening, Nathalie slid it under the first stitch and quickly pulled it out.
"OWH!"
Luxy's ear-splitting scream shattered the heat as she sprang off the stool and to her feet, the spoon clattering to the floor. The bitter tears formed in the creases of her eyes as she drew her hand to her cheek.
"Luxy," her mother commanded. "Sit."
She shook her head, backing away. "No, I can't. It hurts too much!"
Nathalie Listin's eyes were filled with disgust and contempt as she bent down and retrieved the wooden spoon from the splintered floor. "Lux Listin," she said, her voice sharp as a razor, "if you don't sit down you'll have another set of stitches on the other side of your face from me striking the spoon against you."
Luxy regarded her mother with bitter, almost childish tears welling in her eyes. "Mama, no it hurts!"
Nathalie's pale blue eyes never lost an iota of their coldness as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Luxy, now."
Luxy's gaze flickered to Lynn and then to her mother. They both stood the same way save Lynn's repulsion was open. "MAMA I CAN'T!" she screamed, slamming her foot against the ground, causing the floorboards to shutter and dust to arise.
Nathalie elicited an audible cry of disgust. "Oh GOD DAMN YOU! Juste comme votre fichu père! Un fichu gosse!" With a flick of the wrist, the hard spoon had connected with Luxy's other cheek, causing the skin to rupture and turn purple immediately, as she burst into hysterical sobs.
With a sharp motion, Nathalie had pushed Luxy onto the stool. "Lynn, hold her arms."
Lynn rolled her eyes and reluctantly stood behind Luxy, binding her wrists together in a pleasing grip of iron. Nathalie had abruptly raised one foot and had removed her shoe, letting it clatter to the floor, as she only needed a sock. She thrust the sweaty, disgusting garment into Luxy's mouth, causing the latter to launch into a severe gagging spell.
Nathalie ignored as Luxy went in to convulsions, only pressing her legs tight against her daughter's so they would not flail about. "Hold her tight," she said frigidly, Lynn nodding, as she began the task of plucking the stitches out, one by horrifying one.
If there was such thing as Hell, then Luxy was there. The taste of the unwelcome garment saturated into her mouth leaving an absolutely disgusting aftertaste and the agonizing, excruciating pain of the homemade stitches was impossible to bear. She only saved herself from fainting by steadily focusing on Benji's ratty, makeshift bed that lay on the other side of the kitchen.
She did not know how long she sat on that stool in that uncompromising position, the scorching sun boring down on her when she finally felt the sock being plucked from her mouth and the grip on her wrists fall lax.
"There," Nathalie Listin said condescendingly and stepping back, as though admiring her work, "it wasn't that bad, now was it? You just have to go and make a speck of rain a thunder storm."
"I absolutely agree," Lynn snarled, crossing her arms. "You whine and snivel over nothing, Luxy--"
Her words were cut short as Luxy spat in her face in abhorrence. She stepped back, her features twisted into revilement. "You-you little whore!" she screamed, her gaze insane. "Mama, look what she did!"
Luxy's eyes were narrowed in hatred as she rose from the stool, causing it to clatter to the floor. "Me the whore? Julie was the whore and ever since she ran away you've jist wanted to take her place: the bitch of the family!" Lynn's eyes widened as she brought a hand to her mouth in an exaggerated gasp. "You-you-you-you. Mama, look what she's saying! How can you let her say that? How can you?" Charlatan tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Luxy averted her gaze to her mother, who only stood, her hawk-like features slick with perspiration. "Show your sister some respect," she stated frostily.
Luxy narrowed her eyes. "Why should I, Mama? She don't show me no respect-- "
Nathalie interrupted her. "Because I am your mother and by offending your sister you offend me. Your attitude is disgusting. You should be on your hands and knees thanking me for winning over your father by allowing that, that heathen to stay here--"
"HE IS NOT A HEATHEN!" Luxy screamed in a voice as sharp as glass, causing the heat to waver.
Nathalie raised a brow, her eyes still bitterly biting. "I may and will call him whatever I like while he is staying under this roof--"
Luxy's gaze was absolutely burning. "Go to hell. Go to hell both of you!" she shouted hoarsely before she spun abruptly about face and picked up her heels, thrusting herself through the door and down the moaning steps of the ancient tenement building.
She halted only once she was outside on the walk, where she was forced to bend over and place her palms on her thighs. The heat covered everything like a shroud. It was perhaps even worse that last summer.
Once she regained her breath, she straightened, her body coated in a layer of perspiration, as she strode on, her mother's sharp cries floating out the open window and following after her. Yet, she ignored them, gathering her long strands of raven hair upon her head. She did the only thing she knew possible to keep it off her neck: she messily divided the hair and tied it like a bow upon her pate.
Luxy only glanced over her shoulder at the burned out shell of the apartment building neighbor to hers. Waves of sadness and sympathy washed over her as her eyes fell to the old room on the third floor and to the left, the one that was left scarred the most by the inferno. She wondered if Benji was in there. He seemed to go there a lot, like he was trapped in a cocoon of memories that he could just not let go. He sometimes skipped going to the factory and would sit there all day, amongst the heap of black ashes, in the corner, a blank, depressed look etched upon his features. The only problem with this was the factory docked what little pay they offered for the days he missed.
Abruptly, her gaze shifted from the Conlon's former apartment to the room above the Listin apartment.
A marvelous chill worked its way down Luxy's spine, taking its time. It was Mr. Antonelli's apartment. She had almost forgotten about him. Almost forgotten the hideous depths of his black stare. Almost forgotten their encounter and his chilling threat.
Immediately, the picked up her place. Although she never saw his physical being, she seemed to see his terrifying eyes everywhere; they haunted her dreams constantly.
The Italian district was amazingly alive that day, despite the sweltering rushes of heat. Children dashed about the streets and sidewalks, playing miscellaneous games, the hub of all the excitement being The Park. There were fewer adult men to be seen for the majority of them were slaving away in the factory. The woman were more numerous, for some stood on the stoops of the tenement houses exchanging the latest gossip or just were hanging out the laundry.
Luxy allowed her feet to carry her through the waves of humidity and the children's shrieks and the murmurs laced with Italian. Soon, she was stripping layers of her clothing off. Nathalie had wanted her to accept the fact that she was maturing into a woman and had tempted her into wearing an incredibly tattered, hand me down pink dress that used to be Julie's. The dress was soon behind her, in a heap on the sidewalk, as she strode on, wearing just underpants and a undershirt as the majority of the children did on breathless summer days.
She knew her mother would have a fit if she saw Luxy walking about with out any outer-garments on. She had been trying futilely to get Luxy to wear a brassiere for her ever-developing body. Yet, she didn't give a damn if she developed knockers as large as Mrs. Pepper's had been. She silently promised herself that she would never mature.
It may have been on part of the smoldering heat or the fact that Luxy Listin just didn't desire to think about her horrid family life, Benji's strife, or her own ordeal with Mr. Antonelli, for she allowed her gaze to wander about and her feet to carry her in a state of oblivion. It was only when she forcefully slammed into a pedestrian that she was reeled back to reality, and after she murmured a reply, she took in the humidity and the scalding sidewalk and the unfamiliar buildings glaring in the sunlight.
"Oh, shit," she mumbled under her breath, whirling about in slow circles, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "This ain't the Italian district no more."
She had become drunk by the heat, yet she felt no true trepidation like she had before. This time she knew where Benji was located-he was in the factory.
Luxy instead crossed the street, taking in the atmosphere and feeling something that she could not quite pinpoint. It was a severe case of deja- vous, as though she had been here before-
And then it occurred to her as though it were a revelation.
"I knew I've been here before," she said, as she peered about, the last piece falling into place. Her eyes widened and she broke out into a run.
Luxy stopped only when she saw the building, the ancient red bricks weary in the bright light. She broke into a broad smile as she dashed to the entrance, tugging on the handle, and pushing the door open.
The overpowering scent of lavender invaded her nostrils, slowly seeping into her brain and causing her to feel drowsy. She entered the threshold, padding across a soft plush carpet, her eyes peering to a set of winding stairs. The internals of the building seemed somehow isolated from the ungodly humidity that reigned outside, despite the intoxicating, heavy scent.
Her gaze wandered about, taking in the ostentatious décor and she was about to pad up the maroon-carpeted stairs when a melodic French accent filled her ears. "Excuse, me, zittle goil. But where do you zink zat you are going?"
Luxy averted her eyes to view a beautiful woman entering through a doorway. In Luxy Listin's eyes she was tall and grand, dressed in a rippling blue and cream colored dress. Her ebony hair was piled on her crown and her features were accented by heavy cosmetics. And she possessed such a beautiful voice, a voice as sharp and clear as a bell, not like her mother's rough accent.
Luxy regarded the woman, an eyebrow raised as she involuntarily pointed to the stairs. "Uh, I was here before--"
The woman crossed her arms over her ample chest. "You whir here before?" she intoned, her pale blue eyes glimmering.
"No, not as a customer--" Luxy halted as the woman loosened her arms and released a tinkling laugh. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nuhzing," the woman replied, her lips pulled back in a smile. "It'z just what you said, it sounded funny."
"Oh," Luxy replied, somewhat unsure of herself.
The woman crossed the room, her eyes alight and her dimples prominent. She stopped in front of Luxy and bent down. Luxy was taken aback by the woman's large bosom yet quickly averted her eyes to the woman's.
"What iz your name?"
"Luxy?"
"Well, Luxy," the woman replied, straightening, "Arh you here to see someone?"
Luxy nodded. "Yeah. Rose."
The French woman stepped back, placing her index finger to her temple. "AH! You are joost in luck for Rose is in right now. You can go up and see her."
Luxy turned and proceeded to the stairs, placing a leg on one before she glanced over her shoulder to see the marvelous woman swishing out of the room, her dress ruffling behind her. She once again turned and continued up the stairs, reaching the second floor, the scent even more oppressing, causing dreamy swirls to circulate through her mind as slumber hung heavily upon her eyelids. She took her chances by turning left and strolling down a dim hallway, her weight creaking upon the floorboards and the sounds of moans and slight screams and springs being murdered. She reached the end of the hall and espied a door that was covered in a layer of pale purple paint. She halted in front of the door, inhaling, and softly wrapped upon it. She waited for an answer, and one was granted to her as a hoarse female voice replied, "Yeah, jist a minute."
Luxy stood waiting, a good five minutes, shifting her weight from foot to foot and cocking her head from side to side and glancing about the hallway. She drew her attention to the door when a click was finally heard and the door was cracked open.
A rather tall man in tails had his hand poised on the knob, and his gaze fixated inside the room. His face was slick with perspiration and red and a pleased grin played upon his lips. "Hey, thanks a lot, Rose."
"Anytime, Will," Rose Danson's hurried voice came from inside the room.
He nodded into the room and turned, almost jumping as he saw Luxy. Yet, he smiled down at her, some how a disgusting smile as though he were a crooked character. His dark eyes bore into hers as he nodded at her. "All yours, kid."
Luxy snapped her head down the hallway to watch the man as he swung his arms and his cane and as he erupted into whistling a tune. He disappeared, and she raised an untrusting brow, quietly pushing open the door and entering the room, closing it behind her.
Rose Danson was sitting at her vanity, looking into the mirror, and it was as though she put on her clothing in a rush. Her eyes fell to Luxy as she regarded her from the mirror. "Oh, hey, kid," she said, twisting open a container of violent red lipstick, placing a coat on her lips.
"Hi, Rose," Luxy said, padding across the room, the wonderful carpeting licking her soles as she took a seat on the bed, one leg bent and the other aimlessly dangling over the edge, still unable to shake the uncomfortable vibe the man had given her. "Who was that man?"
Rose smacked her vermilion lips together as she cocked a brow and turned around in the seat, regarding Luxy. "That? That kid was William Morrison. But enough about my life. Why you here?"
Luxy released an exuberant sigh and raised her arms to the air, falling back against the voluptuous bedding. "My life has gone to shit."
Rose clucked her tongue as she rose from the vanity and crossed the room to the bed, sitting and joining Luxy. "Your ma let you get away saying things like that?"
Luxy rolled her eyes, digging her fingers into the wonderful sheets. "My mother doesn't give a damn about me. She thinks my 'attitude is disgusting,'" she spat, even doing a horrid impersonation of her mother's accent.
Rose elicited a laugh, allowing her fingers to quickly run along Luxy's arm. "Jesus, kid, you sure are tan."
Luxy snorted. "It's what you get for being Italian."
Rose sat back, pondering Luxy's words with a faint smile. "Still running around without no cloths on?"
Luxy arose sharply to a sitting position her hair coming undone and fluttering down her back. "How d'ya expect someone to wear clothing when its three hundred degrees out?"
Rose raised a perfectly arched brow. "Is it that hot out, kid?"
Luxy avidly shook her head. "Yeah. And I'se about to cut my hair off, too!"
Rose released a slight chortle. "I can braid your hair of ya want, kid."
Luxy nodded. "Yeah, sure."
The bed fluxed under the scarlet woman's weight, and soon her fingers were combing through Luxy's tangles of hair, working feverishly to create a plat. She broke the silence and Luxy was jilted back to the presence, as the aroma of lavender was creeping into her brain, causing her to wish she could fall asleep on the wonderful bed.
"You ever find that Benji fellow?"
It was then as though the glorious scent and the colors were banished and dull replicas took their place. Luxy sat back, a frown upon her lips, as Rose's fingers worked her hair. "Yes," she said after an epoch of silence. "I did."
"Ah, that's good kid," Rose said cheerfully, finishing the plat and throwing it over Luxy's shoulder. Yet, the latter slowly shook her head, turning over her shoulder to look at Rose.
"No, its not. His-his parents died in a fire on his birthday."
Rose's smile fell.
Luxy turned about-face and sat crossed-leg, regarding the woman with large eyes. "Yeah. It-it was awful. His daddy always used to beat him, but his ma, his ma was great to him. He was gonna have to start work in the factory the next day, but cause of his parent's deaths he got to start two weeks later. I-I'se so worried about him. Ya see, he was gonna have to go to live in the orphanage, but I begged Mama to let him stay. She hated him but somehow she won over Pa and he lives with us-but its jist in this little ratty blanket in the corner of the kitchen. Pa hates him and won't let him eat any of out food-but most of the time he can't even afford food because he skips work all the time-I mean, I'se found him countless times in his old apartment and he jist sits in a corner with all the ashes with his knees to his face and he don't respond to anything I say. He, he's like a volcano, ya know? Like on the outside he look horrible and scruffy but he really don't snow no emotions-its like they all inside him and one day they are jist gonna git loose and I don't know what the hell will happen to him-- "
There was a heavy quietness in the air as Rose ruptured it by asking, "He ya boyfriend?"
Luxy absentmindedly shook her head, her hands going to the braid. "Nah, he's jist me best friend. The only person I love in the whole world. I miss jist goofing off with him and everything, ya know?" She released a great sigh, her shoulders falling round. "I asked him if he would marry me and he said yes. I mean, its not one of those deals like in fairy tales where they are in love with each other. I mean, we love each other but we ain't in love with each other, ya know? I guess I jist need the support. My, my birthday is tomorrow. Me and Benji, we always had this saying that "birthdays are bad luck," and I don't know--"
"How old ya gonna be, kid?" Rose asked softly.
Luxy averted her eyes to the bedding, her fingers rapidly twisting about the plat. "Thirteen, but its jist not that, its that I have to go work in the factory with Mama and then that's the end of me life." Yet, she could not hold back the tears as they fell freely from her eyes. "I, I'se not ready to grow up yet. I want to stay a kid. Me and Benji to be kids forever, that's all I want."
She fell against Rose, who placed a comforting arm around her. "I don't want to work in the factory-I'd rather work in the Red Bull."
Suddenly, Rose's arm left Luxy as she ferociously propped her up. Her eyes glimmered with a vengeance. "No you listen to me, Luxy. Never, ever say that. You don't want to end up like me, a prostitute. I mean, I have a little girl, Ruby, the same age as you. I want to see her grow up, but I made wrong choices when I was young and now I have to work here, allowing men into my bed, any man who can pay. You think I want her to know what I'm doing? You think I like what I do?" Her grip fell lax. "No, Luxy. You don't want to become a whore. It's the worst profession there is. I cried my first time and I have to keep myself from crying every time."
She released Luxy and fell back, as Luxy regarded her through tear-stained vision. "Me sister Meg was killed in the factory and all of me sister and mother have been raped. I don't want that to happen to me."
"Ah, kid," Rose said as lightly as she could, returning her grasp around Luxy. "Sometimes we're faced with tough situations, situations that we would rather kill ourselves than face, but, hell, its life. You have to face them. And if you try, you will."
Luxy fell against Rose and the soft material of her satin dress as she pondered this. Suddenly, an ungodly dark thought unbridled its self and was running rampant through her mind. "Rose, what's a child mole easter?"
She felt Rose go stiff under her. "What?" she said in a razor voice.
Luxy raised herself up, looking into her dark gaze. She shrugged and stammered. "I-I don't know. It's jist a word that Pa used--"
Yet, Rose would not be deterred. She placed her hands firmly on either side of Luxy's olive shoulders. "Kid, did something happen?"
Luxy bowed her head and closed her eyes, Mr. Antonelli's dark, haunting eyes ever so vivid. She opened them with a gasp.
Rose roughly shook her. "Kid, what in the hell happened?"
Luxy regarded her, tears stinging her creases and her mouth opening and closing like some sort of fish. "I-I-nothing."
"What happened?"
She cast her eyes away for she suddenly felt absolutely dirty and filthy. "What if-what if something bad happened--"
"Like what?"
"I CAN'T SAY!" Luxy's voice was shrill and strained with tears. Mr. Antonelli's atrocious voice reverberated through her mind.
You. You, little girlie, you won't tell nobody about this, you hear. You hear! Because, because if you do, if you tell anybody, I will kill your family. You hear that? I live above you and will know if you tell and then I will kill your family!
"Luxy what the hell happened?" Rose shook her roughly once more, her voice hard and filled with worry.
Luxy allowed herself to be tossed about, the tears streaming down her sunburnt flesh. "I can't! I wanted to tell Benji but I can't! He will hear and he will do something bad!"
Rose viewed her with sympathetic frustration. "Oh, kid, something serious happened and I know it-I know it but you won't tell me."
Luxy nodded her head.
Rose exhaled and collapsed. "If you won't tell me then tell Benji, won't ya kid?"
Luxy reluctantly nodded her head once more through the convulsions. Rose shook her head, causing her hellfire red spirals to spring about, as she pulled a handkerchief from the bosom of her dress with a fluid motion. "Here, kid. Take this."
Luxy received it and placed it to her nose, blowing quite hard and producing an audible noise, just as a loud knock was heard on the door.
Rose raised her gaze to the lavender door. "Oh, shit," she said under her breath, her frantic gaze falling to Luxy. "Look, kid, I know that this is some serious stuff and I really don't want to rush ya or nothing but I got a customer."
Luxy blew her nose once more. "It's okay. I understand." She held the handkerchief out to Rose, who only shook her head and raised her hands. "You keep it."
In a flourish, Rose was ushering Luxy out the door, her raven hair wild and falling from the plat and her eyes red. Rose welcomed the customer, a nervous in demeanor man, as she pushed him into the bedroom as Luxy exited into the hallway, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
"Look, kid," Rose said solemnly, poking her head out of the door. "If ya won't tell me ya gotta tell somebody, ya gotta."
Luxy laggardly nodded her head.
Rose forced a slight smile. "Look kid, tell someone. And come back soon, won't ya?"
Luxy only absentmindedly nodded once more and turned away, holding the handkerchief to her visage as she heard Rose elicit a mournful sigh behind her and as the door softly clicked.
She ran a hand against her nose once more, as she shuffled down the glossy hallway, the slight groans and sounds of beds connecting with walls seeping into her ear canals.
Tell Benji. Tell Benji. Why not tell Benji tomorrow? After all, birthdays are bad luck, aren't they?