Note from Author: Updating again.please review cause it makes me write
more! I guess to got very wrapped up and I use very ::cough:: passionate
language. In other words, strong language-very strong language. So anyhow,
please read, review, and enjoy..
CHAPTER EIGHT
The stairs were still, the shadows of the night playing upon the crevices, causing the atmosphere to be eerie, haunting, unnerving
Luxy Listin ascended the stairs, the charred boards creaking under her weight as though they were being murdered. Her breathing shallow, she allowed her eyes to flicker about, taking in the incinerated walls singed to ashes, a grisly reminder of the early spring fire.
Since the days following the blaze, nearly half the tenement house had been utterly destroyed. Roofs had caved and stairwells had collapsed. Those remaining feared the ever-present notion of perhaps the floor falling from beneath them, too weak to supports itself. They knew of how atrociously poor in quality that the apartments had been constructed, yet they were far too deeply scarred with poverty to find residence anyplace else. So they would wait, breath bated, any settling creak propelling them into near hysterics.
Luxy released her caged breath as she set foot on the third floor landing. God had indeed been with her in the quick Lord's Prayers that had rushed through her psyche rampantly during the climb. He hadn't allowed the stairs to collapse.
The burnt hallway was silent and still, the pungent smell of the night's humidity and the odor of the pyre invading her nostrils, causing her to elicit a sneeze, ash particles arising and swirling about.
Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she continued down the decrepit corridor, taking slow almost deliberately careful steps, the creaking floorboards sounding tenfold in her ears.
She passed warped doors, or what was left of them, and the empty apartments they guarded. She passed the Pepper's. The Peppers had gotten out of the fire before the licking demon flames had taken their lives. Alas, Mr. Pepper had had a bad heart and the inhalation of the thick smoke took its toll on him. He perished on the road outside as the fire ravaged the tenement building.
The Peppers were soon all but a whisper of a memory as Luxy halted, bringing her hand to the surface of the door she beheld. She traced her fingers along the fragments that remained, and under the soft weight of her touch, they crumbled, falling in blackened particles to her feet. She need not even open the door, for she only had to contort slightly to fit through the splinters of charred wood that remained.
As Luxy passed through the threshold, she straightened and allowed her vision to adjust to the dark atmosphere. Her lips parted slightly and she drew in a gasp, for the few times she had been in there since the blaze, it never ceased to leave her breathless.
Even though the room was nothing more than a blackened pit with piles of ashes all about and gaping holes parched into the floorboards, all the memories still remained outstandingly vivid and candid, as though they had occurred only yesterday. Remembrances of Anthony Conlon maddeningly and insanely swinging the cane above his head, Nora Conlon's cries rupturing the air, Benji's voice full of mortal fear and the sick crack as the cane collected with his skull and as he fell to the floor in an unconscious heap, and the absolutely wild gaze Conlon would don before he would approach Luxy herself on those few times filled her mind.
She proceeded forward, sidestepping a hole in the boards, an involuntary tear slithering down her cheek. She inhaled, running a hand through her tangles of hair. Her eyes darted over the room. He wasn't in this room, yet she knew where he would be.
Keeping her stride light and carefully keeping an eye out for chasms in the floorboards, Luxy made her way to the kitchen. Yet, as she crossed through the doorway, she tripped upon an over-turned board, causing her to fly headfirst in the room and billows of ashes to rise. She regained her balance sloppily, only to break into a tremendous coughing fit. She doubled over, her ebony hair falling in front of her face, as she closed her eyes tight, bringing one hand to her mouth as the other waved the thick smoke away.
When she had finally regained her breath, she stood, her flesh and clothing covered in a light coat of charcoal ash. She brought her hands to her eyes, furiously brushing away the soot, clearing her vision. Alas, part of her wished desperately that the ash remains could still be tainting her eyesight for what she espied caused her heart to shatter into two.
Benji was slumped on the floor at the intersection of two burnt, crumbling walls, only a few feet away from where his mother had taken her last breath before the smoke devoured her. He sat, his knees raised and his arms resting listlessly upon them. His head was resting against the corner, his gaze cocked away from Luxy, his dull eyes not blinking. He looked haggard, and somehow eroded as though he had aged tremendously and time was taking its toll on him. A bottle of whisky sat companion at the tip of his foot, glitter-shot in the moonlight that fell through the open, spider web-laced windows.
She had found him like this times before, but never with an expression this severe, this hopelessly forlorn-and never, ever before with alcohol.
Luxy released a sigh and proceeded quietly over to him, taking heed of the weakened floor, until she stood directly in front of him. He still did not regard her, his unblinking eyes trained to the wall.
"Benji," she said quietly, subtly clearing her throat, trying to piece together the correct words to say. "You weren't at the factory again today."
He simply remained still, his eyes frozen.
She cocked her head, the ball of her scoffed shoes rubbing into the scorched floorboards. "Benji," she said, raising her voice in pitch. "You weren't at--"
"Fuck the factory." His voice was low, cold, and hard. He had finally averted his head and his gaze was locked on hers, his fire green eyes dark.
Luxy cocked her head and her lips parted, as she fixated her knuckled hands on her hips, her smart-ass nature quickly catching up with her. "Ya know, Benji, you can say fuck the factory all you want but if you keep coming up here then how in the hell are you gonna support yourself?"
Benji regarded her, his lips pulled back into a slight snarl and his eyes insolent. "Ya know, Lux, ya starting to sound like my mother."
Luxy's mouth twisted and her eyes narrowed and the words rolled from her tongue before she had actually reviewed them intently. "No, Benji, I'se jist being your friend. You're mother's dead."
The words hung horribly in the air between them, as they both shared in the same expression. Luxy stepped back, stunned at what she had uttered. Benji gazed up at her, his jaw partially dropped and his eyes wide, stunned at her audacity.
"Benji," she said quickly, bringing a hand to her mouth, feeling herself turn white. "Benji-I'se sorry-I didn't mean it--"
Luxy gazed at him, almost fearful at what his reaction would be. Benji regarded her in disbelief for a few more moments before his expression transformed. He brought his lips together in a scowl and his eyes narrowed. He slid his bent leg out in front of him, causing the alcohol bottle to tip on its side in a clatter.
Luxy slightly jumped and released a gasp, her eyes falling to the bottle as the remainder of the contents were drained from it, saturating the antediluvian floorboards. She shifted her vision once more to Benji. He was bringing himself slowly to his feet, his hands falling to the hilt of the cane that was slid through one of his belt loops.
He began advancing excruciatingly slowly towards her, and she took every step backwards for every one he took forward. Her eyes could only remain trained to his, as a series of unbearably cold and ruthless shudders worked their way down her spine.
Benji had that drunken, maddening glint in his eye, and with that cane in his grasp, he resembled Anthony Conlon too close for comfort.
"Benji," Luxy said in stammering voice, saying each word slowly so that he would perhaps understand. "I'se sorry-I had no right so say that. I didn't mean it--" She halted when she saw that he had brandished the cane. Her gaze fell back to his as she continued to move back. "Benji. I didn't mean it! Benji, listen to me! I didn't mean it-I'se sorry!"
As Luxy took another step backwards, she abruptly released a scream. Her right foot had fallen through one of the holes in the floorboards, lodging her leg between the rough shards of wood.
She ignored Benji for a moment, placing her hands tightly around her thigh and trying futilely to pull herself out. The wood creaked and nothing more. Still tugging and pulling, Luxy raised her eyes and what she saw caused her breath to bate in her throat and all her actions to halt.
Benji was standing above her, the cane raised in his grasp. Yet, it was not Benji. It was Anthony Conlon.
Luxy released a sob and tried in a state of passionate desperation to free her leg, but the damn boards were just not giving way. "COME ON!" she shrieked.
Her vision flickered from her trapped leg to Benji, who had the cane raised above his head and was bringing it down, a wild look in his eyes.
"NO, BENJI, DON'T!" she screamed, her eyes suddenly shutting, and her life miraculously flashing before her eyes, a feat which she had only read about in the few novels that she had dilly-dallied over.
Luxy waited, her eyes squeezed together so tightly that a powerful pounding sensation had begun in between her eyes, waiting for the cane to connect with her skull. Yet, all she heard was a clean clatter.
Releasing her breath with a gasp, she allowed her eyes to flutter open as she raised her head. Through the wisps of wild raven hair that had fallen in front of her face, she could see that Benji had dropped the cane and was standing hunched, his palms to his forehead and his shoulder blades shaking violently.
With a mighty heave, Luxy grasped around her upper leg and pulled, causing the singed wood to shutter and break. She awkwardly pushed herself to her feet, stumbling before regaining her balance.
She stood regarding Benji, frozen, as convulsions over took him. He finally lowered his hands, and stared at her with his jade eyes red and glimmering from tears. His gaze flickered from her to the cane and back to her, before he erupted into another spasm and lunged at Luxy. He gripped either side of her shirt at the torso as he bent, pressing his crown into her chest, his tears staining her clothing.
"I miss her so bad. I miss her so bad." His voice was broken through the howls.
Luxy stood erect, leaning back on her heels and letting her head fall back, Benji's grip causing her to vibrate somewhat back and forth. "Oh, God, Jesus, no," she said softly, trying to keep her composure, yet she felt the awful lump manifest itself in her throat and the sharp tears begin to prick the creases of her eyes. "I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it," he ululated, breaking down more, his arms growing loose as he stretched the material of her shirt.
She lowered her head, slowly resting her intertwined fingers on the back of his head, his hair slick with filth under her touch. "I know ya didn't," she said, struggling to keep her voice. "Benj, I know ya didn't. It's that goddamn alcohol. The alcohol."
Benji released her and stepped back, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, as he absentmindedly cupped a hand around his mouth before running it through his hair. "The alcohol. The alcohol. Christ, I'm turning into my old man."
Luxy quickly covered the distance between them, reaching up and harshly grabbing his chin between her hand. She had to strain due to his newfound loftiness that was the product of a spurt. "Benji, you're not turning into your father. Don't ever say you're turning into your father."
Benji looked down at her, before he roughly pulled away. "Yeah, but it's the alcohol. The alcohol. It was the fucking alcohol that made my pa beat us with his cane. So what the hell do you call what jist happened?"
Luxy stepped back, her eyes trying to read past the spiteful challenge in his brought on by the hurt. "Benji, your father was an alcoholic. You can jist quit."
He stopped his quick pacing, looked at her, his eyes flashing, and strands of his hair falling in his face. "How can I quit?" he inquired in a strained, cracked voice, as he rapidly approached her, his hands raising above his head. "Why should I quit? When I'se drunk it blinds me from my goddamn life and from that goddamn factory. I can't survive unless I'm sober!"
Luxy stared up at him, her breathing labored and his expression wild. "Yeah and how the hell would you know anything about the factory? You'se up here all the time."
Benji released a high, forced laugh and stepped back. "What the fuck, Lux? You have no clue what kind of shit I'se gone through. You try finding your mother's dead goddamn body then almost being kicked out on the streets and then working in that goddamn factory where most of the time they think of ya as fresh meat and try to get ya in some dark corner so you can get down on ya knees and--"
"Jesus Christ, Benji, you act as though you are the only one goin' through anything!" she suddenly shrieked, causing him to halt. "I don't know if you are jist too damn drunk to realize it or not but to day is my birthday. Well, Happy fucking Birthday to me." She elicited a sigh of exasperation and began to walk sharply about, her features twisted into passion. "And what does that mean? Oh, well, jiminy, Benji, I guess that means that tomorrow I'se gonna be working in some goddamn sweatshop with me mother and sisters and I'se probably gonna git raped. I'se so sorry if you're the only one who thinks that Jesus hasn't saved you from having a shit life, but goddamn, Benji Conlon, I think I just may be beside you in the all time worst goddamn life ever!" On the last line she released a marvelous scream, shattering the night and clumsily removed one of her weather-beaten shoes, sending hit hurling through the air, Benji ducking, where it collided into a wall, causing it so splinter and ash to arise.
As she dust settled, the ardor suddenly drained from Luxy and she stood weak and wavering, her blue eyes locked on Benji's. "Christ," she said in a soft voice infected with tears. "We'se only kids. It's summer. We should be laying in The Park under the Sentinel, not worrying about stuff like--" She could not finish for she broken down into tears. Benji crossed the blazed floorboards, and soon his arms were about her torso as he held her tight.
"Benji, what happened?" she asked, the bridge of her nose pressed into his chest.
Benji could only shake his head. "We grew up."
They stood there, intertwined about each other, either one's only mortal support, afraid that if they were to let go they would crack and shatter to a million shards.
Luxy had finally bridled her emotions and she stood, drained of every possible emotion, the side of her face pressed against Benji, what a sudden, horrid thought entered her head.
She had utterly forgotten why she had come here. She had promised Rose.
Inhaling deeply, Luck raised her head, pulling away from Benji. "Benji, I have to tell you something."
He looked down at her, the tired trails of tears prominent on his features and his crosswise hair glimmering in the bars of moonlight that snaked through the window. "What is it, Lux?" he asked softly.
Luxy took in a breath, and turned, slowly striding over to the window, resting her palms on it, Benji taking her lead and joining her, his elbow raised elbow being perched on one of the vertical frame-boards.
Her hand involuntarily went to her left cheeks, her fingers trailing over the ungodly scar. "Benji, its about that night."
Benji's gaze flickered from the moonlit sky to Luxy. "What?" he asked, unable to hide the incredulity from his voice.
She kept her gaze forward, staring at the dark tenement building across the way, her expression somber and sorrowful, and her fingers encircling the scar. "The scar. That day. How I got the scar. I knew you always wondered but I couldn't say."
"Jesus, Lux, then tell me," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her. She resisted and only allowed her eyes to flutter to him for a moment before she trained them through the window once more, the darkness swirling together. "That day, I ran. I ran and I saw they you weren't behind me and I got scared--" She halted, feeling emotion impeding her speech, as his grip got tighter. "I-I panicked. And I got scared because no one else was out-but then I saw a man." She turned her head so their gazes were locked. "It was Mr. Antonelli."
Benji raised a brow. "Mr. Antonelli?"
Luxy nodded. "You know how people always say he's a child mole easter and how he collects little girls-well he was about to put me in his collection."
Absolute astonishment crossed Benji's face as he clamped both his hands on either of her shoulders. "Luxy, what the hell are you trying to say?"
Luxy lowered her head and stared at the singed floor, the feeling of that day taking a strong hold upon her. "He-he attacked me and, oh Christ, Benji the way he was jist looking at me and then I ran and he ran and he got me and starting attacking and he took off my underpants and--" Her words were becoming marred by tears. "But I ran and I got shelter and then when I was going to Tibby's he caught me and he caught me and he tried it again and said that if I, if I told anyone he would hear and he would kill my family."
Luxy had completely broken down and Benji could only regard her, stunned. "Christ, Lux."
She released a sob and fell against him, feeling as though a marvelously empowering and heavy weight had been lifted from her chest.
"And that's what that damn gash was from?"
She nodded into his chest.
"Jesus, Lux," Benji murmured, bewildered, placing a hand to his brow and causing strands of hair to stand straight, "why the hell didn't you tell me this before."
Luxy shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "I-I couldn't because I was so afraid, terrified and I saw those eyes everywhere. And I realized that I jist had to tell you--"
Benji could not respond for he was too utterly stunned by the revelation.
Indeed, it did feel as though some heavy burden had been miraculously lifted from her for it seemed as though she could breath now, save for the constricting convulsions.
Alas, Luxy's deplores were halted as a horrifying, high-pitch scream shattered the air.
With a gasp, she had raised her head, the hair still standing on the back of her neck and the awful echo still reverberating through her head.
"What in Christ's name was that?" Benji implored, as they both peered out the window.
Luxy could only shake her head, yet felt her blood run cold and another series of screams were produced-and as a light flared on in her apartment across the way.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat as she brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh, God, no. Oh, God, no?"
"What the hell is it, Lux?" Benji asked again, his voice strained.
Yet, Luxy could only remain paralyzed, her pounding heart sounding tenfold in her ears. Her mind had created a reason for the terrible cries, but she forced herself avidly not to believe it.
However, her utmost fears were confirmed as the light shone on once again, revealing the indisputable figure of Mr. Antonelli at the window of her apartment, a maniacal expression etched onto his features and a glittering butchers knife stained with deep red glittering in the moonlight.
Luxy stepped back, her hand still clutched to her mouth and her unbelieving eyes locked onto his malevolent, wild ones. "NOOO!" She released a breathtaking scream. "NOOOOO! JESUS CHRIST NO!"
Benji allowed his befuddled gaze to flicker between Mr. Antonelli's figure and Luxy's mask of immortal terror. Then a notion suddenly creeped into his mind and he released a gasp.
"Luxy, he doesn't--" Yet, she interrupted him, her voice at an insane pitch. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK HE'S DOING? HAVING TEA?"
Benji allowed his jaw to drop as his head snapped back to the window, only to find that Mr. Antonelli had disappeared.
It was looking into Benji's wide eyes that Luxy heard the audible moans of the apartment stairs in the adjacent tenement house.
And suddenly she knew she was in a dream. One big messy dream that was going to end. She only needed to tell herself to wake up.
She started mumbling rapidly to herself these words as she felt the wind being knocked out of her as Benji sharply pushed her forward. Nausea took control and the world seemed to be swirling about as though she was the axiom.
She had not an iota of reasoning as of how Benji pushed her out of that apartment and down the flights of steps, the first floor landing collapsing under their weight and sending them down screaming to the hard, scorched floor below, piles of splintered wood and ash raining down on them.
She was weak and half-insane as Benji grabbed her in the sea of debris and roused her to her feet, violently shoving her forward and out the door of the broken building, the night's humidity causing her to grow faint.
Yet, she ran. The heels of her shoes against the pavement, and of Benji's, and of Mr. Antonelli's filled her ears, combining in unison with the rhythmic, labored breathing of her heart. Mr. Antonelli's high hollers and lewd cries and Benji's harsh breathing drilled themselves into her head. Violent colors rushed through her brain as they surrounding began to waver, blur.
Luxy released a cry as she felt Benji place a hand on her torso and ferociously shove her sideways, causing her to stumble in gait as she was pitched to her side. Dull shots of pain radiated throughout her body, as she realized that he had shoved her into an abandoned alleyway.
Benji was leaning against the side of one of the building that encapsulated the alley, his palms flat against the side and his breathing impossibly heavy.
As she regarded him, she pondered if this is what it felt like when he realized that he was alone in the world and if she would have to become a drunk carrying a flask in her garter just to escape the reality of the sweatshop-
And suddenly the numbness wore away and she was left vulnerable and open and reality brutally and unmercifully hit her like a train collision in her mind.
Her haunting, mammalian-like howls spliced through the hot June night, as Benji stumbled over to her and sank beside her and clasp a hand over her mouth.
She found herself incomprehensibly shrieking how this could have happened, how he could have known, the anguish, torment, agony that surged throughout her too excruciatingly impossible to bear.
And she only heard Benji murmuring something that he had learned from his ma last fall that Mr. Antonelli had had a mute brother and he had had to lean how to read lips.
Yet, it was too much, all too much to bear on Luxy Listin for she felt as though these events were too advanced for a mind only thirteen years to the day in age. She felt herself suffocating, the darkness too heavy to withstand.
She soon drifted into unconsciousness, the unbearable pain slipping away for a few precious moments, only to be dealt with later.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The stairs were still, the shadows of the night playing upon the crevices, causing the atmosphere to be eerie, haunting, unnerving
Luxy Listin ascended the stairs, the charred boards creaking under her weight as though they were being murdered. Her breathing shallow, she allowed her eyes to flicker about, taking in the incinerated walls singed to ashes, a grisly reminder of the early spring fire.
Since the days following the blaze, nearly half the tenement house had been utterly destroyed. Roofs had caved and stairwells had collapsed. Those remaining feared the ever-present notion of perhaps the floor falling from beneath them, too weak to supports itself. They knew of how atrociously poor in quality that the apartments had been constructed, yet they were far too deeply scarred with poverty to find residence anyplace else. So they would wait, breath bated, any settling creak propelling them into near hysterics.
Luxy released her caged breath as she set foot on the third floor landing. God had indeed been with her in the quick Lord's Prayers that had rushed through her psyche rampantly during the climb. He hadn't allowed the stairs to collapse.
The burnt hallway was silent and still, the pungent smell of the night's humidity and the odor of the pyre invading her nostrils, causing her to elicit a sneeze, ash particles arising and swirling about.
Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she continued down the decrepit corridor, taking slow almost deliberately careful steps, the creaking floorboards sounding tenfold in her ears.
She passed warped doors, or what was left of them, and the empty apartments they guarded. She passed the Pepper's. The Peppers had gotten out of the fire before the licking demon flames had taken their lives. Alas, Mr. Pepper had had a bad heart and the inhalation of the thick smoke took its toll on him. He perished on the road outside as the fire ravaged the tenement building.
The Peppers were soon all but a whisper of a memory as Luxy halted, bringing her hand to the surface of the door she beheld. She traced her fingers along the fragments that remained, and under the soft weight of her touch, they crumbled, falling in blackened particles to her feet. She need not even open the door, for she only had to contort slightly to fit through the splinters of charred wood that remained.
As Luxy passed through the threshold, she straightened and allowed her vision to adjust to the dark atmosphere. Her lips parted slightly and she drew in a gasp, for the few times she had been in there since the blaze, it never ceased to leave her breathless.
Even though the room was nothing more than a blackened pit with piles of ashes all about and gaping holes parched into the floorboards, all the memories still remained outstandingly vivid and candid, as though they had occurred only yesterday. Remembrances of Anthony Conlon maddeningly and insanely swinging the cane above his head, Nora Conlon's cries rupturing the air, Benji's voice full of mortal fear and the sick crack as the cane collected with his skull and as he fell to the floor in an unconscious heap, and the absolutely wild gaze Conlon would don before he would approach Luxy herself on those few times filled her mind.
She proceeded forward, sidestepping a hole in the boards, an involuntary tear slithering down her cheek. She inhaled, running a hand through her tangles of hair. Her eyes darted over the room. He wasn't in this room, yet she knew where he would be.
Keeping her stride light and carefully keeping an eye out for chasms in the floorboards, Luxy made her way to the kitchen. Yet, as she crossed through the doorway, she tripped upon an over-turned board, causing her to fly headfirst in the room and billows of ashes to rise. She regained her balance sloppily, only to break into a tremendous coughing fit. She doubled over, her ebony hair falling in front of her face, as she closed her eyes tight, bringing one hand to her mouth as the other waved the thick smoke away.
When she had finally regained her breath, she stood, her flesh and clothing covered in a light coat of charcoal ash. She brought her hands to her eyes, furiously brushing away the soot, clearing her vision. Alas, part of her wished desperately that the ash remains could still be tainting her eyesight for what she espied caused her heart to shatter into two.
Benji was slumped on the floor at the intersection of two burnt, crumbling walls, only a few feet away from where his mother had taken her last breath before the smoke devoured her. He sat, his knees raised and his arms resting listlessly upon them. His head was resting against the corner, his gaze cocked away from Luxy, his dull eyes not blinking. He looked haggard, and somehow eroded as though he had aged tremendously and time was taking its toll on him. A bottle of whisky sat companion at the tip of his foot, glitter-shot in the moonlight that fell through the open, spider web-laced windows.
She had found him like this times before, but never with an expression this severe, this hopelessly forlorn-and never, ever before with alcohol.
Luxy released a sigh and proceeded quietly over to him, taking heed of the weakened floor, until she stood directly in front of him. He still did not regard her, his unblinking eyes trained to the wall.
"Benji," she said quietly, subtly clearing her throat, trying to piece together the correct words to say. "You weren't at the factory again today."
He simply remained still, his eyes frozen.
She cocked her head, the ball of her scoffed shoes rubbing into the scorched floorboards. "Benji," she said, raising her voice in pitch. "You weren't at--"
"Fuck the factory." His voice was low, cold, and hard. He had finally averted his head and his gaze was locked on hers, his fire green eyes dark.
Luxy cocked her head and her lips parted, as she fixated her knuckled hands on her hips, her smart-ass nature quickly catching up with her. "Ya know, Benji, you can say fuck the factory all you want but if you keep coming up here then how in the hell are you gonna support yourself?"
Benji regarded her, his lips pulled back into a slight snarl and his eyes insolent. "Ya know, Lux, ya starting to sound like my mother."
Luxy's mouth twisted and her eyes narrowed and the words rolled from her tongue before she had actually reviewed them intently. "No, Benji, I'se jist being your friend. You're mother's dead."
The words hung horribly in the air between them, as they both shared in the same expression. Luxy stepped back, stunned at what she had uttered. Benji gazed up at her, his jaw partially dropped and his eyes wide, stunned at her audacity.
"Benji," she said quickly, bringing a hand to her mouth, feeling herself turn white. "Benji-I'se sorry-I didn't mean it--"
Luxy gazed at him, almost fearful at what his reaction would be. Benji regarded her in disbelief for a few more moments before his expression transformed. He brought his lips together in a scowl and his eyes narrowed. He slid his bent leg out in front of him, causing the alcohol bottle to tip on its side in a clatter.
Luxy slightly jumped and released a gasp, her eyes falling to the bottle as the remainder of the contents were drained from it, saturating the antediluvian floorboards. She shifted her vision once more to Benji. He was bringing himself slowly to his feet, his hands falling to the hilt of the cane that was slid through one of his belt loops.
He began advancing excruciatingly slowly towards her, and she took every step backwards for every one he took forward. Her eyes could only remain trained to his, as a series of unbearably cold and ruthless shudders worked their way down her spine.
Benji had that drunken, maddening glint in his eye, and with that cane in his grasp, he resembled Anthony Conlon too close for comfort.
"Benji," Luxy said in stammering voice, saying each word slowly so that he would perhaps understand. "I'se sorry-I had no right so say that. I didn't mean it--" She halted when she saw that he had brandished the cane. Her gaze fell back to his as she continued to move back. "Benji. I didn't mean it! Benji, listen to me! I didn't mean it-I'se sorry!"
As Luxy took another step backwards, she abruptly released a scream. Her right foot had fallen through one of the holes in the floorboards, lodging her leg between the rough shards of wood.
She ignored Benji for a moment, placing her hands tightly around her thigh and trying futilely to pull herself out. The wood creaked and nothing more. Still tugging and pulling, Luxy raised her eyes and what she saw caused her breath to bate in her throat and all her actions to halt.
Benji was standing above her, the cane raised in his grasp. Yet, it was not Benji. It was Anthony Conlon.
Luxy released a sob and tried in a state of passionate desperation to free her leg, but the damn boards were just not giving way. "COME ON!" she shrieked.
Her vision flickered from her trapped leg to Benji, who had the cane raised above his head and was bringing it down, a wild look in his eyes.
"NO, BENJI, DON'T!" she screamed, her eyes suddenly shutting, and her life miraculously flashing before her eyes, a feat which she had only read about in the few novels that she had dilly-dallied over.
Luxy waited, her eyes squeezed together so tightly that a powerful pounding sensation had begun in between her eyes, waiting for the cane to connect with her skull. Yet, all she heard was a clean clatter.
Releasing her breath with a gasp, she allowed her eyes to flutter open as she raised her head. Through the wisps of wild raven hair that had fallen in front of her face, she could see that Benji had dropped the cane and was standing hunched, his palms to his forehead and his shoulder blades shaking violently.
With a mighty heave, Luxy grasped around her upper leg and pulled, causing the singed wood to shutter and break. She awkwardly pushed herself to her feet, stumbling before regaining her balance.
She stood regarding Benji, frozen, as convulsions over took him. He finally lowered his hands, and stared at her with his jade eyes red and glimmering from tears. His gaze flickered from her to the cane and back to her, before he erupted into another spasm and lunged at Luxy. He gripped either side of her shirt at the torso as he bent, pressing his crown into her chest, his tears staining her clothing.
"I miss her so bad. I miss her so bad." His voice was broken through the howls.
Luxy stood erect, leaning back on her heels and letting her head fall back, Benji's grip causing her to vibrate somewhat back and forth. "Oh, God, Jesus, no," she said softly, trying to keep her composure, yet she felt the awful lump manifest itself in her throat and the sharp tears begin to prick the creases of her eyes. "I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it," he ululated, breaking down more, his arms growing loose as he stretched the material of her shirt.
She lowered her head, slowly resting her intertwined fingers on the back of his head, his hair slick with filth under her touch. "I know ya didn't," she said, struggling to keep her voice. "Benj, I know ya didn't. It's that goddamn alcohol. The alcohol."
Benji released her and stepped back, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, as he absentmindedly cupped a hand around his mouth before running it through his hair. "The alcohol. The alcohol. Christ, I'm turning into my old man."
Luxy quickly covered the distance between them, reaching up and harshly grabbing his chin between her hand. She had to strain due to his newfound loftiness that was the product of a spurt. "Benji, you're not turning into your father. Don't ever say you're turning into your father."
Benji looked down at her, before he roughly pulled away. "Yeah, but it's the alcohol. The alcohol. It was the fucking alcohol that made my pa beat us with his cane. So what the hell do you call what jist happened?"
Luxy stepped back, her eyes trying to read past the spiteful challenge in his brought on by the hurt. "Benji, your father was an alcoholic. You can jist quit."
He stopped his quick pacing, looked at her, his eyes flashing, and strands of his hair falling in his face. "How can I quit?" he inquired in a strained, cracked voice, as he rapidly approached her, his hands raising above his head. "Why should I quit? When I'se drunk it blinds me from my goddamn life and from that goddamn factory. I can't survive unless I'm sober!"
Luxy stared up at him, her breathing labored and his expression wild. "Yeah and how the hell would you know anything about the factory? You'se up here all the time."
Benji released a high, forced laugh and stepped back. "What the fuck, Lux? You have no clue what kind of shit I'se gone through. You try finding your mother's dead goddamn body then almost being kicked out on the streets and then working in that goddamn factory where most of the time they think of ya as fresh meat and try to get ya in some dark corner so you can get down on ya knees and--"
"Jesus Christ, Benji, you act as though you are the only one goin' through anything!" she suddenly shrieked, causing him to halt. "I don't know if you are jist too damn drunk to realize it or not but to day is my birthday. Well, Happy fucking Birthday to me." She elicited a sigh of exasperation and began to walk sharply about, her features twisted into passion. "And what does that mean? Oh, well, jiminy, Benji, I guess that means that tomorrow I'se gonna be working in some goddamn sweatshop with me mother and sisters and I'se probably gonna git raped. I'se so sorry if you're the only one who thinks that Jesus hasn't saved you from having a shit life, but goddamn, Benji Conlon, I think I just may be beside you in the all time worst goddamn life ever!" On the last line she released a marvelous scream, shattering the night and clumsily removed one of her weather-beaten shoes, sending hit hurling through the air, Benji ducking, where it collided into a wall, causing it so splinter and ash to arise.
As she dust settled, the ardor suddenly drained from Luxy and she stood weak and wavering, her blue eyes locked on Benji's. "Christ," she said in a soft voice infected with tears. "We'se only kids. It's summer. We should be laying in The Park under the Sentinel, not worrying about stuff like--" She could not finish for she broken down into tears. Benji crossed the blazed floorboards, and soon his arms were about her torso as he held her tight.
"Benji, what happened?" she asked, the bridge of her nose pressed into his chest.
Benji could only shake his head. "We grew up."
They stood there, intertwined about each other, either one's only mortal support, afraid that if they were to let go they would crack and shatter to a million shards.
Luxy had finally bridled her emotions and she stood, drained of every possible emotion, the side of her face pressed against Benji, what a sudden, horrid thought entered her head.
She had utterly forgotten why she had come here. She had promised Rose.
Inhaling deeply, Luck raised her head, pulling away from Benji. "Benji, I have to tell you something."
He looked down at her, the tired trails of tears prominent on his features and his crosswise hair glimmering in the bars of moonlight that snaked through the window. "What is it, Lux?" he asked softly.
Luxy took in a breath, and turned, slowly striding over to the window, resting her palms on it, Benji taking her lead and joining her, his elbow raised elbow being perched on one of the vertical frame-boards.
Her hand involuntarily went to her left cheeks, her fingers trailing over the ungodly scar. "Benji, its about that night."
Benji's gaze flickered from the moonlit sky to Luxy. "What?" he asked, unable to hide the incredulity from his voice.
She kept her gaze forward, staring at the dark tenement building across the way, her expression somber and sorrowful, and her fingers encircling the scar. "The scar. That day. How I got the scar. I knew you always wondered but I couldn't say."
"Jesus, Lux, then tell me," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her. She resisted and only allowed her eyes to flutter to him for a moment before she trained them through the window once more, the darkness swirling together. "That day, I ran. I ran and I saw they you weren't behind me and I got scared--" She halted, feeling emotion impeding her speech, as his grip got tighter. "I-I panicked. And I got scared because no one else was out-but then I saw a man." She turned her head so their gazes were locked. "It was Mr. Antonelli."
Benji raised a brow. "Mr. Antonelli?"
Luxy nodded. "You know how people always say he's a child mole easter and how he collects little girls-well he was about to put me in his collection."
Absolute astonishment crossed Benji's face as he clamped both his hands on either of her shoulders. "Luxy, what the hell are you trying to say?"
Luxy lowered her head and stared at the singed floor, the feeling of that day taking a strong hold upon her. "He-he attacked me and, oh Christ, Benji the way he was jist looking at me and then I ran and he ran and he got me and starting attacking and he took off my underpants and--" Her words were becoming marred by tears. "But I ran and I got shelter and then when I was going to Tibby's he caught me and he caught me and he tried it again and said that if I, if I told anyone he would hear and he would kill my family."
Luxy had completely broken down and Benji could only regard her, stunned. "Christ, Lux."
She released a sob and fell against him, feeling as though a marvelously empowering and heavy weight had been lifted from her chest.
"And that's what that damn gash was from?"
She nodded into his chest.
"Jesus, Lux," Benji murmured, bewildered, placing a hand to his brow and causing strands of hair to stand straight, "why the hell didn't you tell me this before."
Luxy shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. "I-I couldn't because I was so afraid, terrified and I saw those eyes everywhere. And I realized that I jist had to tell you--"
Benji could not respond for he was too utterly stunned by the revelation.
Indeed, it did feel as though some heavy burden had been miraculously lifted from her for it seemed as though she could breath now, save for the constricting convulsions.
Alas, Luxy's deplores were halted as a horrifying, high-pitch scream shattered the air.
With a gasp, she had raised her head, the hair still standing on the back of her neck and the awful echo still reverberating through her head.
"What in Christ's name was that?" Benji implored, as they both peered out the window.
Luxy could only shake her head, yet felt her blood run cold and another series of screams were produced-and as a light flared on in her apartment across the way.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat as she brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh, God, no. Oh, God, no?"
"What the hell is it, Lux?" Benji asked again, his voice strained.
Yet, Luxy could only remain paralyzed, her pounding heart sounding tenfold in her ears. Her mind had created a reason for the terrible cries, but she forced herself avidly not to believe it.
However, her utmost fears were confirmed as the light shone on once again, revealing the indisputable figure of Mr. Antonelli at the window of her apartment, a maniacal expression etched onto his features and a glittering butchers knife stained with deep red glittering in the moonlight.
Luxy stepped back, her hand still clutched to her mouth and her unbelieving eyes locked onto his malevolent, wild ones. "NOOO!" She released a breathtaking scream. "NOOOOO! JESUS CHRIST NO!"
Benji allowed his befuddled gaze to flicker between Mr. Antonelli's figure and Luxy's mask of immortal terror. Then a notion suddenly creeped into his mind and he released a gasp.
"Luxy, he doesn't--" Yet, she interrupted him, her voice at an insane pitch. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK HE'S DOING? HAVING TEA?"
Benji allowed his jaw to drop as his head snapped back to the window, only to find that Mr. Antonelli had disappeared.
It was looking into Benji's wide eyes that Luxy heard the audible moans of the apartment stairs in the adjacent tenement house.
And suddenly she knew she was in a dream. One big messy dream that was going to end. She only needed to tell herself to wake up.
She started mumbling rapidly to herself these words as she felt the wind being knocked out of her as Benji sharply pushed her forward. Nausea took control and the world seemed to be swirling about as though she was the axiom.
She had not an iota of reasoning as of how Benji pushed her out of that apartment and down the flights of steps, the first floor landing collapsing under their weight and sending them down screaming to the hard, scorched floor below, piles of splintered wood and ash raining down on them.
She was weak and half-insane as Benji grabbed her in the sea of debris and roused her to her feet, violently shoving her forward and out the door of the broken building, the night's humidity causing her to grow faint.
Yet, she ran. The heels of her shoes against the pavement, and of Benji's, and of Mr. Antonelli's filled her ears, combining in unison with the rhythmic, labored breathing of her heart. Mr. Antonelli's high hollers and lewd cries and Benji's harsh breathing drilled themselves into her head. Violent colors rushed through her brain as they surrounding began to waver, blur.
Luxy released a cry as she felt Benji place a hand on her torso and ferociously shove her sideways, causing her to stumble in gait as she was pitched to her side. Dull shots of pain radiated throughout her body, as she realized that he had shoved her into an abandoned alleyway.
Benji was leaning against the side of one of the building that encapsulated the alley, his palms flat against the side and his breathing impossibly heavy.
As she regarded him, she pondered if this is what it felt like when he realized that he was alone in the world and if she would have to become a drunk carrying a flask in her garter just to escape the reality of the sweatshop-
And suddenly the numbness wore away and she was left vulnerable and open and reality brutally and unmercifully hit her like a train collision in her mind.
Her haunting, mammalian-like howls spliced through the hot June night, as Benji stumbled over to her and sank beside her and clasp a hand over her mouth.
She found herself incomprehensibly shrieking how this could have happened, how he could have known, the anguish, torment, agony that surged throughout her too excruciatingly impossible to bear.
And she only heard Benji murmuring something that he had learned from his ma last fall that Mr. Antonelli had had a mute brother and he had had to lean how to read lips.
Yet, it was too much, all too much to bear on Luxy Listin for she felt as though these events were too advanced for a mind only thirteen years to the day in age. She felt herself suffocating, the darkness too heavy to withstand.
She soon drifted into unconsciousness, the unbearable pain slipping away for a few precious moments, only to be dealt with later.