Well I'm back…sorry for the extremely ridiculous delay. Honestly, I lost motivation with this, I was working so hard on it for a while and it wasn't really getting any feedback, so I started working on other things. But I did have a few requests to keep going so that's what I'm doing.
I want to stress…this story does currently and will probably continue to contain violence. So if you don't like that, please don't read. It is a story about someone coping with being a victim of a violent crime, so honestly it is to be expected.
Please enjoy:)
I sit in the car in the parking lot to the factory, trying to get myself psyched up, idly picking at the cold fries that lay discarded on my passenger seat. Puck shouldn't be too far behind me, he only had to wait for his ridiculous order of four cheeseburgers and a cherry limeade back at Sonic. For some reason, even though I've done it every night this week, I don't want to go in there alone. Jamie was beyond pissed that I took out her little protégé the other night. She's probably got somebody waiting in there to kill me. For a split second I think that might just be easier than all this. I mean, god knows my mom wished I was dead instead of Ang, and my dad would probably go back to having no kids if he could. Quinn's too busy for me these days and obviously Brittany deserves so much more than me. I wonder to myself in that moment, if I die on that cold cement floor tonight, if the last thing I see of this earth is Jamie's gloating face over my swollen, bloody one, if I leave this world as weak and vulnerable as I came into it, would anybody really care? Would anybody's lives change?
I'm ripped from my thoughts as Puck's old Bronco zips up next to my Subaru and parks. I sigh and get out of the car and lean back against the hood. He approaches me, half a cheeseburger hanging out of his mouth as he's digging through his pockets. He pulls out his pack of Newports and offers me one, and suddenly I feel like an inmate on death row being offered my last meal. I take one gratefully and perch it between my lips, patting my pockets in hopes I'd have one of my trusty Bics on me. Without hesitation Pick whips out his Zippo and with a quick flick of his wrist and a subtle crackling sound, I'm inhaling the smooth, menthol goodness.
"Thanks," I mutter, letting some of the smoke flow out through my nostrils.
"Just take everything that's ever made you mad and use it in there okay?" he tells me, lighting up his own smoke.
I let my mind reel, back to nearly every time I could remember losing my temper. From the time Ang got a cool birthday party at Chuck-E-Cheese with all her friends and I just got a brownie with a candle in it and a card with five dollars in it from my grandmother, to the Christmas that same year when Ang got a bike and I got a jump rope and gum. I think of the night I finally came out, and my mom's drunken response was dragging me to her bathroom and throwing me in the tub, dousing me in ice cold water in soap, rambling on about sin and 'no daughter of mine'. I think of the day I told my mother I wanted to be a writer, and her telling me the only thing more pointless than be being a lesbian would be for me to write about it. I think of my college fund, which is now known as the custom Mahogany liquor cabinet in my parents den, along with most of the first bottles that ever called it home. I think of being so in love with Brittany, and being afraid to tell her for so long while I watched what seemed like every guy and girl under the sun go after her. I think of that fucking mugger's face, and the sound of Brittany's cries as he beat the shit out of me and stole her stuff. I think of my sister's death, and how she was really going places, and here I am smoking a cigarette with a belly full of disgusting fast food, getting ready to go throw a few punches just because feeling pain is better than feeling nothing at all.
"You okay?" Puck asks and I snap out of my trance, taking one last drag off my smoke before flicking it into a slushy puddle nearby.
"If I die tonight, tell Brittany I love her, okay? Just tell her I was doing this for her," I tell him as we start to walk toward the door.
"You're not going to die, Lopez. Worst case scenario, you bust up your face a little. I don't know if you've noticed but you're kind of covered in bruises already," he points out.
"Yeah I know. It's getting harder to hide this shit from Brittany. I can only hit myself with the car door or fall in the shower so many times. Not mention Sue thinks my parents are beating me. Not like that hasn't happened a billion times, but if she calls child services like she wants to, my mom's reaction will be worse than what any of these bitches in here could do," I explain.
"Speaking of hiding shit…when are you going to tell Brittany about this?" he asks.
"I don't know…whenever I'm good enough at it that she can feel safe with me again," I tell him.
"She does feel safe with you, you lunatic. You're her hero, that never changed. Maybe you should let her protect you for once, cause if you asked me, this whole situation fucked you up a lot more than it did Brittany," he explains.
"She deserves a hero. That's what I promised her I'd be for her, always," I tell him as we open the door and start walking down the stairs to the basement.
"You deserve a hero too, San," he says, but I'm already in go-mode.
It's crowded tonight, a lot of girls I recognize now, but a few seem new. Jamie's in the middle of it all, of course, throwing practice punches like it's her job.
"Good grief," Puck sighs, taking in our surroundings. Puck's been in plenty of fights in his day, but I'm betting my ass he's never seen anything like this.
Jamie's little lackey nudges her with her shoulder and nods her head in my direction, tipping Jamie off with my arrival. She drops her fists and chuckles, heading over to me. I stand my ground and try not to gulp too loud.
"Look who it is, the little chicken shit showed up. And you brought your big bad boyfriend, huh?" she taunts me.
"He's not my boyfriend," I scowl, crossing my arms.
"Ah. She too much of a whiny little bitch for you, bro?" Jamie asks him.
"Nah, actually she's tough as nails and scares the piss out of me most of the time. But we aren't together. I mean not for lack of trying, I've been trying to get in those pants since like the sixth grade. But she's all about the ladies," Puck shrugs and I roll my eyes.
"Puck, you're not helping," I tell him.
"What? Chill, San, I'm sure they could smell it on you. In fact I'm sure that you're part of the majority here, all these girls seem like lady lovers to me," he points out and I just shake my head.
"Okay, gals if you're done with coffee talk, how about we get down to business?" Jamie interrupts and I shoo Puck off to a corner.
"I'm not scared of you Jamie. I beat your little sidekick and I can beat you too," I say, a little more cocky than I probably should be.
"Oh really? I'm pretty sure I knocked your fucking lights out just a few nights ago and you ran out of here like the pathetic little bitch you are," she mocks, poking me in the chest with one very strong finger.
"That was a cheap shot. That whole fight was cheap," I say, not breaking eye contact. Without looking away she chucks her water bottle halfway across the room and steps closer so that our noses are touching.
"Listen, dipshit. You might own things at whatever pussy ass high school you run the chess club for, but this is my house. And no short stub little Latina geek lesbian pussy who can't throw a decent punch to save her life is gonna come in here and tell me how to fight. We don't throw words here, we throw fists. So you got something to say, let's go. I'm done with your attitude, Blossom, and I really think…"
I cut her off, lunging my fist as hard as I can into the side of her head. She side steps a bit, thrown off by the impact before she turns back and lunges right at me. I brace myself, but it's no match for her strength and we both tumble to the ground where she pins me down fiercely.
"You think you're slick huh? Talk about cheap," she gloats. I try to wiggle free, but she has both my arms pinned flush hard to the cold concrete floor.
"Let me up," I groan, still attempting to free myself.
"Haha. So cute," she chuckles, and lifts one arm long enough to send a fierce punch drilling right into my jaw, before reapplying pressure to my other arm and repeating the move several times with alternating fists. I can already taste the blood gathering in my mouth as she continues pounding on my face.
"Hey back off, girl, you made your point!" I hear Puck yell, and I take advantage of the fact that Jamie becomes momentarily distracted by his outburst. I use all the strength I have to hurl her off me, stumbling a little bit before managing to get back up on my feet. I spit some blood out onto the floor and by the time I look back up, Jamie's already back up and her fist is coming straight for my face. It connects with my nose brutally and I crouch down holding it in pain, considering this is the third time my nose has been broken in about a month, I'm starting to get used to it, although I consider for a moment that I should probably see a doctor soon.
I hear Jamie snap her fingers and before I can even wonder why, two buff girls come up behind me, each of them holding one of my arms back, keeping me in place.
"Let me go! This isn't fair!" I holler, trying to wiggle from their grasp.
"Shut up!" Jamie yells, slapping me hard across the face, sending some of the blood smeared across my face splattering across the room. She cracks her knuckles before sending one ridiculously hard punch right into my midsection, effectively knocking the wind out of me.
My body wills itself to topple over in defeat, but the other two girls man handling me keep me held upright for Jamie to finish her assault. She alternates punches between my stomach and face and I'm on the brink of unconsciousness. I'm not sure what I'm feeling as her rock hard knuckles keep colliding with my muscles, but the pain doesn't feel like it used to.
People are shouting in the background, but I can't make out any actual words, it all sounds like muffled moans to me. Again and again she pounds punches into me and even though I finally open my mouth to cry or scream for her to stop, all that comes out is a laugh. A loud, hysterical laugh that brewed somehow deep in my belly and erupted from my throat beyond my control.
My head is hung down, so I don't see how Jamie reacts but she must me because she stops wailing on me for a moment and takes a step back. I'm still laughing as her not so little helpers hoist me up from my slouched position and I see Jamie's feet shuffle back toward me before she delivers two quick shots, one deep into my lower stomach followed swiftly by another one across my jaw. The other girls release their hold on me on her command, and my body plummets to the cold ground. I'm still trembling with laughter as I lay there covered in my own blood, probably with more broken bones than I realize.
"Get help, you psycho," Jamie mutters above me. Even still, I can't stop laughing hysterically, and it isn't even until Puck scampers over and scoops my crumpled body off the ground that I realize why.
I deserve this pain.