Her accusing glare makes me feel like I'm under a spotlight. She assesses me in depth as if my state of dress will let on to my previous indiscretions Her eyebrow rises, "Cat got your tongue?"
Fondling the spare key in my hand, I reply, "Nope. I just didn't realize that you'd be up, that's all," I grin cheekily.
The pregnant chick lifts off the couch and wobbles around to stand in front of me, "It's roughly six in the morning and this is the time I usually pay the kitchen a visit. I snuck a peek in your room and guess what…"
Taking her silence as a signal to fill in the blank, "What?"
"You weren't there," she flatly states.
"I guess I got caught up…sorry - didn't mean to scare you, honestly."
As I step around her, she grabs my arm, "What had you so absorbed, might I ask?"
Tapping my foot impatiently, it's fucking freezing and my body is shaking from the ice cold water that seeped into my heels on the way home, "I was partying with the crew, okay? We were doing shots and stuff and time passed me by. Now can you please excuse me?" I shrug off her hand and proceed to my room.
"Funny. I called up Wes thinking the same…he said he hadn't seen you since he officially locked up the place."
Stopping in my tracks, I try as best as I can to not look guilty. The wheels are turning in her head. The discrepancy in both our stories is blaring. What if she knows? If she does, she's going the interrogation route which unnerves me because I'd rather just quit beating around the bush.
"I love you, honey, I do but you're ball hopping right now."
"You're in my house. You've been coming in a random hours of the night and sometimes dawn…I'm worried about you."
Scratching my scalp out of nervous instinct, "Don't worry. I'm fine."
She crosses her arms over her belly quite unconvinced, "I know you, Marleene, and I know you very damn well. You aren't fine."
"I am fine, goddamn!"
Her posture softens, "I thought we made an honesty pact, remember? We said that whatever problem came our way, we wouldn't fail to let the other know? 'Cus we're best friends and we tell each other the nitty-gritty bits of everything?" she pulls a face, "Don't make me use the 'I guess I was wrong' line, babes."
And that's how I always manage to be roped into guilt. I've tried so hard to push this boulder of a problem up the hill and now, it's about to roll back down and hurt somebody; all because of a stupid, yet sacred, pact.
Tugging her over to the couch, I sit down next to her and let my face fall, "Look, Abi-"
She clasps a hand over her mouth, "You're using my middle name. You always use it when it's something serious. Oh my…!"
It takes all my self-restraint not to slap her across her face for being so damn loud. Instead of doing so, I grab her cold hand and delve deep into her eyes, "Before anything, I just want you to know that anything I've done is solely for our benefit, okay? I love you and Dominick oh so very fucking much. You two are like my second family," my eyes start to fog up. This is shit…, "Remember when we found out that the baby's a girl?" she nod completely unsure of anything, "I suggested we do Charlie's…I…Carlos he paid instead…I couldn't pay. I couldn't pay because all I had were ten bucks. All I had to my name were those same ten bucks, Abigail, ten," my voice breaks and to hell with it all, "Ten and a pile of money-grubbing bills! My job…it…it doesn't do anything…I had to go into survival mode…I had to pick up anything that was thrown at me. I picked up," I take one last look at her and the face says all that need to be said. She knows, "I've taken up street walking."
Personally, I don't know what hurts the most: the stinging sensation that radiates off my cheek after slap she just delivered or the repugnance written all over her face and absolute disappointment in her eyes. Either way, it hurt; emotionally and physically.
"You're a whore? I…I defended you! All those people…I…how?" she splutters like a fish out of water, "Have you no fucking shame? What is my ki-"
God, please forgive me for my sins. I slap her sending her head swaying to the side and back. Tears brim the eyes that so closely resemble Punk's and that alone infuriate me more. My intentions weren't because of her slut-shaming, I deserve it. The slap was because instead of a least bit of remorse or somewhere along those lines, all she recognized were the words "street walking" and nothing but those words.
"I am doing this for you and those children, who have no reason to be suffering the consequences of bad choices! You really think I enjoy letting my body be touched by slimy, grimy men for the fuck of it?" I dig into my pocket and take out whatever money is in my bra and throw it at her feet, "I am a whore, slut-shame me up and down the street but I get money. What do you get sitting on your ass all day?"
I pick up my shrunken dignity and strut out the room and into mine making sure the lock is set. No need for pity pleas for forgiveness. She'll spew them but still think ignorantly and alienate me.
Taking the liberty I've acquired, I dig under my panty drawer for an emergency bottle of authentic tequila and rip off my slinky dress. Lying on my back next to my bed, I look at the rocky texture of the ceiling and just blank out the world. To drink, one does not need to know anything but that they'll soon enter a happy place…or one filled with tears.
My brain has chosen the latter, a third of the way down the bottle of sin. Tear streams blemish my face as the drunken section of my dear old brain chooses to remember happy times with Noah. By some force of the devil, I've acquired my hand-carved pocket knife and rake it across the carpet wondering how it'd feel against my skin. I was a cutter once upon a time.
One slash is all it takes for me to pick up the habit that I long abandoned when Noah arrived on his white horse and I am curious by nature. I don't feel a thing. Maybe it's the booze in my system. The blade slits up the flesh near my forearms where all my other scars are. I was taught to not be ashamed of them. I am. The carotid ends it all, Marleene…
ΔΔΔΔ
Seven years ago…
-9:02p.m-
The day has come, the first Saturday after graduation. Not my own but Fannie's. The bitch has finally made it out of the system with all her sexual organs intact – I could shed a tear. This Saturday marks the official beginning of a string of back-to-back grad parties. Fannie has gotten herself invited to the grand slam of all, the kick-off party being held at some snooty white kid's open house, binders full of half-naked women and guys, and truckloads of booze.
Somehow, some way we got ol' Daddy's permission to enjoy the festivities…of course leaving out the important details and promising to be perfect – model even – citizens. What the old man doesn't know won't kill him. Of course, Uncle Vidal is on top of everything – he's young enough to attend if he wanted to.
Now, the most distressing part of tonight is picking out the perfect outfit. Fannie and I don't hold any jobs – don't look for them – and we couldn't find it in our little hearts to beg Pops for cash as we're close to broke.
Littered all over the floor is my entire side of the closet and maybe half of sister dearest's, "Choose something, gorda," she pesters, touching up the minimal makeup she's applied.
Contemplating stealing one of her flattering skirts, I choose one of my own plaid high-waist ones that'll match my mid-condition Maryjanes and a simple black tank. I thank the magic of high-waist for concealing my extra baby fat – hence the nickname "gorda".
A honk comes from our driveway and I quickly apply some eyeliner and fluff my hair before dashing down the stairs and giving Dad a goodnight kiss and a wink to my uncle. Opening the door, I find our awaiting carriage in the driveway…or the Brooks's crappy sedan that the kids jacked from right under their parent's noses.
"Let's go before Pops sees our designated drive," whispers my sister as she appears at my side.
Nodding in agreement, I saunter over to the car and sit shotgun and kiss the chauffeur who's none other than Mike. We've developed a friends with benefits thing – more of the benefit less of the friend.
"Hey chicky-babies!" I sing to the sisters, Elle and Mick who look divine.
"Let's just go!"
Mike revs the engine, reverses, and speeds off into the dark giving us all a thrill
-9:43p.m-
Cars drift past us as we pile out of the hunk of junk we arrived in. We're pretty fuckin' pumped except we've got a block of distance between Wonderland and ourselves.
"Alright, Marleene and kids, we've got 'till four before the folks figure out that we've hijacked their car," announces Mike as he puts an arm around my waist, "Twerps, please don't give me a reason to go home blue-balled, okay?"
Elle laughs sarcastically, "I still can't believe you…"
Micks tucks some hair behind her ear and shoots me a disapproving look, "You're really pushing boundaries, Mike…"
Ignoring the pending verbal brawl, I take in the plentiful houses on this street. All resemble each other in style and whatnot. Most have three cars in their driveway and spacious front lawns with kept green grass. This is West Fifty-first, the upper-class estates. This is where the pampered and privileged are born and raised. Being here makes a person from way down the economic ladder feel like their big shit. It's like entering through the gates of the White House.
Booming bass is becoming far more audible as we near our point of destination. The obnoxious chitter-chatter of kids looking for an unforgettable night and beginning of their week-end long festivities ring in my ears – we're surrounded by a swarm of bodies all trying to migrate up yonder. Already, the atmosphere is commencing to clog up from the toxic smell of bud. Six packs amongst twelves bang against thighs as they're rocked back and forth.
Biting my lip, I turn around to see what's going on with the girls. They're gossiping away and sharing their desires for tonight, "Fannie…" I whisper.
Mike pulls me onto the sidewalk and we starts stomping through the lawn where a sea of people are all gathering. Fannie shouts, "What?" rather annoyed.
Shaking out of Mike's grasp, I pull my older sister aside and whisper, "Don't go around making an ass out of yourself, okay? Remember, you have to be a big girl and defend yourself when somebody makes you uncomfortable."
She scoffs, "What are you? My mom?"
As she starts walking away, I drag her back and bitterly spit, "Pendeja, don't start that shit with me. I'm trying to look out for your ass!" she rolls her eyes which forces me to bring down the house, "Listen, hija, stop tryin' to act all hard – I know what goes down when the puto comes around, remember? I didn't almost go to juvie for nothing. Be conscious and be safe."
The incredulous look on her face contorts into a mix between rage and embarrassment. She opens her trap as if to say something but shrugs away my grip and power-walks into the house. Sighing, I head back to Mike.
-11:54p.m-
The party's in full swing. Talk about living rooms, that bitch could be a gym itself. The DJ spins, chops, and screws mixes bringing people into the inferno of clashing and grinding bodies, all of which have at least one dirty intention in mind. Some bitches have gone as far as standing atop tables and counters to strip for nothing but attention while guys enjoy their view from beer pong tables and over the top of their main squeeze's head. Forget about strobe lights, the disco ball that has woven in with the atmospheric smoke gives off the perfect party feel as people lay all over couches winding down to Molly, fix broken glass, or receive head.
Outside, it's total destruction. Fully clothed girls are dumped into, by the look of hardened nipples, freezing water as guys cannonball in. Crushed up beer cans and cups that held Purple litter virtually every square inch and maybe spill into the neighbor's lawn. A clan of douches have lit up a couple of tires building a bonfire. One would think that this is a college campus dorm party – not high schoolers gone wild.
A group of us have annexed a room in which we roll and spark up. We've been supplied with RX and don't plan on making any profits for the night.
"Has the 5-0 busted in yet?" inquires Joaquin stretching out on a bean bag.
Chucking a fresh dime bag at everyone in the room, Kirsten replies, "Don't know and I don't give a fuck!"
"Mike, you're rolling," I say as I drop down onto the comforter of the majestic king bed with a popped bottle of Hypnotic in hand.
-1:19p.m-
Gradually winding down from my euphoric state of mind, I welcome Mike's roaming hands over the expanse of my sensitized body not minding the four other souls in the body. Kirsten's languid moaning is an A-okay for us not to give a shit about their comfort level. The other two rabbits on the other hand have long passed out from their high.
"I wanna do you…so bad," breathes the hazel eyed boy into the crook of my neck.
Something about his breath caressing my skin evokes a giggle from somewhere inside my head, "Hm…?" I am too lifted.
The Brooks kid takes that as a signal to pursue his desire. He lays on top of me, inching up my skirt as his expert lips devour mine. While I am semi-aware of what's coming down, I don't intend on stopping. I may be young as shit but I feel better knowing that he has some experience under his belt. All that bull about waiting 'till marriage is a load – nobody wants a prude bitch.
-1:31a.m-
"Marleene…Marleene!"
Somebody, a girl, call out for me saving me from a near-blackout. I stop Mike in mid-thrust to listen more closely.
"Marleene, it's big!"
Pushing the boy off and out of me, I straighten out my skirt and lift up my top before stumbling out into the hall, "It's actually pretty small," I chuckle.
Hauling ass from down the hallway looking distressed, Micks berates me, "You dirty fucking bitch…quit your funnies! Your sister is-"
"A cunt bitch?"
Crazy-eyed, the distressed dirty blonde grabs my shoulders, "Earth to Marleene! Shut the fuck up and listen! Jack's girl, she roasted Fan in front of a crowd for having caught Jack trying to cop a feel!" at the end of every syllable, she gives me a shake for an extra measure which does nothing but disturb my stomach, "Come on, we ha-"
Desisting, I stand my ground, "I told that bitch…told her not to pull shit! Her problem. Now…now, let me go fuck…your brother," I shrug off her hands only to receive a balance breaking slap to the cheek, "The fuck?"
"It's your goddamn problem 'cus that bitch told the whole senior class that Fannie fucks her uncle!"
Double-taking, "Wait…what?"
"What you heard! The girl has barricaded herself inside the downstairs bathroom!"
Raging outwardly and inwardly, I kick a nearby vase and topple it over, "How the fuck did…? Goddamn! Take me to Fannie!"
-1:56a.m-
After stumbling all over the place in my drunken running spree and navigating through halls, stairs, and bodies, I finally stand in front of the bathroom where my dear ol' sis has confined herself. The current dilemma now is her ignoring my pleas for entry.
"Fannie Antonieta, habre la puta puerta!" I shout at the top of my lungs as nobody seems to see my struggle over the damn music, "Open the door, so help me Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…!" I rap on the door repeatedly, hoping that she'll get annoyed. No use, "I'm going to get in one way or another!"
Trying everything from begging to attempting to ram the bitch ass door down, I huff and puff before giving up. Various people have gathered around me; all of them needing to relieve themselves. A buff guy removes me and gets the job done himself.
Time after time, parents remind their offspring of the importance of school and being an educated individual. They say that everything we'll need in this life we'll learn at school. Well, the school's curriculum never included this…
A blood-curdling shrill emits from this mouth of mine. The reason being Fannie. Her body is slumped against the sink, discolored, with blood gushing from her neck and a bloodied straight-razor in a clasped hand. Her babydoll dress is tainted with the sanguine and it spreads. My knees give out from underneath me and I instinctively crawl to her and cradle her body. Part of me wishes that I'd paid attention in health class but nothing would've prepared me for such a scene.
"Fannie, honey, wake up!" I shriek, smacking her around to get her back into consciousness, "Wake up!" I hug her to my chest and cry, "Por que? Fan, why? Don't leave me!" my voice cracks from lack of breath, "I…I love you…Fannie, you bitch, come back…I love you so…" I shake her in hopes of having some sort of response. I swing around to face the gathered onlookers all owl-eyed in clear shock, "Y'all motherfuckers just gonna stand there? You bitches…you did…this!" I scream, "Call 911!"
-2:03a.m-
Feels like a minimum of ages before paramedics arrive on scene, along with a flurry of cops and shit. People have dispersed like cattle, trying to save their freedom. I still clutch Fannie's lifeless body without so much as a blink. Her blood has soaked through my shirt but I don't mind, not at all.
Sitting there, as medics and such incoherently speak to me, I question the cruelty of humanity. What kind of person outs a victim of such a despicable act? Why did God allow this to happen? Fannie was my sister…most importantly, my mother.
ΔΔΔΔ
Dropping the razor as if having a twitch, I shrivel up into fetal position and allow my pent up tears to come down. This isn't the way to resolve problems – no matter how difficult. Had Fannie known that, maybe she would've made it out alright. Been somebody, been a surgeon like she'd always dreamt of. Maybe she would've made me a better person.
Holding myself and shooing away thoughts and flashes, I allow my eyes to get some rest.
A/N- There was a suicide epidemic. Suicide is a serious thing. If anyone is ever contemplating know that you're loved - you can find a friend in me, even. Thank you for the support and sorry for errors.