Lada

              The Night Job: Lada

 

              The night is so dark, I look up and the night clouds are settling ever so slightly over the full moon.  Me dressed in the trashy little outfit you bought for me to wear for the nights work. I try to pull the dark denim skirt down my legs, and the cut up t-shirt over the scars on my back. Once I get the tiny fabric to cover my body in a manner, you turn around and smack me, yell at me to put it back. I want to run away from you, run as fast as I can. I think I could make it, if it weren't for these heels you have shoved me in tonight. My feet are hurting because of them, we are nearly to the alley know. This may not be my first time on my "night job" but the blood never slows as it races through my body. My adrenaline pulses fast through my veins, I feel I should faint as we near closer to the dark corner into my awaiting hell. The state of my vision seems to be getting worse as I began to drift off, then before I know it a cold hand lands on my face. My reflexes react, my hand pops to the blow and a tear trickles from my eye. I suck it up before you deliver to me another hand. I began to stand straight and follow closely behind you down the sidewalk. 

                The sidewalks are lined with dirty papers and trash, I feel like I belong there. Just floating in the wind down the road, so forgotten. Or maybe I belong with my face in one of those MISSING signs that are either on the ground by my feet, or thickly layered on top of each other on the side road poles. I wonder if you would even care enough to waste the time printing my face out, well I suppose you would. For without me you have no sweet mind dulling dope that you love, or your bitter whiskey you swig from the bottle as we walk down the desolate roads. You wouldn't have that without me, or without the men that come so amply to trade me off. There trash for yours, you know what they say. Another mans trash is another mans treasure. I am your trash their treasure, that is how it works I should believe. 

                 We turn into the corner, you sway drunkly to your side. I try to prop you back up, you just push me away. Embarrassing is it, to need the small girl to your side need to prop you up so. You try to stand straight, professional. I don't see why you need to, none of these men are. Not like they care about you, only the small piece of meat following closely behind you. Like a scared little tramp following the big dog, in hope it may throw them a bone. Still scared the big dog should make the price larger for the prize. There are more young tramps behind their big dogs to my side. Dressed in the same clothes, wearing the same frightened faces, watching with the same hopeless eyes as there pimp pushes them to the open arms of these strange men. 

       "Return er in un hour," the pimp says in a crackly voice as he smokes a large regal cigarette. The man puts his arm around the young girl and hands the pimp some money. 

        "I'll have er back in two," the man says in a strangled voice, he is obviously extremely drunk. It is dark but the alley lights hit his distinct features perfectly so. He has a long bridged nose, and long face and dark wispy brown hair. He is an unfortunate looking man I could say. His eyes are small, his lips are thin and blend to his pale complexion. The girl in his arms, she is a pretty. Thick curly long cherry red hair hangs over her face. Her bangs are long and cover her frightened eyes. She is taller, maybe 5'8 or 5'9. She has a nice figure to her. She really is beautiful, I try to shut my mind to what should happen to her. What should happen to me.

       Just standing there in the alley makes me cold, and these clothes do not cover me properly for a cold night like this. I can feel the goose bumps on my arms and legs. Your large coat covers you well, you hold my mangled sweater in your arms. I do not think it would help much to put it on anyway, the buttons are all tore off from recent times. The sweater is like what I am to you to me, trash. It belongs in the garbage that I am leaning onto for support. So as I don't fall over into a much needed sleep. The minutes that feel like hours pass slowly. I began to feel optimistic that I may be able to go home without being sold to one of the men here in downtown. What luck would that be, only I know you would not leave without your precious *s**t or at least money for it. As I watch your eyelids slowly near closer to each other I give hope to myself that maybe we will leave tonight without me being traded.

*S**t = drugs

       “You open for a trade?" A man says staggering up closer to you and me. He is only a couple inches taller than my 5'6 height. As he gets closer I can more specifically point is features out. His eye color is dark, his hair a deep chocolate brown. It is thick and lays casually on his head, his skin is also darker. More of a russet tan skin tone, he is muscular and well built overall. He was eyeing me down like a juicy dog treat, smiling while he talked to you. Did you notice that? The way he looked at me, it scared me more than it usually does. It made my adrenaline pulse faster, I began to sweat in the frigid air, and shake but not because of the cold. 

       "Mmmmm, depends on the price you offer," you say in an attempted professional tone. The man looks me over again, like choosing whether he wants rare or well done in his steak,

       "I'll give ya," he pauses and looks me over again, " one hundred final offer no negotiating bout it," 

       "Fine..." you say as you shove me into the mans arms. His hands are extremely cold and he grips me tight around my arm with them.

       "Yous look nice pumpkin," I can smell the ripe stench of alcohol on his breath. I wrinkle my nose and cough on the air he has stunk up with his breath. I don't even think to answer him. He rubs his finger on my cheek, I went to slap it away. But I know that would only mean I get hit back. "Aw what’s the matter lady babe you bits grumpy today," I still don't answer, just look up at him and his drunken expression, his foggy eyes that are looking down on me. "You not gonna tells me are ya babe?" his eyes get fake with sympathy. "Aw can't ya tell me what’s wrong, I wont bite," She gives me a crooked smile and leans in closer to me face. I lean ever so slightly away from him as he comes closer. He jerks back up. "Ya know babe, I donna think this as gonna work if you donna cooperate with me. Now don't you agree?" He says leaning in closer to me and smiling, he grabs my chin and kisses me on the cheek. "So why done you get in the car?" He opens a door of an old red rusted 1967 mustang with cracked leather seats and a stolen stereo with the wires hanging all over.

       I slide myself into the passengers seat and tense up immediately like I do every time I get in a mans car. He walks over to the drivers seat, opens the door gets in and casually turns on the ignition. 

        "Yous know your a very beautiful women he said as he eyes the road," I still don't answer him, I just look out the darkly tinted windows and adjust my self on the seat. "Well, ya gonna answer me. Ya know I have yet to here that beautiful voice of yours," he raises his eyebrows and reaches his hand over towards mine. I hopelessly leave my hand my side for him to take. What am I supposed to do, anything I could do would be hopeless. I am in This 1967 hell and I have no way to get out. I am in hell with one of the devils own personal demons himself. Hell, walking straight through hell.... the only thing is I can't find no way out. I got in, so how do I get out of it. Maybe out is closed, maybe there is no way out anymore. 

       "Just say somethin real quick for me baby, just one thing," He grips my hand and looks at me as we are stopped by the red light.

       Well for one your breath smells as putrid as this red metal death trap of yours, you could really use a shower about know because you smell like a monkeys a*s, and could you get your dirty greasy hand off my thigh and let me just get the hell away from you? I would say a lot more of coarse, if I did say all I want to that would pretty much just mean I actually wanted to be pushed out of a moving vehicle and then beaten because you didn't get the other half of your one hundred.

       So I turn to him and  say "I'm Lada," and then simply turn back slowly towards the window. He lets go of my hand and grabs a strand of my hair. He slowly starts to twirl it around his fingers. 

       "Wasn't so hard now was it? Lada, what a pretty name. For such a pretty girl," I can feel him make that crooked juicy meat staring smile behind my back. "Isn't that right Lada?" he says still pawing my hair.

       "Yes, so so true," I say turning and giving him a smile.

       "Mmmmm, so pretty you are. Worth the cash to," He was a jerk, as if that was not already evident. 

       He chugs the mustang up to a blue house that smells strongly of cigarettes and some other drug. The paint on the house is peeling off the shutters on the windows and garage door is hanging off its hinges. He stands out of the car and lifts up the garage door, and walks into his house. I began to follow him as he shuts the door to the inside. I look into his house, it smells even worse know. There are cigarette buds and beer bottles strewn everywhere. I hear the shower turn on and the door open then shut. I place my hand on the knob and breath in heavily, just as I am about to walk in I think I something. He left the keys in the car, I could run. Full tank of gas, money in my purse, key in the ignition. I could run away and never have to see him or you again. 

       So I walk away from the house and to my red beat up escape. My adrenaline is pulsing through my veins, and it feels like time is speeding up with every step. I hurry to the drivers seat and tug the door open. The leather seat sits far away from the steering wheel, I try to push it up but it wont budge. As soon as I get I get it smacks up against the wheel of the car. I push it back and sit in the bucket seat, and then I hear the water stop. The door of the shower opens and closes. I quickly turn the ignition on but it wouldn't go. It just makes a loud chugging sound. I turn the key harder and slap my head against the wheel. The man is at the door know, an angry look lay across his face. 

       "What the hell are you doing!”? He yells as he opens and slams the door. He begins to run out towards me in the car. I am frozen, I feel like I am in one of those horror movies. Where the girl is watching the serial killer run after her, chainsaw in hand and she is just standing there with that frightened look on her face. Mean while you are sitting there yelling at the TV screen, RUN, HE IS GONNA GET YOU RUN!!!! In the end she runs to late and is chopped in little pieces, only to be seen the next day on the channel 7 news. 

       Just as I slam the door shut I fumble to find the lock so I can get the car started and drive away. He is at the door know, pounding on the window trying to get it open. My weak arms are nothing against his and he opens the door quickly. I try to jump to the back seat of the car and get out of there, but he grabs my leg in the last minute. I try to let out a scream as I hold on for dear life to the cup holder on the back door. He tears me off of the door and grabs me by the waist, placing a cold hand over my mouth. I try to bite him but he has me know, he could probably out run me if I even did get the chance to run. I begin kicking my legs, but stop because it is a waste of energy, and it didn't help anything.

        Last thing I remember, or at least want to remember was him hanging over me as I lay on the bed in the middle of the dark room. The only light came shining in from a small opening in the curtains in the bathroom window. Everything was so dark and there he was just hanging over me, that crooked meaty smile still on his face. My hands tied to the beaten headboard, feet hung over the bed as he leans in for a kiss. My body lain limp on the bed, my eyes closed trying to think of something happy, a failed attempt to pass the painful time.

                                   ***

       Know here I am sitting in your large black Toyota truck. You are just sitting there in the drivers seat, probably thinking about the next time you will take me out into hell. Not really caring about the unspeakable thing that just adds to my s****y life story of my visit to hell. I could send you a postcard if you would like, or maybe you could just come visit me at home or in the alley. My recommendation is you take the postcard and pass on the vacation. Trust me its not really that great of a place to visit, I suppose you might have heard. Just take the advice and run like hell as far as you can, I wish I could.

       I am still just looking out the window of the car, trying to fall asleep. I can't when your driving though, I might never wake up if I tried that. Your eye lids are already drifting closer together, you swerve to the sides of the road drunkly. So I prop my head against the window and watch the scenery move by slowly and wait for two-hour drive with you, Satan, to be over. 

       I began to wonder; we are all in hell aren't we. Some of us are just really good at pretending we aren't. So we are all pretty happy, but were in hell. You can't pretend your not forever, something has to happen sometime that reminds us that we are all still living in this hell. Maybe, just maybe we can get back from it. Go back to just pretending, until something happens again. No matter what, things aren't perfect in hell. Trapped in this everlasting fire, this place of torment, bottomless pit, Hades fire, hell. WELCOME TO HELL, O' yes what a good doormat, or maybe I could send you a postcard that has a picture of the alley, with a big sign hanging from the entrance. Perfect...

        I slam the door behind me and run quickly in my house so no one will see me like this. I slam the door behind me and don't care that you are still in the car. I am in my room know, I have ran out of tears but I am still sad, angry, feeling hatred towards... everything. When I go down stairs I pass by your room, mom just sitting there on the bed staring at the wall. Probably wishing she could run into it and disappear forever. I will gladly come with her if I could. I stand looking at her through the crack in the door, looking at the hole in the wall from the anger you cannot control. Or the scars on my skin from the delusions of your mind, the bruises across moms face, the tears that slowly trickle down her pale porcelain face. I creak the door open slightly and walk over to the bed, giving her a stranger’s hug. She doesn't hug me back, I know she would. If she wasn't married to Satan maybe she would know what it was, what I was doing, that it was out of love. I walk down the stairs, hand tightly gripped on the railing. There you are like always, sitting there smoking the s**t I have provided for you. I wish I could break the wall like you have done, punch your face, make you ugly, and give you ugly. Show you hell. Just give you a short summary of my life. 

       You have left your marks in the kitchen as well, I open the fridge with the dented door to a dozen bottles of beer. I look around at the kitchen door with the broken glass window, or the cabinets that are missing their door. I feel so done with living in this hell. I want to break something, I can't express my ANGER. I can't tell you how I feel, how much hate I am holding inside myself. I want to scream.

       I simply walk outside into our small backyard and look up at the large twinkling sky of the night. The clouds are gone and the full moon shines its light down on me. I wish I could go up there, I wish I could just see what it is like. What I want is to have someone, to love, and love me. A guardian angel. Someone to pick me up when I am low, to dry my tears when they fall. Heal the scars that not only mark my skin with memories, but also cut my heart in so many parts. To find my soul that has been stolen from me, so brutally stolen. To just... LOVE me. To hold me softly forever, and never let go. I wish I could have somebody to talk to, and just listen to me without speaking. Just listen, and understand me. I wish I could stop pretending, I wish I could start over my life, I wish you weren't my dad, I wish I wasn't me, I wish I could just.... die. Just go somewhere and wait for my end, slowly just wait for the end of me. I want so much, and I have no way to get it.

       I walk over to the small wooden table and lay on the top looking up at the stars. Closing my eyes, just trying to forget about everything. I try to close my eyes harder and harder as if it could help me forget, stop seeing what is burnt into my mind. 

       "Lada," Yells Chris from his bedroom window, I open my eyes to see his large smile across his face. His eyes are twinkling, I can see that twinkle even in the dark of the night. I” What you doin up so late?" 

        "I don't know, what are you doing up so late," I smile lightly back up at him

       "Can't sleep," he swings his leg through the window and rests it on a large tree branch. A couple moments later his feet have touched the ground and he is smiling at me from the other side of the fence. "I saw you where up, and saw you out here," He look up at the stars then back at me and shrugs his shoulders.

        I pick myself up from lying down and lower myself on to the bench of the table. "You can come over the fence if you want," I say looking back up at the sky. 

       Chris hops over the fence and sits next to me on the bench, "What you lookin at?"

       "Nothing,"

       "Doesn't look like nothin," he says nudging me lightly

       i flinch slightly at the touch and give him a smile "The sky, the stars, the moon,"

        " Ah, well i told you," I give him a confused look, "I mean I told you, that you weren't looking at just nothing," I roll my eyes and rest my chin on my arm.

       "So why are you up so late?" I ask him still starring up at the sky

        He sits there silent for a while, looking at the sky. "If you listen you can here it," 

       "Here what?" I say looking at his face. He is handsome, I wonder why I have never noticed. Those green emerald eyes and dark charcoal hair that lies across his face like waves.  When the wind blows they move gently like they really are waves on the beach. His prefect lips a light pink on his smooth face, his jaw is broad and makes his smile look large and genuine. 

       "Just listen," I listened, although I really had no idea what I was listening to. I heard a faint sound of birds singing, tree branches rustling in the wind, I heard Chris's light breaths, my heavy heart beat, and I heard the sound of a bottle crash from Chris's house.

       "O'. So... she starting again?" 

       "Not recently, she started awhile ago, its getting more serious know. She knows how angry it makes my dad, how ashamed he is to have a drunk as a wife. He can't control himself though; he won’t just get her help. No matter how much I tell him she needs it he just doesn't listen to me. He gets angry and says we can pull this together, she will get better Chris she has before."

       "Well she has gotten better a couple times hasn't she?"

       "Lada... my mom started drinking when I was five years old. I have never known anything different, you know why? It's because she never really stopped, maybe for a couple months ya, but what does that matter when she just starts up again and it is ten times worse then the last time. Besides even when she isn't drinking she is suffering from relapse, throwing up, always sleeping, she is weak, and she looks just terrible. She never spends time with dad or me when she is like that. That just makes my dad angrier... I try to help her, I really do. I try to take the booze away, or only give it to her in small amounts so just maybe she could " Chris just looked up at the sky to, I could feel how much he hurt how much his heart ache, and I could see the twinkle in his eyes die a little bit. It was still there though, it never really left.

       "I'm sorry..." so what else could I say? I wish I could say something that would make him feel better but I didn't have anything to offer. So we sat silent there for a while, just looking up at the sky and probably both thinking about everything and how we where totally helpless...

        "Lada?"

       " Ya Chris,"

        "You think she will ever get better.... I mean my mom. You think she will stop? The truth please Lada.... what do you think?" Chris said looking at me with a hopeful expression

       "Chris.... I wish I could tell you I knew the answer to that one, and honestly I don't know what the truth is either..." I paused for a moment thinking what to say next, "honestly I don't think anyone knows what will happen to your mom, and to be honest with you I do not think anything you can do will help her. I think that’s up to her, not you or your dad and keep that alcohol away from her. She will find away, like you said she has before. Chris I don't know if she will ever get better, I guess for know we can only hope she will. Destiny will choose its coarse I suppose," I don't know if what I said was right, I don’t think it brought any comfort to Chris... but he did ask for the truth. Well he got it right?

       "You believe in destiny Lada?"

       "What you mean?"

 

       “Well you talk about destiny picking my moms future. You really believe that we all a future that is supposed to happen? Like we don’t have a choice? Everything that happens is just… destiny, and we have no say in it… we can’t change it or do anything about it?” Chris looked at me with a serious expression, I was probably looking at him with a lost one. I wasn’t sure how to answer his question, I didn’t really think I had an answer for that one anyway.

 

       “That’s a hard question Chris… I don’t know if we all have a chosen path lain out for us from the beginning. I guess sometimes it feels like it though… like we have no choice in anything that happens to us. I don’t know if I believe in destiny, I mean I suppose we all have some kind of choice… I don’t know Chris,” I looked him, looked into his eyes as he forced a smile across his face.

 

“I don’t know either…”

 

Chris and I just kind of sat there for a while looking up at the sky, it was comforting in some way for me. To look up at the sky, to look at the stars twinkling above me. I didn’t think about much really, just kind of sat there, maybe I thought a little bit about destiny. And maybe that this was mine, that maybe this was just how it was all supposed to be. Maybe we are all kind of just reading our own book in a way. With each word and sentence, each chapter we don’t know what will happen next. Even though it is all there, already written out for us, we don’t know what will be the next chapter in our life. Then when we do read it, and we don’t like it we still can’t change it because its just destiny…. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. That doesn’t make sense though does it? I mean no matter what happens to us in life we all have a choice, and I know that is the truth. We all have a choice and the choice we make can change everything in our future… so wouldn’t that mean destiny doesn’t exist? That we do have a say in our future… that there is nothing like destiny controlling us?

 

 

“Get your a*s in here right know Lada!” you yelled from inside the kitchen, “What the hell do you think your doing, its four 0’clock in the morning!”  You yelled again tripping over your own feet as you walked away. Chris looked up and me and stood up from the table.

 

       “Well goodnight then….”

 

       “Ya… goodnight try to sleep tonight okay?”

 

       “Ya maybe… you to okay? Its that light of yours that is always keeping me up at night,” he said smiling a little bit.

 

        I smiled lightly back at him walking slowly towards the door, I turned around and saw him already climbing up to his window. I walked inside the house past you, I almost go past you up the stairs before you called me.

 

       “Get down her you little b***h,” you scowled from the downstairs. I continued walking up the stairs toward my bedroom ignoring your drunkard words. “What the hell do you think your doing?” you yell as I continue walking, I hear your heavy footsteps behind me, closer than I thought you take my hair and yank it back. “I told you to come to me, what the hell do you think your doing walking away from me without a word! I am your father and you will listen to me when I speak to you-“ he stops as a slap him hard on the face leaving a few bleeding scratches on my face from my nails.

 

       “I HATE YOU!” I scream as I run into the bathroom to lock the door. I hear your angry footsteps coming up the hallway. I already regret what I did, I cannot even fathom that I actually hit my father… I am scared know. I know he will get me. There is no escape know and he will get me somehow, and it will hurt oh it will hurt. Tears start to well in my eyes as you bang on the door yelling crude things, kicking and bashing the door you continue on. In a sense of hopelessness and delusion I sit on the door and curl my self into a ball… and open the door for you. I figure there is no sense waiting for the pain to start, I mine as well get it over with and just feel the pain.

 

       So you angrily grab my arms and throw me into the wall, coming up to me and lain on the floor and kick my stomach yelling and cursing at me. You kick me again, and pick me up carrying me towards the stairs. Throw me on the floor and kick me again, edging me closer to the stairs. Every time you kick me I can feel each separate jab of pain touch my sensitive skin, no sounds come out as you kick my ribs I can feel each painful touch to my stomach and I choke on my own breath each time you deliver me a blow. As I hang on to the edge of the top stair you deliver me one last blow that sends me over the edge tumbling down the stairs. I can hear mom’s loud sobs from the bedroom as I crash down the each twenty steps down to he cold hard ground. Each step gives me a different pain to worry about adding onto the other. I can’t conscious the pain as my limp body crashes down on the cold oak wooden floors. Light tears fall slowly from my face as I wrap my arms around my aching ribs. My arms are weak and feeble against my stomach, I hear you heavily stomp down the stairs toward me, crashing your fist on the wall you kick me again as you tie my hand to the stair well with the familiar black leather belt. There is nothing to guard my defenseless body know, know I can only hope the time will pass quickly. That maybe somehow the pain could just stop, and I could feel no longer. No longer feel the blows that send spikes of pain like needles through my body. Like cold ice icles plummeting down on me, I feel like I am being pellated with a hundred hailstones, or being attacked by an insane bear. The pain makes my body numb and I curdle at every touch. Tears flow from my eyes rapidly know, I feel as if this pain will never stop. Feel like your anger is endless and will forever be taken out on me. I want to scream for someone to get me out of here, I want to scream mercy, o’ how I just want out of this life I have been living for so long…

 

       The pain has come to an end, but has left its evident marks. The bruises along my stomach, legs, and arms are obvious. The black and purple bruises give my skin a pail and cold appearance. An ugly appearance, as I lightly touch the colored skin on my body I remember how I got them and flinch away from the sensitive touch. Tears trickle lightly from my eyes and land on my soaked sheets. I try to lie down into a comfortable position, on to my stomach, my back, my sides, but nothing works. Each breath hurts me miserably, I try to breath as lightly as possible or try not to breath at all. Every time I let out a light breath of air my bones suffer the consequences and give my body a quick painful sensation. So I lie on my back for half the night looking up at my cream colored ceiling looking for pictures in the paint. I feel like such a child lying hopelessly in my bed crying, looking for pictures in the wall. Looking for something that is not even there.

 

                                   ***

 

       The morning comes slowly as I awake from a sleepless night. I force my self to stand up and nudge open the window to feel the gentle touch of the suns rays on my cheeks. The air is cool on my skin and it feels nice, I sit there for a while feeling relaxed just feeling the soft heat caress my aching skin. I could feel the grease collecting in my hair as I stroked my fingers threw my thick brown hair pushing it out of my face. Grabbing a towel from the floor I head towards the bathroom to take a shower, locking the door I turn on the water and wait for it to get hot. I slowly remove my clothes slowly and easily careful not to do anything that would hurt me. I turn around and look at my ravaged body in the dirty mirror. Looking at the large bruises that mark my body, a large one the size of softball, maybe bigger, and pans itself across my ribs. Without thinking I put a hand on it and flinch as the bruised skin begins to burn. I look down at my wrists where the leather belt has left a purple bruise as well as a red rash that burns to even the slightest of touches. I stand there looking at my discolored body and ugly markings. I look at even the scars from other times, from night I wish not to remember. From this life I wish could just be over, that’s all I think of when I look at myself. All I think of is when will this be over, how soon? O’ god I hope very soon, that’s all I think about…

 

       The steam fogs over the mirror hiding my nasty reflection, I carefully step into the shower and let the warm droplets cover my skin. The water caresses over my bruises and scars making my whole body feel at ease. I edge myself slowly down and sit on the floor of the shower, plugging the drain so the water slowly feels up. I lay my head back onto the sides of the tub and feel the water as it rises higher relaxing my whole body. It lifts my arms up gently as they float on the top of the warm water and it rises higher. Covering my stomach and slowly rises above my breasts. The water from the shower still trickles down onto my skin, I rise up and shut it off laying back down into the still water. Closing my eyes as I listen to the still silence in the air around me. Running my hands over my stomach feeling the bumps and bruises with my fingertips, I relax down into the water know. Edging lower so the waters surface licks at my lips. How easy it could be to end everything right here in this small white bowl, just sulk lower and wait a few minutes for everything to be over. I lower my head down lower into the water as I think about the thought, the surface of the water begins to flood my nose and cover my eyes. I lie there for a while in the warm peaceful water. I can feel surges inside of me as I am gasping for air, I try to press myself down under the water, keeping myself from coming up.

      

       Suddenly jerking my body up at the sound of the loud bangs on the bathroom door. Damn it I think to myself, not yet really knowing if maybe that was a good or bad thing. Hear you yell at me to shut the water off, telling me I have been in there long enough. I silently stare up at the dry shower nozzle rolling my eyes as I unplug the drain and lift myself up out of the tub. Wrapping the towel around me I walk to my bedroom down the hall, closing the door behind me. Drying my body off and opening my drawer to search for the days attire, moving the kinky outfits out of the way looking for something descent to wear. I must have gone through a hundred outfits in that one hour. I wouldn’t blame my mirror for just shattering, its been so over worked from its daily morning work of watching me try on millions of outfits to find the one that covers my scars in just the right way, or isn’t to tight on my breasts, the one that doesn’t make my but look to big. Finally settling on a pair of dark denim skinny jeans with a black tank top, carefully choosing a gray and purple jacket to cover my bruises.

 

       I open my window the only window in my room that actually opens, of coarse the one that looks straight to the wall of another house, straight into a window of someone else. So I open the window as a gentle breeze flows into my room giving it some oxygen. I sit at the small bench that is placed in between the indention in the wall where the window is, grabbing book and a bottle of my favorite black nail polish from OPI. Aw isn’t it nice when books are used to place your hands on while applying nail polish in order not to create a stain. Ha, well for most girls that are pretty much what a book is for Ha. I look down at the ground under me, thinking that the only thing separating the asphalt and me is this thin black screen. I place my hand on The Da Vinci Code and begin applying the nail polish.

 

       “You look nice,” I hear Chris say from across the small space between us. I finish my last finger and close the cap to the “midnight” nail polish.

 

       “Thank you, you look...” I looked him over for a moment. He was shirtless, showing off his muscular chest, and toned abs, and large arms. He wore a faded blue jean on the bottom, you could see his red and black plaid boxers worn under his slightly sagging jeans. His black hair hung over his eyes gently, his red lips formed a large smile across his perfectly chiseled face.

 

       He smiled and laughed slightly, “No comment, I kinda just woke up,” He said looking at me grabbing black and blue shirt off his bed.

      

       “No, you look nice too,” I said smiling back at him

 

       “Aw well thanks, I know that might have been hard for you”

 

       “Your such a geek,” I said throwing a pencil across the way trying to reach his window.

 

       He raised one eyebrow at me and smirked a little as the pencil hit about five feet under the window and six feet away from the house, falling down to the green grass below, “I don’t know…. Was that supposed to hit me?” he smirked at me still, the twinkle in his eyes, I could see that even from my window.

 

       I stuck my tongue at him, I grabbed the nail polish remover and took the black nail polish off every other finger. I grabbed a hot pink, orange, and blue nail polish from my make-up box. Carefully arranging the colors in no particular order. Once I was done I puckered my lips out and blew gently on my fingers to dry them. Turning towards the window again, I saw Chris leaving his bedroom, a piece of paper taped to his window.

 

MEET ME AT PARK :)

 

     It said written in large blue letters. I smiled at the note and threw the bottles of polish in my box. Walking down the hall and peaking into your bedroom, looking at you dead asleep with your face stuck on the pillow. I shut the door and tip toed down the stairs, careful not to wake you. Once I got to the bottom I crept into the kitchen to find mom working on your breakfast, I grab a blueberry pop tart from the cupboard, told mom where I was going, and walk out the door down the driveway. I walked down the sidewalk past the houses, wondering how many of the neighbors heard me scream last night. Wondering why the hell no one has ever even thought to call the 911. I keep walking the short walk to the park, watching my purple converse take turns moving. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Finally reaching the entrance of the park I look around for Chris, I walk towards the jungle Jim and notice another piece of paper taped on the slide. I climb up to where it is and take it down.  

 

Ill meet u at the swings, meet me there :)

P.s. burn after reading

 

         I role my eyes and stuff the note into the pocket of my jacket, heading over to the swings that are located all the way across the park. Once getting there I rest myself on a yellow swing, removing my socks and shoes I began pushing myself back and forth, nestling my feet in the warm sand.

      

       “Hey,” Chris says coming to push my back lightly; I jerk up out of the swing quickly before he can push me in the swing, before he can wrap his hands around my fresh bruises. He gives me a light smile and walks up to me spreading out his arms. He still stands and little bit away from me, just looking at me with a small frown on his face.

 

       I walk into his arms wrapping mine around his waist loosely, he does the same and lightly wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry Lada….” I don’t say anything to him, just keep myself in his hug. “Lada… you know how hard it is for me to listen to you scream like that…” He paused and unwrapped his arms that where around me. He took my hand and walked me over to the bench shaded by a large tree. He sat down on the bench and pulled me down with him. “Lada, you know how hard it is. If it was anyone I would be pissed… but Lada you’re my best friend. Hearing your dad talk to you like that… and hearing you scream…” He grabbed my hand again and looked up at me with sincere eyes.

      

       “Chris, I’m sorry I asked you to do that for me, I’m sorry I told you not to do anything. Not to call the cops, or tell anyone… and thank you for keeping that promise,”

 

       “Lada, how could you thank me for that? How could you have ever asked me that? How could you make me promise that? I don’t know how much longer I can do it… I’m not being a friend to you by keeping this hidden.”

 

       “Chris I am telling you, this has been going on for my whole life. Sense I was eight years old, and the first time you called the cops what did they do? They did nothing Chris, the cops aren’t going to take my word for it this time either. My dad is just going to say the same thing.”

 

“We need to get her therapy I know, her experimenting with drugs and alcohol isn’t healthy for her. The things she does to herself… I can’t stand it, and I will do anything it takes to help my daughter. Please believe this isn’t me doing this.”

 

 

        I paused thinking about that day in court when I was twelve years old, “And my mom… she is scared shitless of my dad, you know she wouldn’t support the charges I put on him. She would back him up just like last time!”

      

       “Well what about me, I will support the charges. I could be a witness!” Chris raises his voice at me with pleading eyes.

      

       “Get real Chris, I mean you know what my dad will say, you will turn into my druggie friend. You wont be anything more than that, the judge isn’t going to believe two crazy teens…”

       “Maybe if you tried again Lada, it worth a shot. Maybe this one will believe you, believe us! Please Lada… I can’t hear you scream like that again…” I could see the hurt in Chris’s eyes, he looked into mine as if he was pleading for me to do something. As if he cared. As if he cared… about me.

 

***