L. Jacobs's Blog - Posts Tagged "possessive"
Lashing Out- Chapter 1
Part 1
Chapter 1
Drew
“Drewsie, Momma’s going to go out for a little bit. You have to stay with Daddy for a while, okay?” He’s not my Daddy, I want to tell her once again, but I keep my head down, concentrating on coloring within the lines of my picture instead. I know there’s no amount of pleading that will keep her here, no amount of begging when she and Leroy need their fix. I can tell by the sounds alone that she’s shifting uncomfortably and scratching at her skin as if it might contain some of the white powder she loves so much. “Did you hear me, baby?”
“Yeah.” I whisper, grabbing the red crayon to color in the nose of the ugly clown. I hear her sigh then she’s kneeling beside me, running a hand over the back of my head in a gesture meant to comfort. It doesn’t. Not when she knows what could happen to me when if she leaves, her love for me only extends to the point of withdrawal.
“I’m a bad Momma, baby boy,” I hate it when she calls me a baby, I’m almost 5 years old, I’m not a baby anymore. “I’ll tell you what, as soon as I get home you and I are going to play a game!” She says in a shakily cheerful voice that gains my attention and springs a small sliver of hope into my chest.
“What kind of game?” I ask quietly, searching her sweaty, pale face.
“Anything you want, Drewsie -anything- just stay here and color until I get back. We’re going to have so much fun!” I smile at her then, just a small one that can’t be helped while thinking of all the stuff we could do. She pokes one of the dimples in my cheek, her matching dimples deepening when her smile becomes genuine.“Okay?”
“Okay.” I nod quickly. She stands then, giving me one last look over her shoulder. “Remember to keep real quiet, baby.” She blows me a kiss before she steps out of my small room, closing the door behind her. I wonder briefly how she thinks we’ll get away with playing a game with Leroy at home, maybe she’ll get him some of those small white pills that always put him to sleep, a bomb could go off in the apartment and he wouldn’t wake up when he takes those. I wonder if he’d be able to taste it if I crushed it up and put it in his drink sometimes?
I’m surprised when I hear my door open after a while, I haven’t made a sound. I don’t turn toward it, my hand stops coloring though and I feel my skin grow colder with each step that he moves closer, his breathing loud in the sparse room.
“Momma always has to check with her little pussy of a son before she goes out, doesn’t she? Does she make sure you don’t need a tit before she leaves?” I swallow so loudly that I’m afraid he can hear it, he hears everything. “I’m talking to you, Drewsie!” He draws out my name, mocking the endearment that only Momma calls me. I shake my head quickly but it’s too late, with a hand to the back of my head he pushes my face into the table so hard that pain bursts across my nose and mouth and I immediately taste the blood from my lip. It hurts but my fear outweighs the pain so I clamp my mouth shut when he pulls me back by my hair, my nose pulling in air with shorts puffs as I look up at his monstrous form. Thick, black hair curls in sweaty waves around his ugly face, his big eyebrows set in a threatening scowl over nearly black eyes as he looks down on me with nothing but hatred. A hatred that no nearly 5 year old has ever earned. “You’re fucking useless,” he sneers. I feel warm, thick wetness drip down my face from my nose and I focus my attention on the drip as it slides over my bloodied lip. “A drain on all of my goddamned money!” He roars, his lip curling in disgust. The drip has become a drop and it’s pooling below my chin. All I can think about is that I have a white shirt on, how it’s going to stain my white shirt if it falls then Momma’s going to have to clean it. “How am I supposed to make ends meet when I’m paying for all your fucking shit?” He shakes me violently.
The blood drops from my chin. I can practically feel it blooming out, the thick, red liquid settling into every stark white fiber of the cotton. If Momma can’t get the blood out then he’ll hurt her bad… unless his anger is focused elsewhere.
I feel something snap inside of me at the realization, my fear giving way to an angry numbness that nearly turns my vision black with it’s intensity. I have to protect my Momma.
I lower my eyes from his brows, looking into his bloodshot gaze for the first time in as long as I can remember.
“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” His eyes grow round in shock at my use of Momma’s words when she’s angry and he’s asleep. “Maybe if you were a real man you wouldn’t need to hit a woman half your size and a little boy who can’t fight back.” My usage of bad words seems to stun him, he blinks with each word and I feel a split second of victory before I’m thrown down to his feet. I don’t even feel it when my head hits the floor, I don’t hear his words as he repeatedly kicks me, I don’t smell the stench of his breath when he screams into my face… but I see it when Momma runs in carrying a long knife. I see it when she lifts the handle and stabs him in the back once then twice, I see him roar in rage then turn on her, grabbing the knife from her tiny, fragile hand before he shoves her into a wall and I see it as if everything is in slow motion as he turns the blade on her, impaling her stomach with it over and over again. I scream for her but nothing comes out, I can’t breath right, I can’t help her. She falls to the floor just a few feet from me, her mouth gaping as she tries to say something that wont come out of her blood stained lips. I watch helplessly as her blue eyes fade, becoming sightless orbs right in front of my face and I can do nothing to stop it.
I don’t know how long I lay there waiting for the light to come back to her eyes, for her to get up off the floor and maybe try to comfort me again, it’s not fair that I didn’t get to appreciate it that last time and now I need it more than ever.
It could have been minutes or hours but time doesn’t register until my gaze leaves her face when I hear a groaning noise from a few feet away. Leroy. His head is bent at a weird angle because of the way he must have fallen against the wall and his eyes are closed. I’m quiet so I don’t wake him when I stand, holding my ribs as I walk the short distance between us to look down on him. I feel good when his brows seem to scrunch in pain, the fact that he can feel it even while he’s sleeping makes it that much better. I kneel beside him, picking up the knife that’s still clutched in his bloodied hand and bring it toward my face. Momma’s blood. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and I look toward it- a thumping vein in his neck that calls to me with each slow beat of his fading heart. I press the point of the knife above it, just barely touching. I think maybe he’ll die if he stays asleep long enough for the puddle of blood underneath him to grow, I definitely won’t be calling for help so maybe that vein in his neck would stop moving on it’s own. I’m about to drop the knife when I look over at Momma’s unmoving form, her eyes still open and staring unseeingly in my direction. Yeah, maybe he would die on his own… but I want to be the one to end his pathetic existence.
~*~
“Am I boring you, Andrew?” Desmond asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. His muddy brown eyes seemingly looking through me rather than at me. I see the Organization’s leader -Link- in my peripheral, they are both here assessing my reactions. Another one of their tests.
“No, Sir.” I tell the older man, keeping my eyes clear of any kind of emotion. Not such a difficult task for me. His gray speckled eyebrows lift toward Link in question. I play their game. Speak when spoken to, follow the rules, and never show them what’s inside of me. I’m 10 years old, 11 in a few months and today I learned that I’m finally receiving what The Guard refers to as my Gift. It’s a girl, a girl that they have repeatedly talked about gifting me since I was brought here, it’s their way of making me compliant to their rules and also a way to punish me if I break those rules. They can sugar coat it all they want, but even when you call a leash a rainbow it’s still a fucking leash. I don’t want their Gift. I don’t want the responsibility of looking after another human life, I’ve barely kept myself alive and now they want me to be the Guardian of someone else? No thanks. I can’t tell them that though, I have to pretend that I want this, that I’m desperate for this like all the other boys were when they received their Gifts. Play their game, that’s what I have to do to stay ahead and stay alive.
“I asked if you wanted to meet her… you do want to meet her don’t you?” He asks sardonically, eyes narrowed as he gauges me. The handlers like what little power they actually have, most of them were either forced into “retirement” or never went anywhere within The Guard, treating the trainees like shit gives them some kind of perverted rush… but we all know that any one of them could die tomorrow and no one would blink an eye in mourning by the next day.
“Yes, Sir.” I hold his eyes unflinchingly. I know not to to show outward emotion because they look for that but what he’s looking for is excitement when what I really feel is cold, hard dread.
"Bring her in, John.” Link says loud enough to be heard through the cold, white door. White door, painted white cement walls, white floor and ceiling. Hard to sneak around in an all white building when the only clothing we’re issued is black, which I suppose was their intention. Smart.
John opens the door looking flustered as he literally drags a girl in behind him. She’s kicking and screaming, her long chestnut colored hair covering her face as she fights the big man with everything she has. My mouth ticks up in the corner with unfamiliar amusement, the wild one claws at his hand on her arm, reminding me of a scared, little kitten fighting against a pit bull. Apparently scared kittens also bite. Desmond curses and my amusement quickly drops when he walks over to the girl, grabbing her by the jaw to remove her teeth from John’s hand, he backhands her across the face causing her to fall to the white tiled flooring. I don’t outwardly react but I feel the familiar rage building within me as I image killing him in serval different ways, the killer inside me putting a timer on his life.
"Forty-eight hours, Andrew.” John says, shaking his hand to calm the sting of the bite. I step in front of the girl when it looks as though Desmond might try to go after her again. He narrows his eyes on me but stops in his tracks, if he wants to hit something then he can hit me.
“Her name is Mia, you need to get her in line.” he spits. “You can introduce yourself.” I keep silent, my eyes on them as they walk toward the door, closing it behind them when they leave.
I turn toward her –Mia- as soon as the door closes behind them but I still can’t see her face, she keeps herself hidden from me, the dark brown veil of her hair providing adequate cover. I’m not sure what to do, am I supposed to help her stand or something? Show her around the small room?
“This is our room. You’ll have to stay with me sometimes.” I tell her lamely, my enthusiasm leaves a lot to be desired but I’m not really much for talking so she’ll have to get used to it. I turn toward the bed, after the long day I’ve already had I am ready for lights out.
“What’s happening? Why am I here?” She asks quietly. I plop down on the bed, leaving just enough space for her if she decides to leave the cold floor. I look over just as she turns her face toward mine and I feel my heart quicken as I take her in.
I think she might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Long, messy chestnut hair waterfalls to expose dark gray-almost silver- cat shaped eyes that are outlined with such long, dark lashes that I find myself mesmerized just watching them flutter when she blinks. So pretty. She presses her lips together in annoyance, most likely because of my awkward staring, but it only draws my attention to her mouth, she has a big mouth or maybe just big lips, either way it’s very pronounced and that along with her eyes would seem like too much to me if it weren't for the small button nose that seems to tame her sharp features, making her seem a little softer. She’s tiny, nearly pocket sized, but the fire in her eyes shows me that she’s not as fragile as she appears. My gaze sweeps over her already swelling cheekbone and my gut clenches uncomfortably but I push it away, focusing my attention back to her eyes as I speak.
“I was ordered to kill a man yesterday.” I say, ignoring my strangely beating heart. I expect a look of horror but other than a light gasp she doesn’t react. “You’re my reward for following those orders.” I decide that honesty between us is best, if I’m really supposed to be her Guardian then part of that is letting her know what I am and what she may be in for.
“Reward? What does that mean?” She can’t be more than 8 years old but she speaks as if she’s older, she’s far more calm than I expected her to be after my revelation.
"It means that your life is now mine.” I tell her bluntly. Her brows furrow and she looks as though she’s about to argue but I continue. “Save it. I don’t want this anymore than you do but here we are all the same. My job is to protect you-“
“I don’t need your protection, I’ve pretty much been on my own so far, I can-“
“Look where you’re at, Kitten, then tell me that you don’t need protection.” I scoff, making the flame in her eyes flare before uncertainty starts to take over.
“If your job is to protect me… what’s mine?” I sigh, running my hands over my tired eyes. I don’t sleep well, I never have and it’s only gotten worse the last couple of years. I just want to fucking sleep, is that too much to ask?
“You can do whatever you want, just lay low and stay out of trouble.” I tell her.
“I don’t understand. Why would they give me to you though? For what?” She asks, irritated.
“Does it look like I’m the one making the rules?” I snap at her. “All that matters is that we can’t change anything so just deal with it, alright?” She blanches as if I just slapped her and I feel bad for a moment, I’m not good at talking to people, I prefer the quiet but that’s not her fault.
“Were you taken?” She asks after several long minutes, I look over at her but she avoids my eyes as she traces patterns on her leg with her delicate fingers.
“Yes.” I answer simply.
“Where where you taken from?” Her tone softens minutely, empathy at our shared experience most likely.
“I was in foster care but that was a few years ago.” Her eyes widen slightly, making them appear even bigger in her small face. I don’t tell her that my situation wasn’t any better with those people, in some ways it’s actually better for me here at The Guard, my darkened thoughts fit better here at least.
“I’m sorry.” She offers sadly, sounding more like the little girl that she is. “I wasn’t in foster care but… I had people.” She finishes quietly.
“You didn’t have family.” It’s not a question so much as a statement. She’d be a whimpering, whiny mess right now if she had someone out there that had called her a princess and tucked her in every night.
“No.” She takes a deep breath before blowing it back out. “I had a few friends, we looked out for each other sometimes. They’re going to be pissed that I was such and idiot.”
“Why would they be pissed? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. I don’t know how many times we’ve talked about not walking close to the street, to walk next to the buildings so a car or van couldn’t just drive by and pull us in. I didn’t listen and that’s exactly what happened.” It’s the first time I see even a hint of tears but she quickly blinks them away. Brave girl.
“So you were a street kid.” I already know the answer, I’ve seen my fair share and she seems to fit the mold.
“Yeah, what about it?”she asks me haughtily.
“I was just trying to get to know you, Kitten, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
“Don’t call me Kitten,” she sneers “I’m not your pet.” I raise my brows. She doesn’t understand.
"You may not be a pet in the normal sense of the word, but to these people you may as well be. You are here to keep me entertained, to give me companionship, and to make my life worth living so that I don’t decide to just up and leave or put a barrel to my head. You are their bonus to me, their insurance policy and their way of keeping me from lashing out. You’re alive until I’m dead and by the time they are done conditioning me it’ll be vice versa.” I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, I want to but it feels like I haven’t slept properly in months. My eyes close only to reopen a few minutes later… because I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep, goddamnit. I look over at the girl to see her staring off into space, her own tired eyes trying to force her into the sweet oblivion that I’m constantly chasing.
“I don’t know what to say to all of that.” She says weakly. “I’ve been prepared for most scenarios, we all heard horror stories about the kinds of things that can happen to kids that have no family, we’re a temptation to the perverts in the world because they know no one will look for us if we’re taken. You should have heard some of their stories.” She shakes her head with wide, scared eyes.
“Sweet kids.” I tell her drily. I can vividly imagine the kinds of stories she’s talking about, those are the kinds of contracts I hope to be taking very soon.
“No, they were mostly assholes. I miss it already.” Should I tell her that I’m an asshole too? Maybe it will help her transition into this life. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” She asks, eyeing the room in confusion. I pat the edge of the bed next to me and she looks at it as if it were a snake coiled to strike. “I’m not sleeping next to you, I don’t even know you.”
“Suite yourself.” The lights go out before I’m finished with my sentence and I sigh in sweet relief. Finally. My eyes close on their own accord, barely a minute passes before I feel the mattress dip slightly beside me as Mia lies down, making sure she doesn’t touch me at all. I turn my face toward where I know her’s is, I can’t see her but I can feel her looking toward me as well. I can sense her eyes as they search for mine in the darkness and I vaguely wonder if she can feel mine doing the same.
“I don’t know if I can trust you yet, Drew,” she says softly, almost shy. “but I’m not sleeping on the cold floor.” I start to correct her shortening of my name but then realize that I don’t mind it. I might even like it better. I’ve never slept next to anyone before, not even my Momma when she was alive- I don’t know whether or not it’s Mia’s presence, her soft, sweetened scent or just the fact that I’m so fucking tired I can barely think straight but I feel my body fully relaxing for the first time in as long as I can remember.
“You can trust me, Kitten.” I tell her, meaning every word. I may not have wanted her but she’s my responsibility now, I have to make sure she’s taken care of and safe. I won’t fail again. I repeat that in my head over and over again as I’m finally able to close my eyes.
And for the first time in years...I sleep all night.
Chapter 1
Drew
“Drewsie, Momma’s going to go out for a little bit. You have to stay with Daddy for a while, okay?” He’s not my Daddy, I want to tell her once again, but I keep my head down, concentrating on coloring within the lines of my picture instead. I know there’s no amount of pleading that will keep her here, no amount of begging when she and Leroy need their fix. I can tell by the sounds alone that she’s shifting uncomfortably and scratching at her skin as if it might contain some of the white powder she loves so much. “Did you hear me, baby?”
“Yeah.” I whisper, grabbing the red crayon to color in the nose of the ugly clown. I hear her sigh then she’s kneeling beside me, running a hand over the back of my head in a gesture meant to comfort. It doesn’t. Not when she knows what could happen to me when if she leaves, her love for me only extends to the point of withdrawal.
“I’m a bad Momma, baby boy,” I hate it when she calls me a baby, I’m almost 5 years old, I’m not a baby anymore. “I’ll tell you what, as soon as I get home you and I are going to play a game!” She says in a shakily cheerful voice that gains my attention and springs a small sliver of hope into my chest.
“What kind of game?” I ask quietly, searching her sweaty, pale face.
“Anything you want, Drewsie -anything- just stay here and color until I get back. We’re going to have so much fun!” I smile at her then, just a small one that can’t be helped while thinking of all the stuff we could do. She pokes one of the dimples in my cheek, her matching dimples deepening when her smile becomes genuine.“Okay?”
“Okay.” I nod quickly. She stands then, giving me one last look over her shoulder. “Remember to keep real quiet, baby.” She blows me a kiss before she steps out of my small room, closing the door behind her. I wonder briefly how she thinks we’ll get away with playing a game with Leroy at home, maybe she’ll get him some of those small white pills that always put him to sleep, a bomb could go off in the apartment and he wouldn’t wake up when he takes those. I wonder if he’d be able to taste it if I crushed it up and put it in his drink sometimes?
I’m surprised when I hear my door open after a while, I haven’t made a sound. I don’t turn toward it, my hand stops coloring though and I feel my skin grow colder with each step that he moves closer, his breathing loud in the sparse room.
“Momma always has to check with her little pussy of a son before she goes out, doesn’t she? Does she make sure you don’t need a tit before she leaves?” I swallow so loudly that I’m afraid he can hear it, he hears everything. “I’m talking to you, Drewsie!” He draws out my name, mocking the endearment that only Momma calls me. I shake my head quickly but it’s too late, with a hand to the back of my head he pushes my face into the table so hard that pain bursts across my nose and mouth and I immediately taste the blood from my lip. It hurts but my fear outweighs the pain so I clamp my mouth shut when he pulls me back by my hair, my nose pulling in air with shorts puffs as I look up at his monstrous form. Thick, black hair curls in sweaty waves around his ugly face, his big eyebrows set in a threatening scowl over nearly black eyes as he looks down on me with nothing but hatred. A hatred that no nearly 5 year old has ever earned. “You’re fucking useless,” he sneers. I feel warm, thick wetness drip down my face from my nose and I focus my attention on the drip as it slides over my bloodied lip. “A drain on all of my goddamned money!” He roars, his lip curling in disgust. The drip has become a drop and it’s pooling below my chin. All I can think about is that I have a white shirt on, how it’s going to stain my white shirt if it falls then Momma’s going to have to clean it. “How am I supposed to make ends meet when I’m paying for all your fucking shit?” He shakes me violently.
The blood drops from my chin. I can practically feel it blooming out, the thick, red liquid settling into every stark white fiber of the cotton. If Momma can’t get the blood out then he’ll hurt her bad… unless his anger is focused elsewhere.
I feel something snap inside of me at the realization, my fear giving way to an angry numbness that nearly turns my vision black with it’s intensity. I have to protect my Momma.
I lower my eyes from his brows, looking into his bloodshot gaze for the first time in as long as I can remember.
“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” His eyes grow round in shock at my use of Momma’s words when she’s angry and he’s asleep. “Maybe if you were a real man you wouldn’t need to hit a woman half your size and a little boy who can’t fight back.” My usage of bad words seems to stun him, he blinks with each word and I feel a split second of victory before I’m thrown down to his feet. I don’t even feel it when my head hits the floor, I don’t hear his words as he repeatedly kicks me, I don’t smell the stench of his breath when he screams into my face… but I see it when Momma runs in carrying a long knife. I see it when she lifts the handle and stabs him in the back once then twice, I see him roar in rage then turn on her, grabbing the knife from her tiny, fragile hand before he shoves her into a wall and I see it as if everything is in slow motion as he turns the blade on her, impaling her stomach with it over and over again. I scream for her but nothing comes out, I can’t breath right, I can’t help her. She falls to the floor just a few feet from me, her mouth gaping as she tries to say something that wont come out of her blood stained lips. I watch helplessly as her blue eyes fade, becoming sightless orbs right in front of my face and I can do nothing to stop it.
I don’t know how long I lay there waiting for the light to come back to her eyes, for her to get up off the floor and maybe try to comfort me again, it’s not fair that I didn’t get to appreciate it that last time and now I need it more than ever.
It could have been minutes or hours but time doesn’t register until my gaze leaves her face when I hear a groaning noise from a few feet away. Leroy. His head is bent at a weird angle because of the way he must have fallen against the wall and his eyes are closed. I’m quiet so I don’t wake him when I stand, holding my ribs as I walk the short distance between us to look down on him. I feel good when his brows seem to scrunch in pain, the fact that he can feel it even while he’s sleeping makes it that much better. I kneel beside him, picking up the knife that’s still clutched in his bloodied hand and bring it toward my face. Momma’s blood. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and I look toward it- a thumping vein in his neck that calls to me with each slow beat of his fading heart. I press the point of the knife above it, just barely touching. I think maybe he’ll die if he stays asleep long enough for the puddle of blood underneath him to grow, I definitely won’t be calling for help so maybe that vein in his neck would stop moving on it’s own. I’m about to drop the knife when I look over at Momma’s unmoving form, her eyes still open and staring unseeingly in my direction. Yeah, maybe he would die on his own… but I want to be the one to end his pathetic existence.
~*~
“Am I boring you, Andrew?” Desmond asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. His muddy brown eyes seemingly looking through me rather than at me. I see the Organization’s leader -Link- in my peripheral, they are both here assessing my reactions. Another one of their tests.
“No, Sir.” I tell the older man, keeping my eyes clear of any kind of emotion. Not such a difficult task for me. His gray speckled eyebrows lift toward Link in question. I play their game. Speak when spoken to, follow the rules, and never show them what’s inside of me. I’m 10 years old, 11 in a few months and today I learned that I’m finally receiving what The Guard refers to as my Gift. It’s a girl, a girl that they have repeatedly talked about gifting me since I was brought here, it’s their way of making me compliant to their rules and also a way to punish me if I break those rules. They can sugar coat it all they want, but even when you call a leash a rainbow it’s still a fucking leash. I don’t want their Gift. I don’t want the responsibility of looking after another human life, I’ve barely kept myself alive and now they want me to be the Guardian of someone else? No thanks. I can’t tell them that though, I have to pretend that I want this, that I’m desperate for this like all the other boys were when they received their Gifts. Play their game, that’s what I have to do to stay ahead and stay alive.
“I asked if you wanted to meet her… you do want to meet her don’t you?” He asks sardonically, eyes narrowed as he gauges me. The handlers like what little power they actually have, most of them were either forced into “retirement” or never went anywhere within The Guard, treating the trainees like shit gives them some kind of perverted rush… but we all know that any one of them could die tomorrow and no one would blink an eye in mourning by the next day.
“Yes, Sir.” I hold his eyes unflinchingly. I know not to to show outward emotion because they look for that but what he’s looking for is excitement when what I really feel is cold, hard dread.
"Bring her in, John.” Link says loud enough to be heard through the cold, white door. White door, painted white cement walls, white floor and ceiling. Hard to sneak around in an all white building when the only clothing we’re issued is black, which I suppose was their intention. Smart.
John opens the door looking flustered as he literally drags a girl in behind him. She’s kicking and screaming, her long chestnut colored hair covering her face as she fights the big man with everything she has. My mouth ticks up in the corner with unfamiliar amusement, the wild one claws at his hand on her arm, reminding me of a scared, little kitten fighting against a pit bull. Apparently scared kittens also bite. Desmond curses and my amusement quickly drops when he walks over to the girl, grabbing her by the jaw to remove her teeth from John’s hand, he backhands her across the face causing her to fall to the white tiled flooring. I don’t outwardly react but I feel the familiar rage building within me as I image killing him in serval different ways, the killer inside me putting a timer on his life.
"Forty-eight hours, Andrew.” John says, shaking his hand to calm the sting of the bite. I step in front of the girl when it looks as though Desmond might try to go after her again. He narrows his eyes on me but stops in his tracks, if he wants to hit something then he can hit me.
“Her name is Mia, you need to get her in line.” he spits. “You can introduce yourself.” I keep silent, my eyes on them as they walk toward the door, closing it behind them when they leave.
I turn toward her –Mia- as soon as the door closes behind them but I still can’t see her face, she keeps herself hidden from me, the dark brown veil of her hair providing adequate cover. I’m not sure what to do, am I supposed to help her stand or something? Show her around the small room?
“This is our room. You’ll have to stay with me sometimes.” I tell her lamely, my enthusiasm leaves a lot to be desired but I’m not really much for talking so she’ll have to get used to it. I turn toward the bed, after the long day I’ve already had I am ready for lights out.
“What’s happening? Why am I here?” She asks quietly. I plop down on the bed, leaving just enough space for her if she decides to leave the cold floor. I look over just as she turns her face toward mine and I feel my heart quicken as I take her in.
I think she might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Long, messy chestnut hair waterfalls to expose dark gray-almost silver- cat shaped eyes that are outlined with such long, dark lashes that I find myself mesmerized just watching them flutter when she blinks. So pretty. She presses her lips together in annoyance, most likely because of my awkward staring, but it only draws my attention to her mouth, she has a big mouth or maybe just big lips, either way it’s very pronounced and that along with her eyes would seem like too much to me if it weren't for the small button nose that seems to tame her sharp features, making her seem a little softer. She’s tiny, nearly pocket sized, but the fire in her eyes shows me that she’s not as fragile as she appears. My gaze sweeps over her already swelling cheekbone and my gut clenches uncomfortably but I push it away, focusing my attention back to her eyes as I speak.
“I was ordered to kill a man yesterday.” I say, ignoring my strangely beating heart. I expect a look of horror but other than a light gasp she doesn’t react. “You’re my reward for following those orders.” I decide that honesty between us is best, if I’m really supposed to be her Guardian then part of that is letting her know what I am and what she may be in for.
“Reward? What does that mean?” She can’t be more than 8 years old but she speaks as if she’s older, she’s far more calm than I expected her to be after my revelation.
"It means that your life is now mine.” I tell her bluntly. Her brows furrow and she looks as though she’s about to argue but I continue. “Save it. I don’t want this anymore than you do but here we are all the same. My job is to protect you-“
“I don’t need your protection, I’ve pretty much been on my own so far, I can-“
“Look where you’re at, Kitten, then tell me that you don’t need protection.” I scoff, making the flame in her eyes flare before uncertainty starts to take over.
“If your job is to protect me… what’s mine?” I sigh, running my hands over my tired eyes. I don’t sleep well, I never have and it’s only gotten worse the last couple of years. I just want to fucking sleep, is that too much to ask?
“You can do whatever you want, just lay low and stay out of trouble.” I tell her.
“I don’t understand. Why would they give me to you though? For what?” She asks, irritated.
“Does it look like I’m the one making the rules?” I snap at her. “All that matters is that we can’t change anything so just deal with it, alright?” She blanches as if I just slapped her and I feel bad for a moment, I’m not good at talking to people, I prefer the quiet but that’s not her fault.
“Were you taken?” She asks after several long minutes, I look over at her but she avoids my eyes as she traces patterns on her leg with her delicate fingers.
“Yes.” I answer simply.
“Where where you taken from?” Her tone softens minutely, empathy at our shared experience most likely.
“I was in foster care but that was a few years ago.” Her eyes widen slightly, making them appear even bigger in her small face. I don’t tell her that my situation wasn’t any better with those people, in some ways it’s actually better for me here at The Guard, my darkened thoughts fit better here at least.
“I’m sorry.” She offers sadly, sounding more like the little girl that she is. “I wasn’t in foster care but… I had people.” She finishes quietly.
“You didn’t have family.” It’s not a question so much as a statement. She’d be a whimpering, whiny mess right now if she had someone out there that had called her a princess and tucked her in every night.
“No.” She takes a deep breath before blowing it back out. “I had a few friends, we looked out for each other sometimes. They’re going to be pissed that I was such and idiot.”
“Why would they be pissed? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. I don’t know how many times we’ve talked about not walking close to the street, to walk next to the buildings so a car or van couldn’t just drive by and pull us in. I didn’t listen and that’s exactly what happened.” It’s the first time I see even a hint of tears but she quickly blinks them away. Brave girl.
“So you were a street kid.” I already know the answer, I’ve seen my fair share and she seems to fit the mold.
“Yeah, what about it?”she asks me haughtily.
“I was just trying to get to know you, Kitten, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
“Don’t call me Kitten,” she sneers “I’m not your pet.” I raise my brows. She doesn’t understand.
"You may not be a pet in the normal sense of the word, but to these people you may as well be. You are here to keep me entertained, to give me companionship, and to make my life worth living so that I don’t decide to just up and leave or put a barrel to my head. You are their bonus to me, their insurance policy and their way of keeping me from lashing out. You’re alive until I’m dead and by the time they are done conditioning me it’ll be vice versa.” I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, I want to but it feels like I haven’t slept properly in months. My eyes close only to reopen a few minutes later… because I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep, goddamnit. I look over at the girl to see her staring off into space, her own tired eyes trying to force her into the sweet oblivion that I’m constantly chasing.
“I don’t know what to say to all of that.” She says weakly. “I’ve been prepared for most scenarios, we all heard horror stories about the kinds of things that can happen to kids that have no family, we’re a temptation to the perverts in the world because they know no one will look for us if we’re taken. You should have heard some of their stories.” She shakes her head with wide, scared eyes.
“Sweet kids.” I tell her drily. I can vividly imagine the kinds of stories she’s talking about, those are the kinds of contracts I hope to be taking very soon.
“No, they were mostly assholes. I miss it already.” Should I tell her that I’m an asshole too? Maybe it will help her transition into this life. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” She asks, eyeing the room in confusion. I pat the edge of the bed next to me and she looks at it as if it were a snake coiled to strike. “I’m not sleeping next to you, I don’t even know you.”
“Suite yourself.” The lights go out before I’m finished with my sentence and I sigh in sweet relief. Finally. My eyes close on their own accord, barely a minute passes before I feel the mattress dip slightly beside me as Mia lies down, making sure she doesn’t touch me at all. I turn my face toward where I know her’s is, I can’t see her but I can feel her looking toward me as well. I can sense her eyes as they search for mine in the darkness and I vaguely wonder if she can feel mine doing the same.
“I don’t know if I can trust you yet, Drew,” she says softly, almost shy. “but I’m not sleeping on the cold floor.” I start to correct her shortening of my name but then realize that I don’t mind it. I might even like it better. I’ve never slept next to anyone before, not even my Momma when she was alive- I don’t know whether or not it’s Mia’s presence, her soft, sweetened scent or just the fact that I’m so fucking tired I can barely think straight but I feel my body fully relaxing for the first time in as long as I can remember.
“You can trust me, Kitten.” I tell her, meaning every word. I may not have wanted her but she’s my responsibility now, I have to make sure she’s taken care of and safe. I won’t fail again. I repeat that in my head over and over again as I’m finally able to close my eyes.
And for the first time in years...I sleep all night.
