Stop A Bullet - Chapter Twelve

Stop A Bullet1

Chapter Twelve2

I stepped onto the driveway: the breeze now gone.3

The stony steps leading towards the front door guiding my around onto the pavement. I could see through the fly screen, the front door still open. I could hear talking from out back, but could not make out who it was. I hoped it was Mr. Next-door, I prayed it was our neighbors.4

My eyes were scratchy, I rubbed them wiping away the remaining tears that caused my eyes lashes to flicker in laceration. My mouth had become dry, my lips blistering with the vile that clung to them: similar to that of the dead skin that hung from my grandmothers face. 5

There was no doubt in my mind that my body would remain tender in discomfort for days to come; though I tried hard to ignore it. I attempted to numb the physical pain readying myself for the emotional, turmoil, that was about to come.6

I reached for the door knob, my fingers quivering. My worst nightmare coming to light as a steady hand took the other end. I could feel the knob twisting my fingers around, my heart jumping back and forth in unison with the movements from the person behind the door.7

I dare not look up for the shortest time. Fixated on the door itself: before my eyes deceived my searching for a way to dodge my dread, heading fast towards the dominating figure who stood tall; the fly screen being the only thing that was keeping me from swallowing my own tongue in trepidation. 8

“Taint,” the hollow voice questioned, the door being pushed open; pushing me only centimeters away from the man who had stepped outside onto the footpath: before me.9

I did not speak, his tone triggering panic.10

Trey stepped onto the grass. The car keys swiveling between his fingers, the motion causing me to feel nauseated immediately. He smelled strongly of cigarettes and whiskey, his every breath drifting towards my open, gaping, mouth: causing my stomach to lurch with the need to be sick again.11

He took a look at the wrist watch that was barely hanging from his wrist. A twisted smile creeping across his face like he knew something I did not. It was a smug look, one that was fumed a stench of a sinister act. One that I immediately knew when I saw it: he had done it again, he had abused Maggie.12

“I told your mother that you had run away to join the circus,” he laughed, his shallow tone causing my skin to crawl.13

I closed my mouth, swallowing my pride, alarm bells ringing in my head. It was to late to back down, to late to weaken. He would not hurt me, he would not dare; he was to drunk to even hold the keys between his fingers let alone take a shot at me. This was my chance to speak up: as weak as I was.14

“Why would you say that?” I asked softly, the vile beginning to regurgitate in my throat. Maybe it was not such a good idea. But I had to do this: I just had to there was no other choice.15

“I told her...Tanya that boy has run away to the circus...he will be famous in the freak show...I can promise you, your boy will be famous,” Trey slurred, his watch now loosely scraping his wrist.16

“Could you please move, I have to get ready for school. I am already going to be late,” I lied, seeking the direction of the door, seeking the urgency of a cold drink and the comfort of a warm, shower.17

Trey stepped in front of me, a heavy hand pressed against my chest. His once smug expression changing in a flash to a frown and then to a scowl.18

“Don't think I don't remember what you did to me Taint,” he muttered, his body swaying back and forth. So close to falling over, that for second he looked ready to face plant my chest.19

“What are you talking about?” I asked, pretending as best as I could to have no recollection of this mornings, violent, offense. My eyes leaving the hand he had placed on my chest, upwards quickly to his eye that had turned an awful shade of violet: it was Red, raw Red beneath the patch of violet bruising.20

It was sure nasty and would not heal for a long while yet and as I looked into his eyes, the heartless silver striking me down into a dull sense of regret I suddenly realized that Trey would have to face the next few days, slaving away at the construction site explaining to the hard men why he had got a black eye: that had to dig deep, right where his reputation was put on show so that he could hide his dysfunction. 21

There was no hiding it now: I had made damn sure of that.22

“Don't you play games with me Tainty Boy,” he said crunching his fingers to emphasize each word. “ This ain't over till the twiggy, boy, screams,” he slurred, his words quickening in speed as he continued to ramble; his threats not seeming nearly as frightening as they would have, had he been sober. 23

“I remember exactly how I got this black eye and mark my words when I get home tonight you are going to know what humiliation feels like.”24

I blinked, slipping away from his hand. He let it fall my his side, stepping across onto the grass once again: leaving a clear path for me to get inside.25

“I will deal with you later,” he finished, speaking his last words: before making his way towards the car.26

I stepped inside the door. Closing both doors behind me; locking them so that there was no way that he could get back inside. Not while I was home.27

I watched him from the window, moving the torn curtains from my view. The car pulling out of the driveway. The chug...chug...chug of the engine coughing and spluttering was loud enough to be deafening at the time in the morning and as I watched him drive away from the house I wondered if I should have let him drive.28

He was drunk, that was certain and we sure could not afford a ticket or a court case: though with any luck, as horrible as it sounded I hoped that he might wrap himself around a tree and save us all from this misery. 29

I pulled the curtains across, stepping away quickly to see them tumbling down; The steel rod not far behind. I jumped a few good centimeters away, too slow that I lost my gripping and fell to the floor. My back thumping against the sofa.30

“Fucking...hell,” I cried, picking myself up of the ground; the curtains wrapped around my feet. 31

I was depressed living in this dump. This house was falling apart and it did not help with my parent's destruction. If they kept going the way that they were we would surely have the land lord on our back and then where would we be; now that my mother quit her job we would have to rely on Trey to cover the cost of living and that was a thought that I did not want floating around in my mind.32

I got to my feet, straightening my clothes out for what reason I did not know. I needed a shower, I could smell the sweat; putrid and vile seeping through my pores. Not only that my clothes were sticking to my skin.33

I turned around seeing my mother curled up in a ball. Her head resting against the arm of the chair. Her blouse was torn, breast peeping from her bra. I tilted my head, fighting back the tears that were swelling agonizingly in my eyes; she was a mess.34

I stepped closer until my feet slipped underneath the sofa and lowered myself onto my knees. I peeked behind her tangled, locks, as I brushed her hair behind her ears. Carefully, as not to wake her I slipped my fingers under her cheeks, tilting her head on a slight angle: the bruises and scarring now more apparent.35

Swallowing, I tried desperately not to choke on the vile that crept quickly up my throat. She was a battered mess; worse than I expected.36

I wanted to touch her, to sooth her, to bathe her flesh and hold her close to my heart so that Trey could never do this to her again,but I though better of it. I slowly moved my fingers from underneath her cheek, letting her rest her rest comfortably against the arm of the chair and rose to me feet.37

“Blankets,” I whispered to myself scanning the room. I thought about taking her back to her bedroom; though she was heavy for me to lift alone. Not only that she looked so peaceful, so quiet, so relived: she even had a smile on her face and I dared not to disturbed her from her well deserved repose.38

I spotted one by the washing basket, right before the lounge room entrance.39

Stepping across the curtain, I made my way slowly to the washing basket. Flashes, visions, images of what Trey had done to her arising in my mind. I could not deny the tears as I wept, my vision becoming slightly impaired: blurry. 40

There had to be something better than this. This was not a life at all. We were going through these treacherous motions, being made to act like robots while our keys were twisted and our microchips were programed. There had to be something beyond the calamity.41

I scoped the blanket out of the basket, carrying it back to my mother. The soft fabric being the only comfort I had. It brought back memories, sharp, flashes of our life before dad had walked out; life before mum had become a free women only to meet someone just as malevolent, if not and worse place us back in the same violent situation. Only this time it was purely domestic.42

“I promise you it will get better,” I whispered laying it over her carefully; making sure to cover her body well. “I will find a way to get us out of this,” I said watching her for a few moments, the sheet rising, moving with her body as she slept.43

She did not stir, but remained undisturbed. The soft sound of her breathing the only thing determining that she was still alive; he had not killed her, that was the better than anything. She was still living, still breathing, still able to open her eyes; whether she wanted to or not. I could still hold her, still feel her, still talk to her and better yet she could do the same: she was still 44

I stepped away, caressing her cheek; before I bent forward kissing her softly on her forehead. Her smile did not disappear, just remained the same as her breathing heightened into a dull snore. She was comfortable, I could tell. She was out like a light; she always snored when she was in a deep, serene, sleep.45

The sunlight beamed through the lounge room, there were no clouds in the sky. Just the sun warming the room as the morning progressed. It had to be getting on Seven A.M by now.46

That did not leave me a lot of time. A few hours and Trey would be home for lunch and after that it would just be to late. 47

I had a plan, a plan I had thought of while I made my way home. It might not have been a bullet proof plan, but it was one that I was sure I could execute, given I hurried. 48

Though before I could do anything I needed a drink; I was dying of thirst and I was certain that if I continued to taste the vile that lingered in my mouth that I would surely be caught up in the toilet for the remainder of the day; causing my plan to be on a stand hold or worse completely annihilated.49

The kitchen was bare, all bare a cereal box that had been tipped over on the kitchen table. It was the only room in the house, besides mine that did not look like a bomb had hit it; though it was one when everybody was all together: was utter ciaos.50

I reached into the fridge that swung on its hinges, swinging open the door to take a peek. There was much to choose from. Just a dreg of juice and a glassful of milk. Why hadn't anybody bothered to check the fridge? We weren't that poor, we could easily afford food and yet no one bothered. It was another hassle that they pushed aside counting on someone else to sort it out and I would have too, had someone given me the money.51

I chose the milk tipping the glass into my mug, surely it would be enough to make a cup of coffee. 52

I switched on the kettle, the steam instantly filling the air; the aroma of the coffee filling my lungs, making me queasy.53

I clenched my stomach, forcing the vile to settle. Controlling my mind; telling it that it would soon be eased with the smooth, taste, of coffee: that would replace the foul taste that had consumed my mouth.54

The kettle had almost finished boiling when I heard a thumping at the door. 55

Thump...thump...thump.56

Jumping out of my skin I switched the kettle off, pouring the steaming hot water into my mug. My hands shaking, trembling, as fear set in once again causing my heart to bash against my chest.57

Thump...thump...thump.58

The noise continued to sound through the house. The pounding becoming louder, stronger with every minute in passing.59

I looked into the lounge room where my mother lay, undisturbed by the noise: she really was knocked out cold. The noise being nothing, but a hushing lullaby.60

“Please don't be Trey,” I muttered to myself, stirring the contents in my mug until the richness of the coffee was the only thing that I could smell.61

Thump...thump...thump.62

I stopped stirring, leaving my mug on the counter as I padded my way through the lounge room and into the hallway, stopping short at the front door.63

The pounding continued, in par with my rising heartbeat. It was to early for him to come home yet. I hoped to God that he had not forgotten something or worse that he was back already to teach me a lesson.64

Thump...thump...thump.65

“Who...who's there,” I cried, unlatching the locks on the door. My fingers wrapped tightly, gripping, the door knob like my life depended on it.66

The thumping stopped, there was a minute of silence before the person behind the door spoke, but when they did my body instantly relaxed. My mind partially at ease.67

“Open the door Taint... it's me, Ashley.”