Sweet Destruction

  Sometimes I worried. Would I be like her in twenty years? Drinking myself to death and moving from man to man, hoping to find someone to love me? I shuddered to think it was a possibility, but when you came from the piss poor side of town, you couldn’t help but wonder if it would happen to you. I saw the downward spiral that most people took, ruining their lives. It was hard to break out of this life I had been born into, but I was going to fight it every step of the way.

  Then there was my brother, Bentley. He was two years older than me and would kick anyone’s ass that even thought of trying to have sex with me. He took overprotective to an all new level. Bentley was a real hardass, scaring away most of the guys who came around me. Lukas was one of the ones that stuck around the longest, but it was only a matter of time before he too was forced to run.

  I pushed the thought away and grinned at Lukas, still walking backwards. “So are you asking to spend the night?” I asked, peering at Lukas from beneath my thick black mascara.

  “Yeah, something like that,” he said, drawing me to a stop between two slammed trucks.

  My smile disappeared as he pulled me toward him, his eyes dropping down to my chest. I stopped a few inches from him before he could pull me against him, close enough to see the details of the tattoo racing up his neck. He touched my cheek lightly, his gaze landing on each feature of my face.

  “You’re so damned beautiful,” he whispered.

  I might have blushed if I was that kind of girl. But I wasn’t. I didn’t blush. Nor did I swoon, grow breathless, get butterflies, or feel giddy over a boy. They weren’t worth it. I considered myself levelheaded, sensible, and without all the drama that most girls my age seemed consumed by. I knew what men were capable of and it wasn’t always so nice.

  I watched as Lukas focused on my lips. I knew my red lipstick drove him crazy, just like the off-white shirtdress I wore. It hit me mid-thigh and showed off my legs perfectly. That’s why I wore it tonight. To feel normal. Accepted. A part of me wanted that while another part of me wrestled with the thought of being like my mother.

  “I’m not sure you should spend the night,” I told Lukas, giving him a weak smile. “What if my brother comes home? He’ll kill you.”

  Lukas’s grin faded away. “Well, we can go back to your house and watch a movie. Just hang out for a while. See what happens.”

  I opened my mouth to remind him how much Bentley didn’t like him, but stopped. I was nineteen. If I wanted to take a boy home, who was going to stop me? Surely not my hell-raising brother and definitely not my alcohol and drug-induced mother.

  “Let’s go,” I said before I changed my mind.

  Lukas’s smile returned, wider this time. I fought the nervousness that threatened to bubble up. It was obvious he thought he was going to get some tonight.

  But I knew it would never happen.

  He followed behind me as we wove our way between cars and people. I noticed two vehicles were getting ready to race, both of them sitting at a crudely drawn starting line. Their engines were revving, smoke billowing from freshly burnt rubber. Men and women were standing nearby, talking loudly as they waited for the go signal.

  I didn’t stop to watch. I had been to my share of illegal street races, thanks to Bentley dragging me along. I just wanted to leave before I ran into him or any of his friends.

  Lukas let me go in front of him when we came to two closely parked cars. We emerged on the other side beneath one of the streetlights. Bugs swarmed high above us, their wings making little buzzing sounds as they flew around in the light.

  I glanced up. From the time I was a little girl I liked to watch the bugs in the streetlights that lined our neighborhood. They reminded me of little humans, zipping around feverishly. I saw the light as something we all wanted, every single one of us. It was a need, a craving that made us swarm around eagerly, knocking into each other without care. To me that light represented love. If you got too close to it, you were a goner. It could destroy. It happened with those little bugs and I saw it happen with my mama. She was sucked into my daddy’s light, unable to resist him. For that she got zapped and still hadn’t recovered. The smart ones stayed away from the light, flying a safe distance from it. I planned to be one of those smart ones.

  I was staying away from love.

  I quickened my pace, wanting to leave behind the street racing crowd. But then I heard it – a deep voice, calling my name. Apprehension raced up and down my spine. I scanned the area, my eyes moving swiftly. Then I spotted them. My back stiffened and I swore my claws came out.

  My brother was leaning on his best friend’s car, staring at Lukas and me intently. His legs were crossed at the ankles and his arms were folded over his chest, making him appear at ease. I knew it was just a façade; my brother was never relaxed, especially when he saw me with a guy.

  But I wasn’t worried so much about my brother. I was worried about who was next to him.

  Cole Walker.

  The one person who could zap me like that streetlight. Destroying me.

  ~~~~

  Cole Walker came along about the time I had given up on my dad ever returning home. It was about the same time I gave up on just about everything, including having a normal life.

  The first time I met Walker was when he and his father moved down the street from us. Their trailer was brand new, a pristine white color that reflected the sunlight brightly. The steps leading to their front door were not crumbling or rotting like ours. They were a nice solid wood that looked like they wouldn’t give under the slightest weight. Their tiny home still had an attached screen door. Ours just had one that hung on the doorframe by two rusty nails and some bailing wire. But their yard looked like everyone else’s in the neighborhood – just dirt and weeds and not much else. No plants or shrubs could be found. But if there were any, the blazing sun and heat would’ve killed them anyway.

  The day I met Walker, I couldn’t take my eyes off his trailer as Bentley and I walked past it early one morning on our way to school. We were late again but I wasn’t worried. I was more concerned about our new neighbors. Who are they? Where did they come from? Do they have kids? I was nosey back then, to say the least.

  I couldn’t help but imagine a woman walking out the front door, waving goodbye to her daughter, a loving smile on her face. Or a dad throwing the ball for his son, slapping him on the back with pride when he caught it. What I never imagined was a boy barreling through the screen door, violent and angry.

  He flew down the porch steps like a bat out of hell. The front door slammed behind him but I don’t think he cared. With furious strides he hurried, looking like the devil was on his tail.

  A second later the door popped back open, smacking the outside of the metal trailer. A big man appeared in the doorway, wearing only a white tank top and dirty loose jeans. He stepped out onto the tiny, wooden porch, his eyes narrowing on the boy running down the driveway.

  “You better git, Cole Walker, or your ass is gonna be on fire!” the man bellowed, shaking his fist at the boy.

  My eyes widened when the boy turned and flipped the man off, his middle finger raised in anger. Then he did it again with his other hand.

  “Bent, did you see that?” I whispered in awe as the boy started walking down the street with hurried, long strides.

  “Hush, Sam. Mind your own business,” Bentley scolded.

  I did what my brother said because to me Bentley was a god. He was strong and brave, not afraid of anything. I looked up to him because he seemed to have all the answers. But ten minutes later my curiosity got to me again. Who is the boy and why is he so mad? Is that his daddy? Is he mean like my mama is sometimes?

  I wanted to ask Bentley what he thought but it was probably best I didn’t. He was pissy that morning. Mama forgot to pay the water bill again so we had to brush our teeth with a half-empty can of orange soda Bentley found in the trashcan. I didn’t mind, but Bentley was mad. He got that way a lot with Mama.

  So I guess it wa
s good that Bentley and I kept our distance from the new kid as we walked to school. My brother was in no mood to make new friends. But even if he was, I knew he wouldn’t attempt to talk to the kid. Bentley took his job as my older brother very seriously. At twelve years old, he was the parent I never had. He made sure I had something to eat at night, even if it was just a bowl of cereal. He helped me with my homework as best as he could and took care of me when I was sick. He was my mama and daddy all rolled into one. He had to be in order for us to survive.

  See, we lived in the ghettos. Unlike other places around town, a person had to know how to survive here. Crime was high and happiness was low. Murder, gangs, and drug dealing were the norm. Kids playing ball with their dad or blowing kisses to their mom were as foreign to me as having money in our pockets. It just never happened and never would.

  I stayed quiet and continued to watch the new kid for another block as we walked far behind him. In fact, I was so busy watching him that I didn’t notice the car driving slowly behind me. It wasn’t until the driver rolled down his window and tooted the car’s horn that I noticed.

  “Hey, sugar,” the man said.

  I glanced over and held back a groan. It was my mama’s current boyfriend – Pam Man. That’s what Bentley and I nicknamed him. His hair was so greasy, he looked like he sprayed Pam cooking spray in it. I know it wasn’t nice of us to call him that, but the guy was creepy.

  I inched closer to Bentley and waved at Pam Man hesitantly. I didn’t trust him. Sometimes I would catch him staring at me, a weird look on his face. I told my mama once but she had gotten mad and accused me of trying to come between her and Pam Man. She even said I was flirting with him. I denied it but she didn’t believe me, giving me a slap instead.

  After that argument, I didn’t try to tell her again how much Pam Man scared me. But Bentley knew. He refused to leave me alone when Mick Rodriquez (Pam Man’s real name) was at our house, even going so far as to sleep on the floor in my bedroom when Mick spent the night with Mama.

  “You need a ride to school, sugar? I’m headin’ that way,” he called out to me, driving at a slow pace next to us. Even his voice sounded greasy.

  I shook my head and inched closer to Bentley, seeking safety. At ten years old, I didn’t talk a lot. I didn’t have much to say. I was a sad child, full of so much grief from my daddy leaving. I blamed myself most days. Sometimes I even wished I was invisible so people wouldn’t see how sad I was. But so far that hadn’t happened.

  “You hear me, sugar?” Pam Man asked again, glancing at me then the road.

  I grew scared and inched closer to Bentley, hiding my face.

  “We’ll catch the bus,” Bentley said, grabbing the strap of my backpack and pulling me along at a faster pace.

  Pam Man’s beady eyes stared at Bentley from the driver’s seat as he coasted beside us. “I ain’t talking to you, boy,” he snarled, meanness in his eyes. “Keep quiet.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bentley retorted, saluting Pam Man sarcastically.

  Pam Man frowned, but when he glanced back at me, a slick smile lit up his face.

  “You need a ride, Sam?” he asked again, his lips lifted in a grin.

  I hated the way he said my name and I really hated the way he looked at me. When he spent the night with mama, I heard him grunt and groan in her bedroom, sounding like a pig eating its dinner. Sometimes she would cry out in pain. Those nights I put a pillow over my head, begging God to take me away or take Pam Man away from my mama, but it never happened.

  We were almost to the bus stop when Pam Man insisted I get in the car with him again. By that time my heart was racing too fast, just like it did when I was nervous. It was almost like I knew something bad was gonna happen.

  And I wasn’t wrong.

  Pam Man slowed the car to a stop beside the curb and threw it into park. He climbed out as we continued walking, his large frame unfolding from behind the wheel.

  I stumbled, afraid, as I watched him amble around the front bumper of his car toward us. Bentley grabbed my wrist and tried to make me move faster, but I was too frightened to make my feet work properly.

  We had only taken a few steps when suddenly Pam Man stepped right in front of us. He smelled like coffee and cheap cologne, two smells I hated.

  Bending down, his long beak-like nose came within inches of mine. “Did you hear me, young lady? Get in my car and I’ll take you to school. I’m practically your daddy now and that’s what daddies do for their daughters.”

  I curved my slender shoulders forward, hunching my back and making myself appear smaller. My long blonde hair fell forward, covering my face and hiding me. I was shutting down. Withdrawing. Something I did quite often.

  Bentley took over. He pushed me behind him and straightened, facing Pam Man like a grown man would. “She ain’t going nowhere with you, mister. You ain’t our father so stop trying to act like one,” he said. He was being mighty brave considering who he was talking to.

  I peeked around Bentley’s arm, afraid of how Pam Man would react. He hit my mama once. I had seen it with my own two eyes. I didn’t want him doing that to Bentley or me.

  His thick, wet tongue licked across his lips, reminding me of a lizard. Gazing down at my second-hand dress, he grinned again.

  I shook and hid behind Bentley but there was no escaping Pam Man. The man had power around here and he liked to throw it around. His thick hand shot out, grabbing Bentley’s upper arm.

  “Now you listen here, you little shit,” he said, jerking Bentley forward and backward like a rag doll. “I might be bangin’ your mama but you got no right to talk to me that way, you hear? Your little sister there is gonna git in my car and you ain’t gonna stop her. Back off or I’ll whoop your ass from here to next Sunday.”

  “I ain’t gonna back off!” Bentley exclaimed as Pam Man tossed him to the side like a piece of trash. The momentum sent Bentley falling backward. With the heavy backpack on his shoulder, he lost his balance and fell, landing in the soft grass of someone’s yard. I cried out and started to go to him but Pam Man grabbed my upper arm, yanking me back.

  “Come on, girl. I’ll take good care of you,” he said in a nasally voice, tugging me toward his blue and white sedan. His fingers bit into my arm, squeezing until I thought the bone would break.

  I reached for Bentley and cried out, dropping my Hello Kitty backpack on the sidewalk. Pam Man ignored my cries, dragging me off the curb and over to the back door of his car. I tried to fight him, to pull back, but he was stronger.

  I dug in my heels but it was no use. He yanked me forward, making me lose my balance and fall. I landed on the sidewalk, scraping my knees and hurting the palms of my hands. My cries grew louder. My knees were burning and my arm felt like it was breaking from his grip.

  But I wasn’t giving up yet.

  I let out another loud scream. I was making quite a bit of noise, but I was afraid it wouldn’t matter. In my neighborhood not many people would get involved in a scuffle involving someone like Pam Man. People tended to mind their own business around here. And they didn’t want anything to do with someone like him.

  A dirty cop.

  Even ten years old, I knew that getting in a car with this man was not safe despite the badge on his shirt. So I let out another scream. And another. I just didn’t stop screaming.

  Pam Man yanked open the rear door of his sedan and tried to push me inside, but I kicked out with my feet. When that didn’t work, I grabbed the edge of the car door, getting a firm grip and holding on for dear life. I knew if I let go, he would stuff me into the car and I would never see Bentley again.

  With tears racing down my face, I twisted around, struggling to see my brother. He was climbing to his feet, fists at his side, his eyes on Pam Man. I cried out for him just as Pam Man pried my fingers from the door.

  I started fighting him, beating him with my small fist as he tried to stuff me inside the car. But it was no use. He was too strong for me.

  I screamed on
e last time. That’s when a movement caught my attention.

  The new kid had turned around and he was running toward us. He was tall, almost as tall as Pam Man. At least a head taller than Bentley. And he looked angry. So angry that he scared me. I watched him run toward us, something out of hell heading my way.

  Once I saw a drawing of the devil. One of the blue-haired ladies at Saint Mary’s Church and Mission had showed me the picture one cold winter night during a ‘Feed the Underprivileged’ dinner. As she handed me a cup of watered-down soup, she told me about Lucifer and how he tempted good boys and girls. The boy running toward me reminded me of that drawing. His hair was black and his eyes were dark. He didn’t have a forked tail or pointy horns but he had a meanness about him that I could certainly see.

  That’s the moment my life changed forever.

  The boy would be my destruction and my savior. He would challenge me. Keep me sane and drive me crazy. He would destroy me and save me.

  I just didn’t know it yet.

  I struggled against Pam Man as the new kid ran toward us. When he was close enough, he flung his backpack to the ground, never breaking his stride. In seconds he was beside me, his fist raised, his aim perfect. He swung, catching Pam Man in the jaw. Pam Man fell backward but kept a firm hold on me, hauling me with him as he fell.

  The boy pulled his slender arm back and let it fly again, hitting Pam Man in the nose. I heard a crunch a second before blood sprayed out of his nostrils, drops of it landing on me. The kid had just broke Pam Man’s nose.

  Pam Man howled with pain and let go of my arm, grabbing his face as blood poured from his nose. I scrambled away, watching as the new kid attacked again. His fist slammed into Pam Man a third time then a fourth, barely missing me.