Crooked

I chewed the inside of my cheek and watched Jane glue seashells to an old wooden picture frame in the middle of my living room floor. She wore knee high socks with short shorts and a royal blue tank top that hugged her curves. Slow, quiet music floated from the stereo as a cool, gentle breeze drifted through the open balcony doors, tickling the sheer curtains and blowing the loose strands of Jane’s hair around her face. This was the most peaceful I’d felt in days since my confrontations with both Adam and Wesley. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last long.

Voices could be heard outside the window, and they grew louder and louder until their words were clear and it was obvious they were fighting. Jane frowned up at me as we listened to Randy and his mother argue loudly on their balcony next door.

“If you would have been here, it wouldn’t have happened,” Randy shouted.

“I’m out there busting my ass at the club every night trying to keep this roof over your head, Randy,” Nicole yelled back. “I should be able to trust you not to burn the damn place down.”

“It was an accident, mom.”

“I don’t care. How the hell am I supposed to pay for this?” The anger in Nicole’s voice sent a shiver down my spine. The low, crackling of vocal cords as she attempted to scream as loud as she possibly could, took me back to memories of Vic.

“I’m sorry,” Randy’s voice shook. “I’m really sorry, okay? I was hungry. I was just trying to cook something to eat.”

“I told you not to use that old microwave.”

“What did you want me to do, mom? I can’t use the microwave, I can’t use the stove, because it’s broken, and I can’t order take out because you never leave me any money.”

“Why don’t you get a fuckin’ job,” Nicole spat, “and pay for your own fuckin’ food, Randy.”

“I’m fifteen,” Randy replied.

“I’ve been working since I was thirteen years old, that’s no excuse.”

“I don’t think anyone’s gonna pay me to take my clothes off and shake my ass.” A deafening silence surrounded us, and Jane’s hand shot up to cover her gaping mouth, her eyes open wide.

“You ungrateful little shit,” Nicole growled.

An audible smack could be heard and Jane gasped, looking up at me with concern furrowing her brow. I instantly stood from my place on the couch and held a finger over my lips, listening.

“I’m sorry,” Randy whimpered.

“Get inside,” Nicole barked. “You don’t speak to your mother that way.”

Randy pleaded, “No, mom, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry—“

“Shut up and get your ass inside.”

I stopped listening to Randy’s tear-filled pleas as his mother pushed him into the apartment and slammed the balcony door shut. Standing in the middle of my living room, my heart raced as I made a decision. I took a deep breath and started toward the door, determined to stop this woman from hurting him again.

“What are you going to do?” Jane asked from behind me.

“Just stay here,” I replied. “I’ll be right back.”

I knocked on the door of Randy’s apartment and waited. When no one answered, I knocked harder. Pressing my ear against the door, I could hear Nicole telling him to be quiet. It was obvious she wasn’t planning on letting me in, so I let myself in. I took a small step back and lifted my right foot, smashing it hard into the door near the knob, splitting and cracking the frame around it as it swung open.

“What the hell!” said Nicole. “Get out of my apartment!” In her hand, she held what looked like an antenna, broken off of an old radio or television.

“Randy, come here,” I said, ignoring his mother. The boy was bent over the arm of the couch, his pants pulled halfway down. His face was red and wet with tears as he scrambled to his feet, pulling them back up.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” his mother hissed.

I took a few steps further inside the apartment and held an arm out toward Randy, giving him a reassuring nod. “Come here,” I repeated.

Nicole grabbed the boy by the back of his shirt and said, “he’s not going anywhere. Get the hell out of my apartment or I’m calling the cops.”

My voice came out in a low, rattling boom; “I am the cops.” Even I flinched at the severity in my tone. “Let him go. I do not want to tell you what will happen if you don’t.”

Nicole glared at me, the collar of Randy’s t-shirt still gripped in her fist. The boy was not trembling, but I could tell he was afraid. His mother didn’t have the sense to be afraid. She gazed at me with a smug snarl on her face and all I wanted was to reach out a tear it free from her skull.

“The last time anyone ignored my requests,” I said, “they ended up choking to death on their own blood. Is this the sort of thing that interests you?”

She made a disgusted face and, after a second or two, let go of Randy. He lurched forward and came to stand just behind my left shoulder. I felt an odd maternal power as I shielded the boy from his mother, and my body hummed with adrenaline. I wasn’t a monster after all. Look at me, saving someone from harm for no reason other than it was the right thing to do.

“You stay away from this boy,” I said, “unless you want to go to jail.” I turned to look at Randy and my heart broke as I stared down at him, the fear radiating from his eyes. “Go next door, my friend Jane is there. She can make you some breakfast.”

Randy scurried out of the apartment as I turned back to Nicole. She stood with one hand on her hip, the twisted antenna still gripped in the other.

“Get the hell out,” said Nicole.

“Something tells me this isn’t the first time this has happened,” I replied, slowly moving toward her. My blood was boiling as I looked around the messy apartment. There were cigarette burns in the carpets, the fabric of the couch was torn to shreds, and the sink was piled high with dirty dishes. I continued walking past Nicole, eyeing the holes and dents that speckled the walls. “Why would you want to hurt him? He’s your son.”

“It’s none of your business,” she replied.

“It has just become my business, Ms. Moore.” I flashed her a look I hoped was intimidating and scary.

The kitchen smelled like trash and the floors were greasy. I opened the refrigerator to see a six pack of beer and some condiments, and stacks of old takeout boxes that were likely all rotten. The cupboards were bare, the stove practically in pieces in the corner, and the fridge was covered in papers; notices on pink and yellow and orange paper. “How often do you and Randy get into these fights?”

Nicole said nothing, just kept that stubborn, annoying smirk on her face. She was wearing far too much makeup, and blue eyeshadow that made my nostrils flare in disgust. Her lipstick was smeared around her mouth and mascara was smudged all over beneath her eyes.

“Answer me,” I said.

“No.” Nicole came toward me, attempting to scare me. She leaned in and spoke in a low whisper. “If you don’t leave right now, and give me back my kid, I’ll tell your boss about your little drug problem.”

“I don’t have a drug problem,” I said calmly, and smiled.

“I’ll call the cops right now, tell them you’re a druggie and a psycho, and that you broke into my apartment and kidnapped my son.”

“But that would be a lie.” I looked directly into Nicole’s eyes and felt the adrenaline coursing through me, like a warm gust of wind. “Who do you think they’ll believe? Me, a respected officer of the law, or you… A woman who sucks cocks for heroin behind the strip club while neglecting her child?” I reminded myself, then, to watch less reality television with Jane.

“Bitch.” Nicole raised the wire antennae and came at me with it, but I caught her by the elbow. I spun her body around and twisted her arm behind her back, pinning her against the dirty countertop. She screamed as I pulled the antennae from her hand, the sharp, broken end of it slicing through her skin. I twisted her other arm behind her back and pressed both of them up toward her shoulders until she stopped squirming.

“Do not do that,” I said into her ear, “ever again. Understand?”

“Fuck you,” she replied.

I pressed her arms up further, hearing a faint popping in one of her shoulders. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut. I can put you in jail today, right now, or I can walk away peacefully and take care of your son until you get this repulsive apartment cleaned up, and get your fucking life together, Nicole.”

She whimpered in response. I could feel the blood from her hand dripping down my wrist and I loosened my grip, taking a step back as she groaned and rubbed her shoulders in pain. I stared down at the blood on my hand, and remembered Michael Twins. I remembered cutting him open, soaking my hands in his blood, and smearing it on the walls, spelling out the word; COWARD. I remembered propping his crimson soaked body up against the wall, his insides falling out into his lap, and standing back to admire my work. Staring down at my hand now, I couldn’t look away. The blood dripped, a deep red, just like the blood of Michael Twins. I could feel the hollowness inside me being filled with a sick, haunting desire for more… more blood. I felt the fury in my eyes as I gazed down, until something hit me hard in the side of the face.

Blinking wildly against my blurring vision, I saw Nicole standing there holding a small metal saucepan, winding up to hit me with it again. I ducked out of the way, swinging my fist around to connect with the back of her neck as my foot swept into her leg, knocking her to the ground. I leapt on top of her and punched her face as hard as I could. Nicole’s eyes rolled back in her head, unconscious, as blood oozed from her nose. When I looked up, Jane was standing wide-eyed in the doorway.

“Call 9-1-1,” I said.

#

I stood on the balcony that night, after Randy had fallen asleep on the couch, and gazed out over the city. I’d had plenty of time to calm down after my altercation with Nicole; Jane, Randy, and I had answered millions of questions for the police. Part of me had wondered why Adam wasn’t there, but another part of me knew. He needed more time to process all the information I’d recently dropped on him. I could understand that. But I worried about him, and realized that this was the first time I’d ever had people in my life who I truly cared for, and missed when they weren’t around. Sure, I’d been attached to Wesley once, long ago, but that felt like ages ago, like a memory from a past life gone dark.

The sliding door rolled open behind me and Jane emerged, wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair wet from the shower. As she slid the door shut, I could just see the silhouette of Randy on the couch, illuminated by the dim blue light of the television. Jane stood next to me, so silent and still that I knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Jane lied. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t make me interrogate you, ma’am,” I replied.

She giggled, and my heart rate quickened as she turned to look up at me, her deep brown eyes gleaming through long lashes. I decided I liked how short she was without high heels on.

“I was just scared,” Jane shrugged. “That’s all.”

“What were you scared of?”

“I don’t know, the whole thing just escalated so quickly. And the look on your face when I walked in there… I thought you were gonna kill her.” Jane breathed out a laugh, as if my killing Nicole was totally and completely unheard of.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“No, I’m not afraid of you at all. If anything, you make me feel safe. Like, if anyone ever tried to hurt me–”

“I would never let anyone hurt you.”

She smiled up at me, like sunshine streaming through storm clouds. “I know.”

I watched Jane drift off to sleep that night, wondering if I deserved her; her kindness, her time, her affection. She was gentle and sweet, borderline innocent, and completely oblivious to what I really was. Could I possibly keep my deepest and darkest secrets from her and still be open to the possibility of feeling anything for her? Could I effectively accept her affection without feeling like it was too much, like I wasn’t worthy of it? Was I worthy?

If I’d been anywhere but my own apartment, I probably would have left. I would have abandoned her in her sleep and disappeared without a trace, never to speak to her again. I thought maybe I still could. I could go now, run, leave this whole town, this whole life behind and start over.

But then who would take care of Randy? Who would put Jane’s robe in the dryer while she was in the shower, so she would have something warm to wrap herself in when she got out? And who would make sure Adam was sober and dressed and shaved and presentable for work, so he wouldn’t lose his job?

I feel asleep fast for the first time in months, comforted by the fact that I could not leave. I could not run away, and I could not move on and forget this life, because I had people who needed me, and that was the best feeling in the world. One I had never felt before, as long as I’d lived.