by S M Olivier
“Blake,” he leaped out of his own seat. I turned and watched him stride towards me. “You don’t have to stay here. You can come home with me.”
I gave him a look of astonishment. I didn’t know what he was suggesting, but from past experiences, I knew to trust no one. I knew even handsome, wealthy, sweet talkers could hide the soul of a demon. I learned long ago most people never did anything out of the kindness of their hearts. Everyone had an ulterior motive. No one did something for nothing, and I was cursed with good looks. I knew what they wanted from me. Why else would he suggest I come home with him?
I felt my eyes well with tears. I thought he was different. I thought he was a great teacher. “What do you suggest?” I asked angrily, my tears spilling over. “You helped me with that creep tonight, you were stalking me, and insisted on taking me home, so now you want some sort of payment. I may live in a trailer, but I’m not trash.”
He was quickly by my side, confusion clearly evident in his eyes. “What are you talking about?” He gently brushed the tears from my face, and I tried to ignore the energy I felt course through me from his touch. His eyes widened as if he had felt it too. I had to remind myself that he was my teacher and he was attractive, so those feelings were normal “It’s not what you are implying. I see the bruises you try to hide. I see the shadows in your eyes. I saw the fear when we pulled up. Who owns the Lexus, Blake? Have they been doing stuff to you?”
My anger quickly deflated. He was concerned about me. I didn’t know what to say or do. I was tired. I was tired of the desolation, the fear, the hopelessness that constantly plagued me. I couldn’t let him in. Every time I let someone close, they left me or died. I had to do this on my own. I took a deep breath. “Thanks for the ride,” I repeated as I quickly left him.
“Blake,” I heard him call, but I had already shut the door. I knew he wouldn’t follow me.
I wish I had stayed in his warm, nice smelling car for a while longer. Instead, I was greeted by the sight of Heidi in a sexually explicit act on the couch with Tom. I quickly averted my eyes, taking in the liquor and pill bottles littering the floor, and the dime bags of weed and lines of coke on the coffee table. “Sorry,” I mumbled turning to the right and running into my room.
I heard Heidi yell at Tom and me laughingly asking me if I wanted to join in. I pretended not to hear them as I closed my door, locking it behind me. Last month, I found some door hardware at the thrift store, including several types of locks, and installed a doorknob. I no longer wanted to be a victim in my own home.
It angered me to no end how open and carefree they were with their exploitations. In no way was this a healthy environment for a seventeen-year-old girl like me, let alone my impressionable sister. She shouldn’t ever be subjected to this debauchery. They could have kept all that crap in their own bedroom, but instead, they were so self-absorbed that they did everything in a location that Ella could see.
I felt my pulse quicken with anger as I turned to look at Ella. She was sleeping soundly in her bed. We shared a small eight by ten room. She slept on the lower bunk, and I slept on the top. She was still dressed in the clothes I had put her in this morning. Two empty wrappers of peanut butter crackers were clutched in one hand, and her Nintendo DS was clutched in the other (I saved up for it for a long time and bought her a used one with used games for her birthday months ago).
It was clear that Heidi didn’t feel like ‘moming’ again today, and Ella had to fend for herself after getting home. I kept a secret stash of food in our room. She must have felt the need to get food out of the trunk with the false bottom in our closet. At seven, she knew not to tell her mother about it. I learned long ago that anything left in the kitchen was eaten quickly. Heidi and her boyfriends didn’t care if we went hungry just as long as they had something to eat while they were partying it up.
I tried to shield Ella from the ugliness of our life as much as possible, but I still taught her how to fend for herself in situations like this. Ella was Heidi’s welfare check. Heidi never tried to bond with her own daughter. Before my father had died, she was indifferent towards me. After my dad died and she found out she was pregnant, I expected her to stop hiding her animosity towards me. I never expected her to turn her back on her own child.
I remember overhearing a conversation she had with her mother shortly after we moved in here. She was lamenting the fact that she never wanted children. If my father hadn’t taken care of her so well she would have left him long ago, after she found out he had a “brat.” She hated the fact that she couldn’t just turn me over to the state, but the only way she would continue getting money for me was if I stayed in her care. Then she found out too late that she was pregnant with Ella, and she didn’t have the money to “get rid of her,” so she was stuck with two brats. I learned early on how to take care of Ella.
At ten years old, I dropped her off at the sitters around the corner before jumping on the school bus. After school I would pick her back up. Her babysitter didn’t care who was dropping her off and picking her up as long as she was getting paid.
After Heidi’s mom had passed away, Heidi turned to the hardcore drugs, and that’s when things went from bad to worse. This trailer park was a cesspool of sex, drugs, and alcohol, and Heidi turned to it. She immersed herself in her new life.
I was beyond exhausted as I peeled off my clothing. I desperately needed a shower, but there was no way I was leaving this room again. With a deep sigh, I covered Ella up, cleaned up her trash, and put her DS away before climbing into bed. I set my alarm and hoped sleep would claim me quickly.
Chapter 2
Just as I was drifting off, his sweet, smooth voice came to me.
“What happened?!” His thoughts drifted into my near slumber.
“Nothing,” I muttered back in my thoughts.
“Honey, I felt your fear. I felt your panic,” he gently chided.
If I didn’t think I was a freak enough, this sweet male voice had been plaguing me for years. Well, since the death of my father to be exact, seven years ago. The first time I heard him I was sitting by our inground pool at our old house. I never felt more alone, so grief-stricken. After the funeral, I sat by the pool as Heidi flitted around the house entertaining our “guest.” I didn’t understand back then, as I do now, but she had quickly gotten over the unexpected death of my father and was quickly on the prowl for a replacement supporter. She was beautiful back then with her olive complexion, long dark hair, and doe-like hazel eyes. She had a beautiful hourglass figure. The drugs had caught up with her, her hair had lost its luster, her skin became wan and sickly looking. She was almost sickly gaunt with her sunken in cheeks, protruding collar bones, sagging deflated breast, with stick arms and legs.
No one was paying attention to the orphan. I didn’t remember my mother, I had never even seen a picture of her. All I had were stories from my dad about her beauty, vivaciousness, and popularity. Other than her looks, my light had been extinguished the day I lost my dad. I had been outgoing once, optimistic, trusting. My dad had laughed at me and said I never met a stranger that didn’t become my friend.
“Are you okay?” the boy had asked in his childish voice. As I grew, his voice deepened as well. At thirteen his voice even had the cracking of an adolescent.
I had looked around, panicked. There had been no children at the funeral, save myself.
“Who are you? Where are you?” I stood up and looked around.
“Well,” he seemed to hesitate. “It’s kind of hard to explain. I think you’re gifted like me.”
Back then I spoke out loud to him. I hadn’t learned how to project my thoughts yet. “More like crazy,” I muttered as I sat back down, placing my feet in the pool.
“You’re not crazy,” he said insistently. “I thought I was the first time I felt your presence, but my dad assures me that it’s totally natural to feel this way if you are gifted and have a connection with someone.”
I was so confused back then, and I
had no clue what this boy was talking about; it was freaking me out. “Stop talking to me,” I said in anger and fear.
“I can’t,” he said sadly. “You’re sad and I can feel it.”
“I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
We continued our conversation until Heidi had interrupted me. “Blake,” she said with feigned concern, a glass of wine in her hand, and her arm threaded through the arm of a man old enough to be her father. “Who are you talking to?”
I instantly recognized my dad’s boss. I also spied enough on my dad to know that Mr. Jones was a “pervert” and liked his women younger. He was always on the lookout for some “trophy” girlfriend.
I was slightly naïve back then, as I shrugged and said. “I don’t know. He won’t tell me his name.”
“Who won’t tell you his name? Where is he?” Mr. Jones asked with true concern. He may have been a pervert, but he had always been nice to me.
“I don’t know,” I responded innocently. “He’s in my head. He says I’m gifted like he is.”
Twenty-four hours later I was shipped to a juvenile mental facility. I spent two weeks there, only to be told that I may have a split personality disorder manifested by the death of my father. Nobody believed me. Eventually, the boy had returned to me. He tried to tell me the ungifted couldn’t understand us or the abilities we may have. He apologized to me and told me this gift was new to him, so he was still learning how to “reach” me. He coached me on what to tell the next counselor so I could get released out of the facility.
It was scary. I saw and witnessed so many disturbing things. I never realized children could be prone to the disorders that I had encountered. Even though they tried to separate us by the level of our danger to others, I still heard the screaming and crying at night.
Eventually, I learned to talk to him through my thoughts. For years now, he has been frustrated that I wouldn’t “drop my barriers” so we can communicate all the time. I refused to, my stint in the facility was enough to scar me for life. I may not be crazy, or I may be, but I wasn’t willing to explore it further. On numerous occasions, I asked for his name, but he never told me so I spitefully wouldn’t tell him my own.
I could tell I frustrated him when I constantly changed his name for my own amusement. When we were younger he always called me girl; as we got older he started giving me the cutesy nicknames that boyfriends and girlfriends gave each other. It was oddly comforting.
After a few attempts at dating, I knew I couldn’t date. I was considered trailer trash, so I was either pursued by those who wanted a quick lay or pursued by those that wanted me to follow the dark path that my stepmom and so many of her other friends were on.
Plus, with school, work, and Ella, I didn’t have much time to entertain the thought of having a conventional relationship. Maybe after I graduated high school, got a great paying job, and moved myself and Ella out of this crap hole, I could think about it.
I was nearly back to sleep when he said insistently. “Honey, what happened?”
“I’m tired,” I said a bit crossly. “It wasn’t anything serious. I’m fine. Jace helped me,” I said too tired to converse or think clearly.
“Jace?! Jace who?!” he asked urgently.
I hadn’t realized my slip of tongue, as I carelessly slipped into slumber.
“Honey?!” his voice said urgently in my head, but I was too tired to respond.
My alarm went off way too early. I got less than three hours of sleep. I was thankful I wasn’t scheduled for work tonight. I had been having a great tip week. I didn’t plan on picking up any extra shifts. With a groan, I climbed out of bed. If I weren’t so determined to prove everyone wrong, I would just stay home today. No one expected trailer trash to succeed in life. Most teachers were shocked when they found out where I came from. My grade point average was well over 4.0, and I needed it to stay that way.
Heidi wouldn’t care if I stayed home. She didn’t even know what day of the week it was on most days. If I chose to skip school, though, I would have to find someplace for myself and Ella to hide. Heidi was nasty to be around when she first woke up.
I quietly crept into the living room to see if the coast was clear. From past experience I knew Tom wouldn’t be up for another hour; Heidi was never up before noon. It shocked me that Tom was so successful with the hours he kept and the number of drugs he did. He was one of the best actors I had ever met. He was a fully functioning addict, and behind his attractive and debonair smiles, I knew evil lurked within.
I had one hour to clean up any booze, drugs, and other drug paraphernalia. I made the mistake of flushing the drugs down the toilet and pouring out the alcohol in the sink years ago, but I was beaten so hard I had to skip school for days to recover. I didn’t do that anymore. Instead, I started stashing everything in the cupboard above the fridge. Heidi knew where to find them when she wanted them again.
I slipped on a pair of cleaning gloves and cringed as I picked up the used condoms and threw them away. I cleaned everything quickly so I could take a shower before I woke up Ella for hers. I hoped Heidi wasn’t home when I got home from school so I could run the vacuum over the old mustard yellow ‘70’s shag carpet and clean the mismatched floral couch and plaid love seat. The old wooden entertainment center that housed a small nineteen-inch T.V. needed a good dusting as well. The faded, well-worn linoleum in the kitchen and dining room needed a good sweeping and mopping as well. Heidi and her boyfriends were slobs.
My father had been meticulously clean and he had raised me to be the same. I was raising Ella the same way. We kept our room neat. There was no other option since it was so small. Over the years I’ve acquired some furnishings to make it homier and more personalized. It was our own alternate reality.
I jumped in the shower, washed my hair, and cleaned my body in under ten minutes. As I was exiting the bathroom, I was both surprised and angry at myself for not bringing my clothes with me as I saw Tom leaning in the cramped, narrow hallway. I was only wrapped in a towel, threadbare and well worn, that barely covered me. My hair was thrown up in another towel.
His eyes were narrowed as he scrutinized my body. “I had a feeling you were hiding a knock out body under all those baggy clothes,” he leered at me as he took a step closer.
I know I was beautiful, and I wasn’t acting conceited. I know for my small frame I had surprisingly above average sized breast that needed no push-up bra or padding to enhance them. I know my rear end filled my jeans out nicely. There was a reason I downplayed my looks and figure. I only wore makeup and form-fitting clothes at work.
I froze with panic. “This side of the house is off limits,” I said frostily.
To the right of the house was the room I shared with Ella and a small bathroom. The living room and kitchen separated our room from the left side of the house where Heidi’s room and bathroom were.
“Well, I was hoping to find a towel.” He was average height for a guy, but he was thick and still imposing to my five feet even petite frame. His hand reached out to grab the towel wrapped around me. “Looks like you’re done using this one. Maybe I can use it now.”
“Get off me,” I hissed. I don’t know how I was able to make people do stuff sometimes. I don’t know how I was able to make that man stop last night, or how I stopped the psycho creep that had ill intentions a couple of years ago. I made him leave our trailer and never return. I had found him in our room. I knew he was up to no good, as he was nearly naked standing over my sister’s sleeping body. I don’t know how I paralyzed the man that Heidi had invited to party with her. He had drugged me and started to molest me in the backseat of his car. I don’t know how I stopped my bully in seventh grade from continually harassing me and making fun of me. I don’t know how I stopped the crazy Mexican down the street from beating on his two young sons. This freak thing I did came and went when it wanted to.
“Blake,” Ella’s little voice came from our bedroom door. She was frightened. I could he
ar it in her voice. “I’m hungry.”
I took the opportunity to slip past Tom as he stumbled backward. He acted somewhat human-like to her. He even brought her treats. He wouldn’t do anything to me in front of her; at least I hoped. I wasn’t going to test my theory. I slammed my door behind me, gently pushing Ella back.
“Let’s hurry up and get ready.” I tried to feign enthusiasm as I tried to calm my shattered nerves and stop my shaking hands. “If we hurry we can even stop by the Grub Hub for breakfast.”
“Pinky promise,” she asked excitedly, all traces of tiredness gone from her beautiful blue eyes.
“Pinky promise,” I feigned another smile.
Tom was getting bolder and bolder. He was like a venomous snake, hiding in the weeds and anticipating his strike. I didn’t know how much longer I could avoid and hide from him. I know he wanted to molest me. I had been through this unwelcome attention from men too many times. I had been molested once before. Not through penetration, but I had been personally violated in places where I didn’t want to be touched. I had been forced to touch men I hadn’t wanted to touch. I shuddered in revulsion.
I will be graduating in less than 7 months. I had a small amount of money hoarded away. I had to get Ella and myself away from this place. I needed to figure out a way to make sure Ella never suffered the way I have. I had to find a way for Heidi to let me take her. I knew she was spiteful enough that she would deny me the opportunity, even though she wasn’t really a mother to her at all except in the biological sense. Ella was so beautiful, so innocent. I never wanted her light to fade.