by Sky Corgan
“When you walk around with cuts and bruises all over you, I have every damn right.” I'm not backing down from this. She's quitting. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. I'm not leaving here until she agrees to quit.
“And then what? Move in with you?” She makes it sound like the most preposterous idea ever. Like it would be worse than death. Worse than what she's going through now.
“Yes. No. I don't know. Take some of that money and live off of it for a while. Find that better job you were talking about. Do anything. Just not this.” I gesture to the cut below her eye.
She reaches up and traces a fingertip delicately across the torn flesh. For a moment, it seems like she's thinking, weighing her options. Then she shakes her head and drops her hand back to her lap. “It will heal. They always heal.”
“You can't pretend like this doesn't bother you.” I look at her incredulously. Is she already so dead and cold inside that it doesn't matter what these sleazeballs do to her? I refuse to believe that.
“You think it doesn't bother me? Of course it bothers me, Knox. You think I enjoy being beaten and used and…” Her eyes brim with tears. She's teetering on the brink of another sobbing fit.
My soft side opens up, and I lean forward to pull her into my arms. “Hey, now. It's going to be all right. You know, you said you were only going to do this for a little while. Now would be a great time to pull out. I'm sure you've saved a lot of money. You can quit now. Everything will be okay. You'll see.”
For a few minutes, we just sit there in silence. She allows me to hold her, mewling against me. It's short-lived though. She pulls out of my arms, straightens herself, and dries her tears with the back of her hand. “I'm scared, Knox.”
“Tell me what to do, and I'll do it.” I want her to tell me where Edward is. And then I want to make him tell me where her violent john is. I'll kill them both if I have to, or at the very least, make them wish they were dead.
“This man, he keeps asking for me.” She gazes down at her hands. They're trembling uncontrollably. “I thought it would only be once. Guys like that… Marcy told me they usually want different girls every time. Not him though. He says he likes my fear. He says…” The trembling travels up her body until she's a shaking mess. I reach out to hold her again, but she moves out of reach. “No, Knox. I know what you're trying to do, but no. This is all on me. I got myself into this mess. I'll get myself out of it.”
“How? Tell me how.” I need answers. I need to know that she's going to be all right. Seeing her like this with fear seeping from every pore, it doesn't look like she has any courage left.
“Edward says it's just a few more times. The guy is in town for business. He has to leave eventually.”
“No, Delilah.” I shake my head at her. “That's not how you handle this.”
“Things will return to normal once he's gone. I'll take a few days off to heal, and then I'll start taking on normal clients again.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” I ball my fists at my sides, resisting the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she understands how ludicrous her words sound. “If you keep doing this, you're only exposing yourself to more guys like that.”
“The money is too good, Knox. You don't understand.” She looks up at me timidly.
“I do understand,” I insist. “Yeah, the money is good. And it's hard to make that kind of money anywhere else, but is it really worth this?” I nod towards her body, all covered in cuts and bruises, many of which I'm sure I can't see beneath the dress. I don't even want to think about those.
“Yes. It's worth it.” In an instant, she sucks up all of her tears, finding new resolve. “It's worth it not to be poor like our parents. It's worth it to have a better life. If you want to keep wading around in poverty, then good on you, but I've found my way out, and I'm going to take it.”
My mouth drops open in disbelief. Is she actually insulting me after I came here to help her? She's acting like a child. But she's not a child. It's hard to recognize that sometimes. It's hard to accept it.
“This isn't the way, Delilah,” I say softly.
“Then what is, Knox?” she snaps, spitting my name at me like it's a vile curse. “Tell me, because if you have a better idea, I'd really like to hear it.” The protective grasp she held around herself relaxes a bit. Now she just looks cynical.
My mind is going a million miles per second as I search for an answer. Every entry-level job I've ever heard of whizzes through my memory bank like a montage of permanent poverty-level employment. The truth is that I can't think of anything better.
“Please, Delilah. If you feel like you can't stop, then find a different company to work with. One that doesn't let their clients abuse their girls.” My voice is practically pleading.
“There is no such company. There's this one or being a hooker. That's it.” Her gaze falls to the floor as her vulnerable side starts to shine through again.
“Have you looked?”
“No,” she admits sheepishly.
“Then maybe you should start. If you can't give it up, then go somewhere better. Just look. Okay? Ask around. Tell Edward you're sick when he calls you for your next appointment with this john.”
“Fine. I will.” I know she's lying to get me to leave, but I accept it anyway, hoping that she'll do the right thing. Hoping she'll realize that this is too dangerous to continue. “I need to get to sleep, Knox.” She lifts her hand to her temple as if the conversation is giving her a headache.
I take the cue and stand up to leave. She follows me to the door, not even bothering to look at me. This is what she does when she's upset with me. Avoid me. She'll get over it, and hopefully when she does, she'll realize that I'm right. This can't continue.
“I'll call to check up on you,” I tell her as I cross the threshold into the chilly morning air.
“Fine.” She closes the door on me without so much as an upward glance. There's nothing I can do now. It's all in her hands.
I walk down the stairs, feeling like I made little progress, if any. At least she stopped crying. Maybe she'll lie in bed now and think about what I said. Perhaps she'll just go to sleep and forget all about it. There's no way of knowing.
I drive home, still feeling tense. It's like my muscles have frozen in place from stress. If I'm lucky, Marcy will still be at my apartment, and I can hit her up for a back massage. I'm not angry at her anymore for not coming with me. She probably saved me another fight. Things would have gone a lot differently if she had been there.
I still feel helpless, but there's nothing more I can do aside from hanging outside their apartment and stalking Delilah to her job. I don't have time for that though, and she'd probably catch me anyway.
Marcy's car is still in the parking lot when I pull up in front of my apartment. I climb the stairs to find her asleep in my bed. She's naked under the covers, looking like an angel. If I wasn't so tired, I might be tempted to stay up and watch her sleep all night. It's comforting to know that she's safe. She may be a blonde, but she seems leagues smarter than my sister. I don't have to worry about her as much.
I sit on the side of the bed in silence, watching her for several minutes before I finally take my jacket off and pull my shirt over my head. By the time I'm undressed and crawling into bed beside her, she stirs, yawning back to life, her blue eyes fluttering open and looking on me with warmth and adoration.
“How'd it go?” Her voice is marred with sleep.
“She's not going to stop.” I stare up at the ceiling, stretching my arm out to allow Marcy to roll against my chest.
“She seems really determined.” It's like the argument we had earlier is forgotten. Marcy rests her head against me, placing her hand on my stomach and lazily running her nails over my skin. My body comes to life from her touch, but I need sleep more than sex right now.
“I don't know how to make her less determined.” I set my hand on top of Marcy's, flattening it on my stomach.
�
�She's your sister, not mine. I don't have a clue what motivates her.”
“Money.” It's an easy answer. Money motivates everyone who grew up on the poor side. And unfortunately, I don't have enough of it to give her to make her step away from the path of destruction she's on.
“Money doesn't buy everything,” Marcy says absentmindedly.
It does though. I think it, but I don't say it. It might not buy love, but it buys the illusion of love. It might not buy good health, but it pays for hospital bills. Money makes the world go round. He who has the most money has the most power. He who has the most money can afford to buy girls he can beat on and pay for their silence. My blood boils at the thought.
“There's got to be another call girl agency that doesn't allow their clients to get violent.” I'm thinking out loud now. Any option that I can find to get my sister out of the situation she's in, I'm willing to investigate.
“I don't know if there's any place like that. I know that there's none around here. One of the girls once told me about an agency in New York that she got fired from.”
“That's not very far. It's worth checking into. Can you ask the girl about it?” I glance down at Marcy, gently rubbing her back. I suddenly remember the back massage I wanted, but it's too late for that. We're both settled into bed. I don't want to seem like a dick by asking for it.
“We don't cross paths very often, but next time I see her, I'll ask.” Marcy snuggles closer, sighing contentedly.
“Please do.” The grass has to be greener on the other side. If not in New York, then somewhere else. Delilah can afford to move now, and while I wouldn't like having to drive farther away to visit her, it would be worth it to know she's safe. I just wonder if Marcy would go with her.
I stare down at the silky blonde hair that's tickling my chest and neck. I'd be sad to let Marcy go. We've become close these past few weeks, in more than just the physical sense. She's become a constant in my life. A source of comfort and beauty in an otherwise ugly and harsh world. I think I might even be starting to get feelings for her. It's an unsettling thought.
I try to brush it away and relax, letting my mind drift. It always comes back to the cut on Delilah's face and the way the skin was starting to turn purple. Somewhere out there is a man without a conscience, a man who gets off on hurting women for fun. Somewhere out there is a man I want to kill.
CHAPTER SIX
My bed is empty when I finally wake up around noon. Marcy crept out of my apartment without making a sound. She's good like that. Very catlike. Sleek and quiet. And man, can she purr. I grin as I think about it, stretching and wishing I had a bit more energy last night. If she was still here, I'd make time to be inside her. It would be the perfect way to relieve all the stress from this bullshit that's going on with Delilah.
Oh, well. She's not here, and it's time to get ready for work.
Hopefully, Marcy will do her part and talk to that girl. If she's a good friend, she'll hunt the girl down, not just wait until they cross paths. I pray that she does. The sooner I can get Delilah away from Edward, the better.
By the time I get to the bar, I'm exhausted. All of this running around and staying up late is starting to catch up with me.
I man the door like a sentry, checking IDs and looking for unsavory characters. When I'm not watching the door, I'm peering inside the club, scouting the faces for drama about to break out. I have a sinking feeling in my chest tonight. You know the feeling that something is about to go wrong, but you don't know what it is? It makes me keep a closer eye on the customers. Like I'm looking for Delilah's john. Like I expect him to be here tonight for some reason. I wish she'd told me his name. That way I could be checking for it when I scan the IDs. It's unlikely a rich guy would show up here though. This isn't exactly the type of establishment where wealthy people hang out. More like the bad elements of the neighborhood. If I was rich, I'd definitely pass this place by without a second thought.
The feeling nags me til the end of the night, and it follows me home afterward. I just can't seem to shake it.
I give Marcy and Delilah a call when I get home, even though it's almost three o'clock in the morning. No one answers. I'm not surprised. They're probably both working late tonight. It's like that more often than not.
With nothing else to do, I go to bed, but sleep doesn't come easy. When I am finally able to pass out, I don't dream. I like it better that way. Usually, I have nightmares about fighting and shit that happened to me when I was a kid. But when I wake, that feeling is still there, pounding through my body like a bad hangover.
I climb out of bed and go to the kitchen, cracking four eggs into a glass for my daily dose of protein. Breakfast of champions. Eggs and coffee. I don't have time to cook them, not with my schedule. Not that I would have cooked them anyway. Uncle Lou told me this is the easiest and cheapest way to get my protein in, so I've been doing it ever since. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore.
I put the empty glass in the sink next to the other dishes I haven't washed yet. Then I return to my room to get dressed for the gym. A strong throbbing in my heart causes me to grab my chest. For a moment, I stand hunched over, wondering what in the hell is wrong with me. Maybe I should go to the hospital.
I straighten myself when it dies down and then try to shake it off. No. I can't afford to go to the hospital. That's a luxury for rich people.
I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a muscle shirt and grab my keys to head out the door. Just when I'm closing it behind me, the phone rings. It's probably Delilah. I get to the phone before it stops ringing. My pulse is pounding in my ears, and that strange feeling returns with a vengeance.
My voice comes out in a pissed-off jumble as I speak into the phone. “Hello?”
“Knox.” It's my mother. “I'm so glad you answered.” Her tone is completely distraught.
“What's wrong?” The tightness in my chest doubles. My mother only calls me when my father is coming home, not that I care about that. She never calls me like this. Never sounds like this.
“Delilah,” she coughs out. The phone wants to drop from my hand. I know what she's going to say before she says it. It's what I feared all along. I knew this was going to happen. Why wouldn't Delilah listen to me?
My fist clenches around the receiver, so firmly that it might crack. Anger surges through me, drowning out the sickening feeling like a wave. “Where is she?” As soon as I get to the hospital, I'm going to make her tell me where this Edward guy is. And then I'm going to make him tell me where the john is. I'm not playing anymore. I'm not taking no for an answer. These sons of bitches are going to pay for what they did to my sister.
“She's dead, Knox.” My mother bursts into uncontrollable sobs.
My mouth falls open. My mind goes blank. I'm not hearing her right. I can't be hearing her right. Tears burn my eyes. My body goes numb. I don't need to ask how it happened. For several moments, I can't think of anything to say.
“Delilah is dead, Knox,” she wails in grief. I want to cry too, but I can't. I have to be strong.
“Did they catch the guy who did it?” That's all I care about. Killing him won't bring my sister back, but it will make me feel better. It will even the score. No. Not even it. Nothing can replace what has been taken from me. But I can't just let this guy walk free.
“Yes.” Her words are barely audible through her crying. “They have him in custody. Apparently, Delilah was… I can't even say it.”
I lick my lips, soothing the dryness that has overtaken my mouth. It's like I swallowed a dozen cotton balls. I feel helpless. More helpless than ever before. Where's my revenge? Will I even get it now? Will they let this guy go free because he has money? That's usually what happens. And what about Edward? Did they close him down?
I feel like I should go console my mother, but I need to talk to Marcy. I can't save Delilah. It's too late for that. She made her bed, and she died in it. I need to know what happened though, and Marcy will probably know more than my mothe
r does.
“I love you, Mom. I've got to go. I'll be over later.” I hang up before she has a chance to reply. Telling her that I love her… I wish I'd said it to Delilah before it was too late. I wish we hadn't fought. But more than that, I wish she'd listened to me.
I call work and let them know I'm not coming in. Then I sit down on the sofa in the living room and let raw emotion take over. I cry. And cry and cry and cry like I never have before. Growing up, I was taught that crying is a sign of weakness. But I feel so weak right now I can't help it. So useless. If only. If only, if only, if only.
The world is full of what ifs. A person can easily drown in them. Get sucked into the past to the point that they can't live in the present. I know this as well as anyone, but my mind still puts me through the paces. I experience a full range of emotion sitting there. Anger. Grief. Frustration. I'm mad at my sister for being too dumb to know when to bow out. I'm pissed at Marcy for ever introducing her to that lifestyle. I'm angry that the cops got a hold of the john before I had a chance to show him what real pain is.
Hell, I couldn't show him what real pain is. Physical pain is nothing next to losing someone you love. And I'm not about to go killing innocents to prove my point. But still, the hateful thought crosses my mind. Dark thoughts of destroying everything this guy ever loved. He deserves as much. But it's out of my hands now. I can only hope the legal system does the right thing.
It takes the good part of an hour to pull myself together. I return to my room to change into a pair of jeans and a blue hooded long-sleeved shirt, then I pick up the phone and hesitate before dialing Delilah's phone number. It seems strange pressing the digits when I know she won't answer. I'm not looking for her to answer though. I need to speak to Marcy.
No one picks up.
Patience isn't one of my virtues, so I leave my apartment and head over to their place. I sit in the parking lot and wait for Marcy to get home, much like I did the night that I found out Delilah had been beaten. Except this time, I'm not even sure Marcy will return. She could have gotten scared and taken off out of town. There's no way of knowing. All I can do is wait.