Wicked Redemption (Dark Book 2)

by Ashton Blackthorne

  “Okay, Donovan, Ms. Pope is just going to step out for a moment.” She left as I sat there feeling the twisted knots of doom in my stomach.

  Coach Baxter smiled down at me.

  “Ms. Pope filled me in, Ayden. Everything is going to be okay. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

  He nodded I should lift my shirt.

  Gently, I pulled my Soundgarden t-shirt up. My ribs ached terribly. It hurt to take deep breaths.

  Coach Baxter sucked in his breath.

  “Ayden, who did this to you?” His voice was more serious than I’d ever heard it. I suddenly became filled with fear.

  “I fell.”

  He looked into my face.

  “No, Ayden, you didn’t. Someone hurt you very badly. I need to know who.”

  I looked down.

  “I don’t know his name. Some guy my mom brought home last night.” I bit my lip as I tried not to look at him.

  “What guy? Is it her boyfriend?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, just some random guy. A client.”

  His eyes widened.

  “I see. Can I bring Ms. Pope back in?”

  I nodded. I wished they’d just let me leave.

  They spoke outside in the hall for a few minutes. She gestured to Ms. Phillips, the school secretary who gasped then nodded.

  “Ayden, we’re going to have to call CPS. This cannot happen again.”

  “NO!” I screamed bolting towards the door.

  Coach Baxter quickly caught me and pulled me back to the chair.

  “Ayden, whoever hurt you may hurt your mom too. You don’t want that.”

  I shook my head.

  “No, he’s her client! He’s not going to hurt her. She needs him to make money.” I clasped my hand over my mouth. I was never supposed to tell. Now everyone would know she was a hooker.

  “Ayden, it’s not safe for you there. I think your mom needs some time to get things straightened out in her own life. Then she can take better care of you.” Ms. Pope sat beside me.

  I looked down at the floor. My back ached terribly. My ribs hurt more and more with each passing minute.

  “And you need to see a doctor, honey. Coach Baxter said you may have some broken ribs based on the extensive bruising he’s seeing there.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  Ms. Pope smiled and took my hand.

  “A very nice lady is going to come and take you to a wonderful home. It’s just for few days until we can get your mom some help.”

  I thought about it. Maybe this is what Mom needed to straighten her life out. Maybe then she’d be a good mom.

  Or maybe….

  “I have a dad!” I exclaimed.

  “Where is he?”

  My shoulders sagged.

  “I don’t know. I never met him.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  I shook my head sadly.

  “Well, this is just for a little while. First, the lady will take you to the doctor. Give you some medicine to help you feel better.”

  The door swung open and a beautiful lady with golden curls extended her hand to me.

  “Hi, I’m Ms. James, but you can call me Sue. I’m from CPS and I’m here to take you to the doctor, okay?”

  I looked back at Coach Baxter and Ms. Pope. She had tears in her eyes and he gave me a shaky smile.

  “We’ll be seeing you, champ. Feel better.”

  Ms. Pope threw her arms around me.

  “It’s going to be okay, Ayden.”

  But it wasn’t…..

  “So you went into foster care?” Ash’s eyes widened. The fire in the fireplace was dwindling down to ashes.

  I nodded and sucked on my e cig.

  “Yep. And it’s as bad as you’d expect.”

  They told me I’d go back home in a week. Then, it was a month which turned into six months which turned into a year. Mom had to enter drug treatment which she refused to do for six months. Finally, they threatened her with terminating her rights. I got bounced from foster home to foster home for seven months. Finally, they placed me in a home I liked. The parents were well to do and treated me kindly. I attended a private school and for the first time got to play sports like normal boys.

  “Ash, I was so happy at the Carltons’. They couldn’t have kids of their own, so they were happy to have me. Mrs. C was a cardiac surgeon and Mr. C was a software engineer. They had a fancy house and gave me everything I wanted. It was definitely a step up from living in a two bedroom row house on the south side. The Carltons lived on the Gold Coast.”

  “Why didn’t they adopt you?”

  “Why do you think?” I laughed bitterly.

  Ash looked bewildered.

  “The fucking system, Ash. Mom got her shit together at the last minute and they pulled me out of there. Sent me back to live in her shitty dump. Within weeks, she was back on smack, meth and coke. Went right back to hooking too. I was shattered. After that, I started using hard shit.”

  “What?” Ash’s face went pale. His hands twisted in his lap.

  I nodded dragging on the e cig.

  “My life was fucked. I figured why not fuck it up even more? I’d lost the only people who’d ever really cared for me-the Carltons. I watched Mom use daily for years. I was old enough now to do it too. So, after I had to leave the private school, I never cared about my grades anymore. I figured I had no future. I started skipping school and snorting coke.”

  “What did Debra do?”

  I laughed.

  “Not a fucking thing. She was so glad I was out of her hair. She was so doped up she didn’t realize I stole money from her all the time. I used every spare dime I had to buy dope. Soon I moved up to harder shit.”

  Ash shook his head.

  “My God, Ayden, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Let me talk. I’ve waited for years to tell someone all this.”

  1998

  Life on the streets was as hard as you’d imagine. Finding ways to score drugs wasn’t too hard as long as you were ready, willing, and able to break the law which, of course, I was.

  Finding fellow drug addicts to crash with was never an issue either. As soon as I hit the streets, I quickly found a place to live.

  The place was dilapidated on the outside. The shutters were falling off and the front door had a huge hole punched in it. Several of the windows were shattered and the people living inside had tried to patch them unsuccessfully with cardboard.

  Inside, the air of decay permeated the house. Some girls living there had tried to put up some decorations-a few pictures hung haphazardly on the wall. At one time, they may have made the place homier, but now they just looked sad. The house reeked of sweat, smoke, and urine. The few pieces of furniture left were in terrible disrepair. The sofa only had two legs so it sank to the floor on one side. The kitchen table was covered in pizza boxes, paper plates, and bags. Roaches scurried out from the boxes whenever anyone attempted to touch the table. The faucet dripped constantly. There was a refrigerator, but it looked like it hadn’t worked since the 80s.

  The upstairs was no better. There were two bedrooms and a stained mattress in each one. The floors were littered with trash and used syringes.

  Walking through the house, I was beyond disgusted. Still, I was on my own with no place to go. I’d hit the proverbial rock bottom. Every time I fixed I could feel my life slowly draining from me as the heroin filled my veins. Why was I doing this? I’d watched my mother throw away the better part of her life shooting up and here I was doing the exact same thing. Yet, I had nothing going for me or so I thought.

  Shaking my head, I stood up. I felt a draft behind me. My jeans were completely ripped out. The t-shirt I was wearing I’d had on for at least a week. Reaching up, I rubbed my hand over my unshaven face. Slowly, I walked into the bathroom. I turned the faucet on only to have dark brown water gush out. I let it run for a moment until it turned clear. I stuck my hands under t
he cool water and splashed my face.

  Glancing up, I noted my reflection in the cracked mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and my face looked much older than my fifteen years.

  The blood drained from my face.

  It was my mother staring back at me from the mirror.

  In horror, I stepped back hitting my head on the shower rod which was hanging lopsided from the ceiling. The tile floor on the bathroom was cracked and the wallpaper was peeling off the walls. The window in the bathroom was shattered and glass littered the floor.

  Stumbling out of the bathroom, I spied a pretty young blonde with glazed eyes sitting on one of the mattresses. She had a small pink bag in her hand.

  “Do you mind if I sit here?” I gestured to an empty space next to her on the mattress. The room was filled with people in various stages of undress. Most of them were high on something just lying there spaced out.

  “Sure,” she said, watching me as I sat down.

  On closer inspection, she was even prettier. Her eyes were blue-green and almond shaped. Her hair was long and hung straight down her back. Her tits were full pressing against the white tank top she wore. I suspected she couldn’t be older than eighteen.

  “I’ve never seen you here before. Where are you from?” She clutched her bag closer to her.

  “Here. I grew up on Saline Street.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Really? I lived two streets over! Crestline!”

  Smiling, I began to relax a bit. She must’ve gone to my school at one time.

  “How old are you?” I asked staring at the bag she held in a death grip. She either had money or drugs in there.

  “How old do you think I am?” She laughed.

  Shrugging, I leaned closer to her.

  “Eighteen?”

  She laughed loudly.

  “Nope. Just turned sixteen.”

  She was nearly my age! How did I not know her?

  “Where’d you go to school? You had to have gone to Rosemount, right?”

  She shook her head.

  “I haven’t been to school since…I don’t know when. I’ve been on the run for four years now.”

  I nodded.

  “So, what’s your name? Why are you here?”

  “Ayden. Couldn’t take it at home anymore. My mom’s a fucking junkie, so I decided to—“

  “---follow the family tradition? I get you. My stepdad couldn’t keep his fucking hands off of me. I’m Trish.”

  “Good to meet you.”

  I noticed a tiny gold cross she wore around her neck.

  “Are you a good little girl, Trish?”

  “What?”

  “Your necklace.”

  She touched the cross.

  “It was my grandmother’s. She was the only person who ever loved me. She gave it to me when I had my first Communion.”

  I didn’t know what Communion was, but I didn’t ask. Instead, I shifted my focus to the bag she was clutching.

  She noticed my gaze had fallen to her bag.

  “So, Ayden, I guess you’re here because you want to get high. I got just the thing for you.”

  Eagerly, I leaned forward. It had been hours since I last had anything.

  Unzipping her bag, she pulled out what looked like two 8 balls, but instead of powder it was hard like rocks.

  Ugh. That shit didn’t look very good.

  I felt myself go weak like I was going to faint. She had that much coke on her sitting in this dump? I’m surprised the junkies here hadn’t killed her.

  Instead of pouring some out to snort, she pulled out another small package. Inside it was a glass pipe.

  “Rock?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s cheap and gets you high quick. You’ve never done it before?”

  I shook my head.

  She dropped the rock inside the pipe and flicked on her lighter. As she held the lighter beneath it, she inhaled deeply.

  Blowing out a plume of smoke, she handed me the pipe.

  “Just try it. You’ll love it.”

  I was a bit hesitant. I’d heard how bad that shit fucks you up, but at this point I was so far gone I didn’t care.

  I lit it up and inhaled.

  Instantly, I was transported. The high was ten times stronger than snorting coke. I felt like I was flying.

  We ran the streets together for three years. Trish and I developed a relationship. I guess you could say I fell in love with her over the tedious chore of scoring drugs and getting high. In between those times we actually talked with each other about our dreams of living all the shit behind us and starting a real life.

  But sadly, that wasn’t in the cards for us.

  2001

  Sticky sweat covered my body like honey. I shivered as I tried to pull an old blanket over me. Glancing over at Trish, I saw the sweat dripping off her brow streaming down her face. Her thin t-shirt was soaked. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. Her once beautiful blonde hair hung lankly down her back.

  I held my arms tightly against my stomach. I knew I was going to be sick. Suddenly, I heaved and vomited all over the floor some of it splashing onto Trish.

  She was so out of it she barely noticed. She was in her own hell. She tried lying down on the filthy mattress and sleeping, but she kept thrashing around.

  “I can’t do this anymore!” She screamed. She raced through the apartment throwing things around scouring the place for a just a tiny bit, a crumb of heroin.

  “There isn’t any, Trish.” I choked between vomiting sessions. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I would’ve given anything for a fix.

  Anything.

  Trish grabbed me by the collar.

  “Help me, Ayden. Let’s get something. Coke, anything, I don’t care.”

  “Coke won’t help, Trish.”

  “Don’t you have any money at all, Ayden?”

  I shrugged.

  “That’s not the problem, Trish. Everybody’s dry. I’ve called every dealer I know.”

  “Then call again! Do something, Ayden. I can’t fucking take it anymore.” She cried tearing at her skin.

  The apartment was infested with roaches. Several crawled across my foot, but I didn’t care. I grabbed my phone and called the only guy I could think of-Paulo.

  “Paulo, do you know anybody who’s holding?”

  “Shit, man, I wish.”

  “I mean, I’ve got the cash. I’ve gotta have just a little something. We’re sick here, man, really sick.”

  “The only guy I know who may have a bit is Tico. You know his stuff.”

  I swallowed hard. Tico Blanco was known for cutting his dope with plaster, quinine, or worse. Getting dope from Tico was a gamble. Sometimes it was really pure, sometimes it was cut just right, and other times…..

  “Shit. Tico.” I grumbled to myself.

  Other times it was said his dope killed people.

  “I don’t know, Paulo.”

  “I’d help you, man, but all I have is powder. That’s not really gonna help you. Tico is down around Mason Avenue tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  I hung up. I didn’t know what to do.

  Trish came racing up to me.

  “Tico has some? We’re going!”

  “Wait a minute, Trish, you know his stuff. Guys have died because of how he cuts it or what he cuts it with.”

  She shrugged wiping her nose with her arm.

  “I don’t care, Ayden. I’m going to fucking die if I don’t get something.” Her eyes were blood red. Her nose was running like a faucet. She looked like death already.

  I wasn’t doing too well either. I felt like my stomach was going to explode. It was bubbling inside and I couldn’t see straight. Everything seemed hazy.

  “He’s on Mason Avenue.”

  Trish was already pulling our cash out of the hole in the wall behind the picture.

  “There’s enough here for both of us!”

  Stuffing the cash into my pocket, we hurri
ed out.

  As we walked got out of the car on Mason Avenue, I immediately saw Tico’s gang hanging around outside the corner bar. It was late, so I knew that he probably wouldn’t have much if anything left.

  Three Hispanic guys walked up to us. They were wearing black t-shirts and sagging jeans.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  I nodded.

  “Not much. Just looking for Tico, man.”

  “You Ayden? I seen you around before with that hot chica.” He nodded toward towards Trish.

  “Yep. Listen, man, me and my girl we’re hurting bad. Is Tico around?”

  The guys looked at each other. In the distance, we could hear the wail of police sirens and gunfire.

  “Yeah, he’s upstairs.”

  The short, chubby one stopped us.

  “You guys got money, right?”

  I nodded at Trish to flash them a bit of cash. We always split our money between us that way if one of us got robbed we wouldn’t be broke. We also never let them know how much money we actually had. Dealers were notorious for suddenly upping the price once they knew you had more money.

  We followed the trio into the bar to the back. There was a pair of double doors chained shut. One of them opened it with a key and we walked into a stairwell. The air was full of smoke and reeked of urine. I squeezed Trish’s hand as we walked up the steep stairs to the third floor.

  Throwing open the door to the third floor, we walked down a roach infested hallway to the only apartment there.

  One of the guys knocked three times then twice. The door flew open and there stood an enormous Hispanic guy with a .45 shoved in our faces.

  “Who you got there?”

  The tall thin guy held his hands up.

  “It’s my boy, Ayden. He’s cool. He’s got cash. They’re looking for Tico.”

  He stepped aside and jerked his head towards the bedroom.

  The tall thin guy led us to the bedroom.

  “He’s not in the best mood tonight. Just tell him what you want and get out.”

  I walked in and stood in front of him. He had black hair that fell forward in his face. His skin was quite dark as he was from Mexico. He spoke with a heavy accent.

  “So, white boy, what you lookin for?” He asked without even glancing up.

  “Whatever you got.”

  He looked up and growled at me.