The death I couldn't wait for

Festered in the rearview mirror of a crumbled interior, I fumble my way out of a coiled vehicle. Ma sprawled across tattered faux leather. Pa mangled in rusted iron. My sister, tucked between three folds of metal, coughs, seizes, gags, chokes, wails, screams.

The echo courses through my brittle veins like heated ice cream.

I stare, cackle, spit. She begs forgiveness.

Sirens blare, gather. An eternity alone. The endless glare of snow. The sun forgotten behind a desolate horizon. An officer, with nothing but chest and toes, steps out of his cruiser.

"Mighty fine blizzard we're havin, ain't it?"He mumbles. I nod, shiver."Shame bout that F-150... parents too, no doubt. But ain't no stoppin the dead from dying. That's a given."

He smiles. I shrug.

"What about..." I begin.

"Her?" he gestures, nodding to my sister, strapped to a gurney, lifted and carried off.

I bob my head up and down, up and down, again and again, memory just syrup, dripping down and down and far and far away. Praying that if I push my eyes to the ground maybe then the thought, the thoughts, the memories, will seep out of me, gone forever and ever and always.

"Well, fars I can tell, she's gonna be pretty alright probably. Need some serious hospitaling. Some of that psyco therapy nonsense also. Hell, with a death like that, be surprised if she'd ever be better."

That fucking smile. Those rotting teeth. That bleached hair. That jaundice skin.

"And me?"

"Well I spose that's a bit of a different matter. You got familiars? Family? Friends? Somewhere you can stay while they go and try and fix her up?"

I shake my head. My toes are numb. Shoes to be worn in a home, not in the snow.

"Shame. That'd be mighty helpful right about now. Don't ya think?"

"Spose so."

How old you be, anyhow?"

"Sixteen, almost."

"Well heres how it done be, least for the time being, that is. We can put you in one of those whatyamacallits. The places for the folks without folks. Frosty something. Those places they tend to keep them orphans, you know, seeing that you be one of em like too. Or, if your up to it, we fib a bit here and there, tell a lie or two, that kind of thing. Something anout the age of nineteen. 18 being all too simple and the like. Just a month or two over. Nuff time to give some sense of believin and the like. Since ain't nobody gonna put you a day over 20 and that pushin too."

"Pushing what"

"What can and can't be and the like"

"Who's to say what can't be could be someday"

"Someday, maybe sure, but that day ain't no today"

"Why?"

"I ain't no father time"

"Not that. This."

"What?"

"Doing all this. For me. What for?"

Cackling.

"Cus if you don't, there ain't much of a chance you'll make it through the night." His hand heavy on a holster, unbuttoned and ready.

Faster on the draw than thought. Figures as much.

"Well you couldn't much even if you could. With that being my drivers license and all and not a whole lot of time to tell much of a fib."

"Now don't you none go worrying bout any of all that Ms. Lady. I got it all taken care of, nice and simple like. Old buddy thats due for some time will be sure to make things work out the way they done should."

Skin wrinkles as his reaches for mine, arms like fur, callused hand: caught in the threads of my shirt.

I wince. He doesn't notice. Or care. Or both.

"I don't mean to take no advantage Ms. That is to say, if it ain't consensual, I ain't want no buggery."

I can't. I won't. Not for him. Not for no one.

With those haggard features. Those swollen eyes and chipped fingers. Those cauliflower ears or fleeing hair follicles. That belly pregnant with desire and a nose hooked like an anvil.

Not for him. Not for no one.

"Yes sir is what you be looking for."

His gun cocked, loaded, aimed, at his foot, my foot, ankle, knee, rising, rising. The fog of my breath masking his cheshire grin, his nicotine stained teeth.

I open my mouth, prepared to squeal, scream, beg, plead. No one else around. Nothing but an empty field and an abandoned street and the echo of a long lost siren.

"Yes sir."

The knowing smile of someone who will do it again. "What's that? I can't good none hear ya."

My throat tightens, hands clench, breath hot, despite the cold. "Yes sir"

"Thats a girlie. Now you go and get in that there car there." He points to his cruiser, letters peeling, siren cracked, tires flat, doors welded on with a lackluster indifference.

I fumble towards the car, hesitate at a door, hand clutching the handle.

"Yesm, up front if you please. And you just get yourself good and comfy. I'll be with ya shortly. Homes not more than a minute or so."

I close my eyes, steady my breath. "Home?"

"Sorry. Ain't mean no misspeaking. All I mean to say is, my home, if you willing."

I nod, fumble, push, pull, sit, sniffle, shiver.

The man, the pig, the officer, cracks a grin, knocks upon frosted glass, points, gestures. I shake my head. He sighs, lumbers around the car, opens the door. The suffocating smell of forgotten deodorant.

The cold makes me shiver.

"Spose you probably be wonderin bout her bout now, huh?"

I shake my head, swallow, stare at the mashed up metal, the totaled vehicle. How could something so big be so small?

"Well, truth is. She ain't much for looks anyhow, so why would ya?"

I nod.

"Anyways, them doctors say she's gonna be just a-okay here shortly. How old's she? Older, maybe?"

I shake my head.

"Younger, huh. Not much though, no?"

I shake my head.

"Well lets just get you good and on home now, then, least for the time being. Say we go see her in the morning. How does that sound? Good?"

No. Yea, thats a great idea, tell the man with a gun and a tazer and the law that he can just go shove it wherever. I'm not some brainiac genius, but I'm not stupid either. Momma raised us right, or tried to anyways. I could almost smell the burned pasta, the tarred toast, the screech of the smoke detector alerting the family that dinner was ready.

"Great." He smiles, revs the engine. The glee in his eyes certainly wasn't from that warm fuzzy feeling you get from volunteering .

One day at a time. One minute at a time. Just do this, then that. Once she's better, everything will be better.

Boxes everywhere. Dirt dusting the only window. A light flickers, exposing all three rooms at once. One for living. One for sleeping. One for eating.

"What about me?" I ask, searching the room, slowly suffocating from what I can only hope is a gas leak.

"What about you?" he chuckles, talons on my shoulder. Dark, black, brown, red. Whats that under his nails?

"Where am I gonna..."

"Sleep?"

I nod, studying the frayed chair that is the rooms only furniture, the lawn chairs that surround the fold out kitchen table, the bed, the bed, the hospital corners.

"The bed. Where else?"

"And you?"

He chuckles, guffaws, stumbles off into the kitchen. I hesitate, feet swollen, aching.

I sigh, follow.

"What are you..."

"Doing?" he mumbles, shuffling through a dirt-drenched kitchen, searching through one drawer and then another and another. I glare.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" he pleads, eyes scrunched so far into his skull that skin overlaps skin like layers of fat.

"That. That thing you keep doing. As if you have any idea what I'm thinking."

"Did I say that I did?" he asks, turning towards me, opening his eyes. Blue, like my sisters. More of a river than an ocean, but similar. Which means he and I, worse, him and her, have some sort of genetic resemblance.

"Well no, not exactly." I hesitate, bite my lip, draw blood. Wet, salty, sweet, dripping down my chin, staining soiled carpet

"It's just...you just keep doing that."

"Doing what?" He sighs, exasperated, pressing his finger to the bridge of his nose.

"That thing you keep doing. The pretending to have any goddamn idea what I'm thinking"

He grimaces, snickers. "If you don't like it, you're more than welcome to get to it."

I gawk. "Get to what?"

He shrugs. "Whatever it is that you do." And without another word, he goes back to searching the room.

"What are you..."

"Looking for?"

"Goddamn't! Will you just stop it! Stop it! Okay! Just stop it. I'll stay in your house cus its already past midnight and I won't say anything about your creepy little fetish. But after tonight, I'm gone, got it. This is it. I'll sleep on the couch and in the morning I'm out of here." Sweat stings my eyes as I try not to kill him. God, just imagine. Is there a sound that tastes so sweet?

Again he sighs.

"Look, if you think this is that you're hardly mistaken. A tit for tat. Ain't that what they say? Rent ain't free. Not around these parts. I work for what I got, and I spect you do just the same." His look would make Mr. Freeze shiver, the predator cry, the prey rejoice.

"I don't need this! You! Any of it!"

He pounces, grabs, grips, drags, his breath toxic with menthol and nicotine. "Then don't. Get to it. See if they can catch ya before I do."

I throw my knee into his stomach. He tumbles, rolls, moans. I spit, kick. He grabs my foot, drags me down.

We roll across the floor. First one on top, then the other. He gains the advantage, straddles, punches. Again. Again. Again. Blood splatters. Darkness rises. I struggle. I strain. I reach. I grab.

A chair in my hand. I crash into him. A loud crack. The chair snaps. He falls with a thud on top of me.

I wiggle out from under him, push him aside. I walk towards the door, stop. I turn back around, search the kitchen, withdraw a box of matches.

I stare at the bloated demon, poke, prod. No movement. No sign of breathing. Nothing.

A knock at the door. Shit.

"Louie? You in there. I heard some sort of screaming. Wasn't sure if it was just one of those lady friends of yours or what have ya." I swallow vomit. "Now Louie, I ain't one for gossipin, and we all got our vices, but you know my wifeys gotta job in the mornin. She can't be kept up all night by your lady's screamin. So just be kind, yeah? Be little more courteous. Some of us have things to do that ain't just sleepin."

I hold my breath, close my eyes. A long moment passes. Every breath a scream, every second an hour, every bodily function an avalanche.

"Say, Louie, while I have ya. You don't happen to know the wifi, do ya? Mines been fidgety as of late. Won't keep put, if you get what I'm sayin." How long could I do this? How long could I stay frozen? How long before he demanded an answer, a grunt, a groan, something. Worse, how long before he got the super? How long before they got a key? How far could I run before they realized it wasn't just him?

"Now Louie, don't be stingy. I know you been hoggin all the wifi. I ain't askin for much now. Nothin really. All I really forgot was the gosh darn password. And if you can't be civil, if you can't even none do that, well, I suppose I'm gonna have to go get the super."

Say something and I'm as good as dead. Don't, and I'm not any better off.

"Alirghty then."

I toss my hair, leap to the door, hold it close, the door pressing against bones.

"Hey, ummm, you lookin for Louie." He looks me over, consumes me, chuckles. "You girls get younger and younger each and every day now, don't ya?" He steps towards me, I pull the door closer, a shield between me and the world.

"Louie in there? Or you just makin yourself comfortable?" He looks me over, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. "He just went out...beer, you know."

He chuckles. "Ah. Thats the game you been playin"

II smile politely.

"He provides the beer and you provide the...well..alrighty then. Mind if I stick around? Just till he gets back? Got business to discuss. You women folk wouldn't know much bout it."

"No! Yes! I do, I mean. Mind, that is. I'm supposed to surprise him, with, you know..." I try to do that thing people do, with their eyes and their mouths and their tongues. The way they say everything and nothing. The way everyone knows except those that don't and even those that don't still do, sort of.

He snickers. "I gotya. Don't mean to none intrude. You just tell him, when it's done and over, you get him on over, I really need that password now."

"Yea. Sure. Of course. Whatever you say. I'll do just that. As soon as I get to it." I push the door closed, stop, his foot in the way.

"I mean it, lady. Don't be none takin it too lightly. One hour, tops, then I'm callin the manager."

"One hour. Sure. Got it." I push the door harder. He smiles, chuckles.

"Say, while you're waiting, why don't you and I..." his eyes do that thing mine never could. His lips part, saliva oozing. His breath is tinged with jim beam and wild turkey. A smell so thick bullets couldn't cut through it.

His hand, wet, cold, slimy, crawls up my arm, to my shirt, under my shirt. Closer. Closer. Closer.

I crush his foot with my own. He howls, jumps. I slam the door shut.

"Bitch!" He kicks the door hard, grunts, groans, gives in, up, stomps off.

I look past the curtain, through the window. The man limps down the stairs, across the parking lot, and slams on a door. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I sprint through the hovel. The living room, the kitchen, the bedroom, the nook, the cranny, the closet, another, antoher. Nothing. No doors. No windows. No nothing. Escape is impossible, apparently.

The rattle of the door. A battering ram. Screaming. Yelling. Howling. Keys jangle. I reach for the one door left unopened, leap in, and slam the door shut behind me.

I hear the creak of hinges turning. The front door must be open. Mumbling. Grumbling. Heavy breathing. But then, silence. They found him. I look all around me. A shabby bathroom.

A window. Push. Pull. Jammed. Stuck. Footsteps gather, approach. Closer. Closer. Closer.

The window flies open. There is a god. I should thank him later. But first I should probably kill him. Two inches. Thats it. A rat couldn't fit through it.

The door flutters. Hinges creak.

A voice "Now I know you're in there girl, no use in fighting. Me and my friend here just wanna talk nicely. Ain't no need to get scared nor nothin. Just come on out now, we can have a good talk shortly."

I clench the mildewed curtain swaying next to me, pull, rip. Long, narrow pieces. I wrap them around my knuckles as the man pleads, begs. Pathetic, honestly.

"Now this is your last warning." he grunts. "I ain't none asking again. You come on out now before the cops good and get here or I'm gonna done tell em you locked, loaded, and dangerous. Now I ain't no scientest or nuffin but I tell you what, you get a buck shot like that goin through a door like this and I imagine there won't be much left of that womanly figure you been hidin."

I count. One, two, three. I smash my hand through the window, wince. Glass shatters. Voices anger. The door bulges, bursting at the seams.

Jutted teeth too small to clear. I grit my own, grab, pull myself through, blood like breadcrumbs, thick and molding.

Closer. Closer. Almost free. Grabbed, gripped, dragged, pulled. Nails dig into skin.

I bite my tongue. I grind my teeth. I clench the metal fire escape as hard as I can.

One hand becomes two. Two becomes four. I close my eyes, curse every god. This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. This is the worst idea.

I let go.

The three of us fall to the floor, back in the bathroom. The man from before, and another with a beard. The two groan, old men not used to activity. Before they can stand I'm up, out, past the bedroom and through the kitchen. By the time either can stand out I'm out the door, sprinting across concrete .

Despite the yelling, despite the cursing, despite the downright screaming, not a single voice has answered the call. All thirty apartments, maybe twenty, not vacant, but might as well be. The kind of people that don't ever get in anyones business. All the better. Less witnesses.

I sprint down the steps and to a car. Then another. Another. Another. Locked. Locked. Locked. Not a good start.

I sprint to the highway, the men hobbling behind me, still struggling down the stairs with their frail old bodies.

A car. A horn. I stand in between. Hoping they stop. Not caring if they don't.

They do.

A middle-aged woman, a mother, probably, leaps out of the driver's seat enraged and tired. "Sorry to bother you miss, but those men are trying to kill me." I can't help but snicker. Luckily she can't really see me.

"Oh dear! Oh dear! How awful! How terrible! Did you notify the authorities?"

"No answer! Can you believe it? Guess we all know where our tax dollars are really going!" I really don't have time for this. Not to mention, that call would go directly to the dead man lying in the kitchen. Well maybe not dead, maybe worse. Maybe alive and pissed off and ready to spill a whole lot more than I did. So yea, maybe that's not exactly the best idea.

"Well what can I do? How can I help?" her concern is almost nauseating.

"How bout getting out of here? You know how to drive, don't ya? I like to gab as much as the next girl, but, well, they're getting pretty close now."

"Oh yes! Of course. Get in dear. Hurry!" The woman hops back into the driver's seat as I lunge for the passenger door. Locked. Awesome.

I slam on the window. The engine roars. The car squeals off, almost taking my hand as a sovienr. So much for the common man.

I'm grabbed by the hand, by the arm, the two men gripping with fingers filled with grime. I struggle. I strain. I throw my whole body this way and that. No use. One I could take. Two, even, maybe, with a window between us. But two grown men, holding a little girl. Shit, I was doomed.

Wait. Oh shit. That's right. I'm me and they're them. "Help! Help! Please! Somebody help!"

No one from the motel. That I figured. But the shop across the street. Maybe not a palace or anything, but at least one decent person has gotta be in there.

"Help! Help! Anybody! Please!" An old man hobbles out of the station. Awesome. Just what I need. Another old geezer.

"You need some help Ms Lady?" No shit.

"Please! Please! They're trying to kill me!"

"That so?"

"Hey gramps, why don't you mind your own damn business." Coming from the guy who tried to get mine, figures.

"Oh, I don't mean no bother. But that girl there look mighty frightened."

"Her? Her?" The landlord practically cackles. "You think she's the innocent one in all this? Well let me tell you something Mr, that ain't never been the case. You ain't gonna none believe it, but she just murdered poor old Frank."

"Never liked the fella, personally." The old man shrugs. A man of my own making.

"Well no, ain't nobody never liked him, much. But he was family wasn't he?"

"Ain't no family to me. And I spose ain't none to her none neither." The old man nods to me, still inexplicably across the street.

"Well you just get on back now to your own damn business, you hear" The landlord's growing bitter. "We got law on our side, and that's just how we spect to handle this."

"Law? Shit. Ain't no pig ever been for you. Now why don't you done just release her and let her on over."

"Whats it to you, gramps?" What's it to you, I wonder, creep. Probably a lot more than a call to the police and that warm fuzzy feeling inside about justice and all that.

"Me? Oh, nothing much. Have been looking for a new cleaning girl for a while now though."

"This look like an interview to you?" The landlord's grip loosens.

"Ain't look like nothin but a couple men trying to take advantage of a troubled situation. Now when it comes to those ladies, the ones that come not never in the day, I don't say nothin. Sure bad for business, but I keep to myself, mostly. But this young girl ain't nowhere near no age of consent, and I know for certain that if you go calling them pigs the first thing they gonna ask you is that age of hers and something tells me ain't everything gonna be on your side. Now alirght, that's fine, you go on to jail. But when they go to find out I be working cross from a pedo and ain't even do nothin bout it, well what do you spect then? That loan I been getting ain't nothin then. Closed down in a week, and that's bein lenient. Sure nuff they gonna take bout everything once you're good and done with her. So just let her go now, will ya? I'll take care of the rest. You handle you and I'll handle her, got it."

Not exactly prince charming, but I'll take what I can get, and that sure is a hell of a lot better than whatever this is. i

"Yea, well, how bout this? You shut your damn trap and we don't blow your place to bits."

A loud, shrieking growl. A truck draws near. I could make a run for it. Real quick. Just jump and go. Just miss the truck, past the old man, and down the field before anyone notices. All it takes is a little courage. Not all that much, considering everything. But suppose you miss? Suppose you're just too slow. Best case scenario, you're road kill, worse, they do whatever it is their gonna do. Shit, not exactly stellar options. Well what the hell else then? Honestly. Just wait for these losers to decide whose slave I'll be next? Yea, no thanks.

Tires squeal. A horn blares. The suffocating stench of gasoline fills the air. I lurch. I jump. I clench.

The truck drives on by, and the men still hold me tight. Shit.

"Now I ain't none asking again. You go let go of that girl now or this done it." The old man holds something silver in his hand. Hard to tell by the winter glint. But whatever it is, it works. The men drop me like a barrel of rocks.

"Alright now Ms. Lady, you get on over here." I hock, I spit, I turn away. The landlord grabs hold of my arm, looks at me hard.

"Spose you spect he plannin on missing. I wouldn't much count on that if I were you missy. That man can shoot a penny on top of a bull in the middle of a goddamn blizzard. I spect if you wanna go on living, you better go on over, just like the rest of us."

I could take my chances. I mean, at that distance, at his age. Can he even see me this far away? I doubt it. But then again. What's another life to him. Imagine at his age jail isn't really a worry. But I guess it's not really him I have to worry about, its that bullet that could rip right through me. Now that, that is a worry.

I sigh, push the man off me, step to the side of the road, look both ways, searching, begging, pleading. Of course there's nothing. Just my luck. I take a step closer. Another. Another. The wind snips at my cheeks. Should've worn gloves. Should've listened to my sister. Should've died like the rest of them.

Theres no way. That thing is definitely loaded, right? Isn't it? Or is it? I mean, who goes around with a loaded weapon. And I sure as hell didn't see him load it. Could be a bluff. Hell, when it comes to those two idiots, anything could be anything. Then again, what if it's not? Well, there's only one way to find out.

I stand three feet in front of the old man, staring at him, him staring at me.

"Well don't just stand there, get in there!" The old man nods to the shop behind him. I show my teeth, growl. He snickers, laughs. I try to run, try to escape, but goddamn't, my feet are staked to the ground.

"Well?" I lift one foot, set it down. Then the other. One step forward. Further. Farther. Faster. Faster. Faster.

I step into the shop, shivering.