11. Chapter 11
eleven
Boston
I’m in a bad mood. Not a total shocker, considering my body and face still feel like I decided to run face-first into a wall. I look like it, too.
All day, people stared and whispered. Even my teachers asked careful questions after class.
I just told them the same bullshit I told my friends, which isn’t technically a lie.
Just a half-truth. I left out the part where it happened at home and involved my mom’s boyfriend, who might also be her pimp.
And then there’s Skye.
Despite what she told me Friday night, she and Archer are obviously a thing. Like, officially. Online, too. I checked.
All day, I heard about it. Girls whispering, guys nodding in approval. Then, at lunch, I saw them holding hands. Kissing. Smiling.
Not the best day.
Still, what takes the fucking cake is what I come home to after picking up Cassie and Bronx.
When we walk in, Eddie’s planted on the couch, shoveling leftover spaghetti into his mouth—the last of the food my mom made yesterday as a peace offering. I’d saved that for Cass and Bronx. It was all we had left besides four slices of bread and half a jar of peanut butter.
I scowl when I spot him.
His shit-eating grin stretches across his face. “Welcome back, Boston. Glad to see you decided to wake up and rejoin the family.” He smirks, noodles hanging from his fork. “You look like shit, though, kid. I can tell you that much.”
My fist twitches, but I suffocate the urge to throw a punch. Last time didn’t go well for me.
“Mom?” I call, helping Bronx and Cassie out of their coats. They immediately rush to our room to play, even though they know to do homework first.
“She’s getting ready for work,” Eddie says, eyes fixed on the TV.
Work?
My mom appears from the hallway, wearing clothes that are absolutely not meant for Minnesota winters—short skirt, skimpy top, high-heeled boots. Bright red lips. Her hair’s half-up, and for a second, I almost think she looks good. Except the whole thing’s… too much. It makes my face burn.
Eddie leers at her. “Fuck, yes. You look ripe, baby.”
I swallow the bile rising in my throat. God, I hate him.
“Mom, where are you going?”
“She’s going to work,” Eddie cuts in and stands.
I ignore him. “Mom?”
Eddie steps in close. “You really need to learn your place, Boston.” He takes another step, nostrils flared.
My mom lays a hand on his chest, then looks at me. “It’s just for a few hours, baby, okay?” she says, her voice gentle. “Can you get Bronx and Cass into bed?”
“No, Mom, I work tonight,” I remind her. “Who’s gonna watch them? And what about food? There’s nothing left.”
“What about the leftovers?” she asks, looking to the fridge like it’s transparent.
“Your boyfriend ate them,” I grit out.
Eddie shrugs, licking sauce off his fingers, clearly unconcerned.
“Okay, uhh, well, maybe you could call out? Just today? Or see if Miss Janine can watch them?” she says, while Eddie slips into his jacket. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. I promise.”
She’s ushered through the door by Eddie. He turns back to me. “You’d do well keeping your fucking mouth shut, Boston.”
He slams the door behind them.
I stand in the silence, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles ache. I can hear Bronx and Cassie laughing in the bedroom, completely unaware that there’s no dinner and their mom just walked out looking like bait.
Thank the heavens for Miss Janine and her willingness to watch my siblings in a pinch.
There’s no way I can miss work today, not if I want to keep this job. Sure, it’s nothing fancy, but the hours are flexible, the work is easy, and I make enough for groceries and second-hand clothes for Cassie, Bronx, and me.
Luckily, it’s a slow evening, giving me a chance to get some of my book report done in between wiping down equipment and restocking towels. It’s not due till next Friday, but I’ve learned not to leave stuff like this until the last minute, because things at home aren’t always predictable.
At nine sharp, my shift ends. I pack up, ride the bus, and stop by Miss Janine’s to get my siblings.
By the time I reach our building, Bronx is asleep in my arms, all soft breaths and twitchy fingers. Cassie trots beside me, taking three steps for every one of mine.
“How was your evening?” I ask as we head up the walkway.
“Boring,” Cassie says. “I colored and Bronx watched cartoons.”
I chuckle. “Sounds pretty ideal, actually.”
“What does ideal mean?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Umm, it means, like, perfect,” I say, adjusting Bronx in my arms. Even though he’s a small dude, forty pounds of dead weight is still awkward to carry.
“Was your afternoon ideal?” she asks, her breath foggy against the frosty air.
I smile. “Yeah. Sure.”
We reach our stairs and I motion for her to go ahead. “Did you eat at Miss Janine’s?”
“We had SpaghettiOs,” she beams. “With the little baby hot dogs.”
“And? Ideal or no?”
Cassie gives me a thumbs-up. “Very much ideal.”
I reach past her to unlock the door, nudging her gently inside. I almost plow straight into her when she stops short.
Immediately I know why she froze.
Eddie’s leaning against the hallway doorframe. Four guys—the same four horsemen of the apocalypse from Friday night—are stationed throughout the living room. One on the couch, one by the kitchen, one just inside the door, one near Eddie.
I look around for my mom and spot her in the kitchen. Her eyes are swollen and red, her cheek flushed like someone slapped her—hard.
I grab Cassie’s shoulder, drawing her back to me.
The guy closest to me swings the door shut behind me, locking it in place while Eddie pushes off the wall, grinning like he owns the place.
“Susie, put your kids to bed,” he says, eyes pinned to me.
I hate how my mom obeys him. She hurries over, lifts Bronx from my arms, then steers Cassie out of the living room. My eyes follow them as they disappear down the hallway.
I’m almost dizzy with the sudden spike in adrenaline.
Every cell in my body knows that whatever’s about to happen, it’s going to be bad.
Eddie steps forward, hand outstretched. “Your phone, Boston.”
I don’t move.
“I want your fucking phone,” he repeats, his voice militant.
“Why?” I ask, trying like hell to keep my voice steady.
He doesn’t answer. Just flicks his chin. Instantly, two of his roided-out henchmen grab my arms, pinning me between them. Same move as last time. I try to wrench free, but it’s pointless. They only hold on tighter.
Eddie steps in close, a sneer on his lips. He’s so much shorter than me that he has to tilt his head up to look into my eyes, but it doesn’t ease the panic lacing up my spine.
I feel Eddie’s breath on me as he invades my space, his face only a few inches from mine. I turn my head away from him, eager to break eye contact. He reaches into my back pocket and pulls out my phone.
“I’m gonna make this real simple,” he says, walking to the kitchen. “You’re a giant pain in my ass, Boston.”
He retrieves a cutting board from the cupboard and places it on the counter. “And I only tolerate that shit for so long before it gets handled. Do you understand me boy?”
He glances at me with arctic eyes. “I thought you’d learned your lesson after last week, but you obviously didn’t get the damn hint,” he tsks. “It’s a good thing I have a soft spot for your slut of a mother. Otherwise, you’d already be dead.”
He opens drawers. Searching.
My lungs feel tight, my breath coming too fast, too shallow.
“Your mommy begged me not to hurt you again, sweet Boston. My boys would’ve made quick work of things, but, well, we all know the power of good pussy.” Eddie shrugs. “Or maybe I’m feeling charitable today.”
Delight flashes across his face when he finds what he’s looking for.
He lifts it slowly.
A metal meat tenderizer.
He flicks his chin and I’m dragged into the kitchen. My pulse kicks into overdrive. I dig in my heels, trying to twist out of their hold, but it’s futile.
“You’re going to leave,” Eddie says, turning the meat tenderizer in his hand, studying it like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Tonight.”
My heart hammers so hard against my ribs, I wouldn’t be surprised if it burst through my chest wall Alien-style.
“And you’re not coming back. Ever. You’re not gonna call the cops. You’re not calling anyone. You’re gonna”—he motions his fingers like ashes scattering—“disappear.”
He places my phone on the cutting board, then swings the meat tenderizer and brings it down.
Crack.
The screen shatters, the casing explodes.
He does it again. And again.
Until there’s nothing left but shards of glass, pieces of plastic, twisted wires, and parts I can’t even name.
Eddie turns to me, the meat tenderizer still firmly in his hand.
“And if you don’t, if you cause me any kind of trouble—if I even think you’re causing me trouble—I’m going to find you, Boston.
And then I’ll make you watch as I kill first your momma, then your little sister, and lastly your little brother.
And then I’ll kill you. Slowly. Do you understand me, Boston? ”
I nod, breath ragged, my thoughts fragmented.
I know he’s not bluffing.
“Okay, good.” He pats my cheek with mock affection. “And just to show you I’m serious—”
Before I know what’s happening, Thing One to my left yanks my arm forward and slams my hand down on the cutting board. I barely register Eddie swinging the meat tenderizer before—
Crack.
White-hot pain detonates up my arm as the meat tenderizer smashes into my hand. I cry out, the edges of my vision going black.
Then again.
Crack.
My legs buckle, but I don’t fall—not with Eddie’s goons holding me upright. I’m shaking, breath trapped in my throat. My hand feels like nothing but shattered bone wrapped in skin.
Eddie crouches in front of me, tilting my chin up until our eyes meet. “You wouldn’t want me hurting Bronx or Cassie like this, right?”
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“That’s what I thought. We got a deal then, yeah?”
I nod.
They let go and I hit the ground, cradling my mangled hand to my chest.
“You have exactly sixty seconds to catch your breath, get to your feet, and get the fuck out of this place, Boston,” Eddie says cooly. “One. Two. Three…”
I suck in a breath—then another—and force my body upright. My legs don’t feel like my own, but at least they move, somehow carrying me out of the kitchen.
I catch a glimpse of my mom in the hallway, hands clamped to her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Our eyes lock. Just for a moment.
Then I open the door and step into the cold darkness, praying it’s enough to keep them safe.