Chapter 2 Jami
Two
Jami
Standing at the front door to the trailer I left behind so many years ago, anger fills me. My palms sweat, and my body shakes as adrenaline surges through me.
The craving is fierce. The monster inside me claws, reminding me how a needle, a line, a pill, one solid inhale could numb this storm in seconds.
At this moment anything that could give me courage and an escape all at the same time would work.
Drugs were always my shield, my blanket, my silence.
But they’re out of my system now, burned out through sweat and tears and trembling nights.
And I don’t want to look back.
Drugs distort perception. The high never lasts and when reality crashes around me, I’m left more empty than I was before. Rock bottom is an illusion because the mind always says just one more will do.
I’m here so I can move on with my life.
I’m here to have closure from the past because everything that started here, ends here tonight.
I want to live. I want to breathe. I want to feel. I want to experience every damn thing—good and bad—that I’ve tried to escape from in every single high. I want it all, and I want it free and clear of this motherfucker.
The trailer looms in front of me, rust bleeding down the aluminum siding, weeds crawling up the steps.
The windows are clouded with grime. It smells like stale beer and mold even from outside, and just standing here drags me back—nights of hiding in the closet, covering my ears, waiting for him to pass out.
I feel Jenni’s eyes on me as I raise my hand and knock on the old door. Why I give him this courtesy, I don’t know.
A roar from inside: “Go the fuck away!”
My blood turns to ice.
The fear crawls up my spine, battling my anger. I have to do this. No matter what comes next, I have to face him. I have to face my past in order to ever have a future.
I swallow and twist the door handle. Dumbass has it unlocked. Then again, I don’t remember a time the door was ever locked. Maybe he thought no one would dare come in uninvited.
The door creaks as I push it open, and the smell slams into me—liquor, sweat, old smoke, and something rotten I can’t name. My lungs seize, but I force myself to step inside. Jenni follows, her hand brushing mine like she’s ready to catch me if I break.
There he is.
The man who made my life hell from the very beginning.
Ezra Rivera sits slouched in his worn-out recliner, the same ugly brown one from when we were kids. His hair is thinner now, patchy. His jeans are stained, shirt wrinkled. His eyes are sunk into his face, skin an odd shade of yellow. He looks like a ruin of a man. A waste of air.
And yet this ruined excuse for a man ruled me for too long.
Today, I’m here to take my life back.
“Well, look who the cat drug in,” he mutters, lifting a bottle of liquor to his lips and chugging.
“Dad,” I start, voice tight. “I need to face you.”
“Don’t call me that,” he spits, venom spraying the word. “Reckon it’s time to tell you. Since the bitch is dead now anyway. Jameson, you aren’t mine. So don’t call me Dad.”
His eyes are stone cold as he shatters my world with a few words. Dead? My mother?
His last sentence doesn’t even register at first. All I hear is that she’s gone.
“What?” The word cracks out of me.
“Your momma, that you loved so much. Yeah, she was a whore. She’s dead now. Buried her at that cemetery at the corner. Church folks gave her a plot since she found Jesus. I would’ve just cremated her and dumped the ashes in the trash since that’s what she was. Trash.”
I lose all composure. Everything ceases to exist. I lunge. My hands wrap around his throat, rage exploding out of me.
“The only trash here is you!” I scream, my voice ripping raw. “You raped me over and over again. My whole life is fucked because of you. My mother wasn’t trash—you are!”
The truth detonates out of me in front of my sister. I never wanted her to know, never wanted those words to stain her ears. But now it’s out, and all I care about is squeezing the life out of him. I want to watch the very life leave his body.
“Jami, stop!” Jenni cries, tugging at me.
Her voice breaks my focus just long enough for him to shove me off. I stumble back, crashing into the wall.
“That’s my girl,” Ezra rasps, rubbing his neck. His bloodshot eyes fix on Jenni. “Hennessey, my daughter. My pride and joy. You made your Papa proud joining the Navy.”
My stomach flips. Oh my God. He named us both after liquor. Jameson. Hennessey. He thought it was clever. Our mother gave in, maybe because it was easier than fighting him. Yes, she named my sister Jennessey but there isn’t a day of her life, he hasn’t called her Hennessey.
“You are not my father!” Jenni yells. “I don’t give a fuck what DNA says. You ruled this house with an iron fist. You broke me as a little girl. And knowing what you did to my sister—you’re a sick motherfucker.”
He laughs, low and cruel, and bile rises in my throat.
“What the fuck are you two gonna do about it? You can’t prove shit.”
Jenni’s tears spill down her cheeks. My voice shakes, but I force the words out.
“The first time… I was thirteen. I had just started my period. Mom was passed out on her meds. Jenni was at work. I tried to wake Mom to tell her. Instead, you found me. I told you I needed pads. And you said you knew how to teach me about a woman’s body.”
I gag, bile stinging my throat, but I don’t stop.
“Tight little cunt. Got you first, unlike your whore of a mother,” he mutters back. I’m so lost in my pain, his words don’t register at first.
Jenni lunges this time, fury snapping her like a whip. She crashes into him, clawing at his throat.
I came here for closure. But a man like him will never give me that. He will never set me free. I have to find it for myself.
He fumbles into the side of the recliner, hand closing on something. My heart seizes.
“Gun!” I scream.
Jenni jerks back, trying to shield me, but I won’t have it. I shove forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with her.
He studies us with a gleam in his eye, the pistol steady in his hand. As a child, he seemed monstrous. Now, he’s just a pathetic drunk holding a gun.
“So big, bad Ezra’s gonna shoot us?” I taunt, voice shaking but loud. I know I’m playing with fire. But I’ve played with fire every time I’ve shot poison into my veins. Every drug I ingested should have been my last. Death didn’t take me then, I’ll damn sure face it now sober.
“Not until I have that pussy one more time,” he grumbles.
The rage is white-hot. “Shoot me now. I’ll die before you touch me ever again.”
I step closer. My voice rises, steady, strong.
“You see, Ezra, father or not, I’ve learned my worth. And that shit doesn’t come from you. I chased escapes for years, but in the end, the power to forget is mine. My body isn’t tainted by you anymore. My mind is clear. So do your worst. I’ll still be standing strong.”
Jenni spits at his feet. “If I had known what you did to her, I’d have told someone. You’re filth. You’re nothing but shit on my shoe.”
He smirks, gun unwavering.
I square my shoulders. “You owe me an explanation. Tell me why. Why did you do it? I thought you loved me, even though you hurt me. I thought you cared.”
His grin is cruel. “You weren’t mine. You were a reminder of the man she fucked. I wanted you to hurt the way I hurt when she stepped out. In your pain, I found glory. Just like I find it in the bottom of a bottle.”
Outside, the faint rumble of motorcycles builds, engines growling like thunder. But I barely register it.
“You failed as a man,” I spit. “You failed as a husband, as a father. I’m glad I remind you of him. I’m glad I can stand in your face and make you choke on your failure.”
The door bursts open. Rhett storms in, gun raised, eyes blazing.
But my focus never wavers. My soul has waited for this moment.
“She stepped out because you were shit, Ezra!” I roar. A shot cracks.
Pain explodes through me, fire tearing through my chest. I collapse into Jenni’s arms. Another shot echoes, and Ezra crumples to the floor.
“No!” Jenni sobs, clutching me, tears streaming down her face.
My vision blurs, but I lock eyes with her. She has to know. If this is the end, she has to know.
“I have the power back, Jenni,” I whisper, as the searing pain becomes almost too much to bear. “He can’t hurt me anymore.”
The pain swallows me whole, but I feel light. He doesn’t win. The drugs don’t win.
I am the master of my destiny.
Even if it ends here, I did it my way.
And this is the most empowering moment of my life. Even if it’s my very last.