Chapter 48
Lily
" W hat kind of pussy spell do you have those bitches under?" My father chuckled, the stink of his cigarette and alcohol breath wafting through the air.
Already, I'm a kid again. When people say that, it usually comes with feelings of being young, light, free, imaginative, having much less 'adult shit' to worry about. That's not the case with me. My life is much better now. It's taken me this long to feel young, light, free, and imaginative. This past month opened me up to a new level of freedom that didn't exist for me before. Being a kid again means carrying around an unbearable suffocating weight on my shoulders, being filled with hate, resentment, and fear. Needing to escape. Being helpless. Drowning in too much adult shit.
"What the fuck are you looking at? I'm starving. Go make me something to eat," he grunted, soiling the new sofa with his filthy swamp ass.
Taking a deep breath past the boulder in my chest and inhaling the odor of the past, I crossed my arms across my chest. "No."
He shook his head and pointed his cigarette toward me. "You know, I've been giving you enough chances." He chuckled; it's a humorless grating sound. "But if you keep pushing..."
"You'll what?" I tossed my chin up toward him. "Hit me? Go ahead. I dare you." I stepped to him with a sense of power and confidence made possible by the knowledge that I'm protected. He balled his fists up and jumped up from the chair, anger blazing in his eyes, making the veins in his face, neck, and floppy arms stand up. My confidence waned when his nose almost touched mine, and his breath alone threatened to knock me out. I hoped he couldn't feel the way my body was shaking as I tried to maintain the power slipping from my grip.
Surprised his hand wasn't already on me, choking the air out of my lungs or throwing me across the room, I continued, "You heard them. Their respect for my wishes may be keeping them away for now, but that restraint will go out the window the minute something goes wrong and as cocky as you are, I doubt you can take on four grown men. After all, your strength is only reserved for women, isn't it?"
His breath was hot on my face as he raised both hands, bringing them close to my head. I stopped breathing as his palms brushed up against the strands of my hair. His eyes were wild, and his pulse was loud in my ear; the veins in his wrist puffed up like tiny fucking tree branches or something. He yelled in my face, blasting me with his spit, before dropping his hands to his side and backing away, almost stumbling from the force of rage rocking his body. My breath rushed to the surface, and my heart started beating again. Fuck, the crippling fear I'd forgotten about rushed back, and I re-experienced every moment I thought Marco would kill me, when I thought my father would kill my mother. I'm frozen, unable to use my lips to shout for help.
My stomach turned over a million times, but I hoped to hell I'm retaining my composure, and he couldn't smell the fear dripping off my body.
"Yeah, well, those little bitch boys won't be there to protect you all the time, will they? We'll see what happens when it's just you and me," he said.
Clearing my throat out of fear that my voice would betray my portrayal of courage if I tried to speak, I straightened my shoulders. "They won't leave me alone with you around. So I suggest you leave unless you want to live with all of us. And before you mention calling the cops again, may I remind you that you broke things off with my mother and moved out to live with another woman five years ago? You have no conjugal rights to this house." I found the dining room chair I left in the center of the room earlier and took a seat to tame my wobbling legs.
He laughed and held his hands up, waving them around in mock fear. "Nice try." He flopped down on the sofa he had no place being in, imprinting memories of him on it just like the last one. I glared at him. "May I remind you..." he mimicked me.
"That Petal and I didn't get divorced?"
Petal's my mother's name. Her family had a thing for flower names for the girls, and they passed the tradition down to me. My father always thought it was stupid. I'm surprised she managed to convince him to let me keep the name in the first place. I imagine he said something ignorant like, 'I don't care what you call the bitch. As long as she can cook and clean when she grows up.'
"What do you mean you didn't get divorced?" I balked.
"It means that legally, I'm still tied to that crackhead. So legally, I still own half this joint." He smiled, and my nostrils flared.
"Legally, you don't own shit. You seem to forget that this was my mother's family house, willed to her. You were only ALLOWED to live here because you were married to her. No matter what you say, if it comes down to it, I'm sure I'll be able to find a judge to grant my mother a divorce, since she can no longer speak on her behalf, and I'll have to do all the talking for her. Domestic violence, cheating, moving out, and cohabitating with a common law wife, whatever it takes."
This didn't scare him one bit. In fact, the breathing bag of skin laughed, and I eyed the table lamp with a burning desire to bash his head in with it. I've always had my own anger issues. Unfortunately, his blood runs in my veins, but I decided a long time ago that I don't want to be anything like him, so I fight like hell with myself whenever anger gets the best of me.
"Empty threats." He put out the butt of the cigarette on the sofa, and I turned my eyes away before I lost all self-control. "What are you going to do? Take me to court? With what money? Your whore dollars?" He cackled.
"Oh, I could do it." I locked eyes with him, hoping the guys would be willing to help, then hating him for driving me to that desperation to even consider asking them for money.
"Yeah, right. You don't scare me, little girl. But give it your best shot; I'll tell them you're lying," he said.
"And the medical records, they're lying too?" I fired back.
"Your mother's an addict. Anybody could've beaten her up: her dealer, some random stranger." He shrugged. "You've got nothing. You ain't getting me out. Besides, I could probably even claim psychological damage from your mother's lifestyle, claim she refused to sign the papers when I requested a divorce, and I only managed to get out when she went crazy and couldn't speak and shit to cover my ass over the cheating thing. Hell, I may even get myself a big fat payday on top of half of everything." He grinned. "I dare you to take me to court."
He's pure evil. I shut my eyes, hissing to myself over a missed opportunity to record his shit if only I had my cell phone on hand. Fuck, he makes a convincing liar too. I've seen him brainwash my neighbors into siding with him and turning some of them against my mother with his bullshit. My blood boiled as I considered breaking my stance on violence and letting the guys in to tear him apart.