3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Maddox
There has been something different about RWA ever since Prescott passed away. It’s like this place isn’t safe anymore, but I can’t explain why; I feel it in my bones. Since yesterday, Jinx has been avoiding us. She even went as far as changing her door code, permanently locking us out.
I don’t know what I did wrong. My mind needs answers, but I can only give it a bottle of Jack. But one bottle turns into two, and that’s when I finally feel numb, and nothing matters, sadly not even Jinx. I want to find an end to her stalker problem, but what can I do? I’m a fuckin’ loser.
I’m torturing myself again by driving back into Grovedale. It’s like I have unfinished business with this moronic town. The pull is still strong, and I need to cut the cord; the only way to do that is to talk to her. My chest tightens the closer the town limits are, and I don’t think I can do this without a drop of liquor in my system. But I know if I drink, shit won’t go my way. She has a way of manipulating me if she smells booze on my breath.
The house is nothing but a shell from when I burnt it down, a reminder that nothing is meant to last forever and, in the end, only your bones will be left behind. Soon, you’ll be nothing, not even a memory, and people will go back to their lives like it was nothing.
Hell, some don’t even wait for you to be dead to forget about you.
I keep driving to the motel she always stays at; she’s like a creature of habit, nothing ever changes. The Blackbird Motel might have been the best in its prime now. It’s barely standing. All the doors are faded gray and the bricks are practically falling off the walls. Honestly, this place really needs to be bulldozed into the ground.
I pull up in front of room 6. This room haunts my dreams to this day. The terror didn’t stay in that house. I would burn this place down if that were possible, and then maybe I would sleep peacefully for once. The thought of my past being swept away almost brings me joy.
The steering wheel bites into my skin the harsher I squeeze. Whatever happens behind that door, I won’t soon forget, and I only hope she’s alone. With a final heavy exhale and a push to the door, I exit the car, leaving my sanctuary and replacing it with purgatory. I can’t do this for much longer. I need to cut ties.
The boardwalk leading to each room is broken and uneven, another reason for this building to be torn down. Standing in front of room 6, my heart is trying to jump out of my chest. Raising my hand to knock, the door flings open, and I come face to face with the woman I want to forget.
“Well, if it isn’t the worthless son.” Smoke slid from her dainty nose.
I stare down at her, taking all of her in. Messy, limp chocolate brown hair that probably hasn’t seen a shower or a hairbrush in weeks. She had a smoke dangling from her lips and another one glowing between her slightly stained fingers. Her dull skin doesn’t see much sun from the looks of it, and I wonder if she’s eaten anything in the last—fuck, why do I care. Her stained band tee is all I need to know about her living conditions, and remember, she never gave a fuck about me when I was growing up.
“From where I’m standing, I’m not the worthless one, Mom.”
She flicks her smoke at me, and sparks fly as they bounce off my chest. “Watch your mouth. Do you think you're better than me just because you are in a fancy school? Think again, Maddox. You’ll always be a worthless piece of shit. No one cares about you, and if they say they do, they are lying to you. How could anyone love a nobody like you.”
Her words cut me until I’m bleeding at her feet. She doesn’t even have to lay a hand on me anymore. She lets the words take over. No matter how much I want to ignore them, they sink deep, biting to the bone. I try not to show the pain, but the smirk spreading across her face tells me she knows.
“Got nothin’ to say?” she asks with a smoke hanging from her cracked lips.
I swallow the lump and ask the question I’ve been wondering about my entire life. “Why do you hate me so much?” Sweat beads down my back when her eyes narrow, and I’m grateful that smoke isn’t lit.
She pulled the smoke from her lips, pinching it between her fingers. Taking a step toward me, her bony finger drives into my chest. “I despise you, Maddox. You ruined my entire life.” Her face lights up with anger. “I could’ve been someone, but you came along and blew all my dreams out of the water. Why couldn’t you perish when I gave you all those pills.”
Nausea grips my stomach muscles. I stare down at her finger, wondering how she could touch me even after all these years. Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I push her back, watching her tumble to the floor.
“If I disgust you so fuckin’ much, why do you still torture me so much? Why can’t you leave me alone for once in your pathetic life?” Rage shot through me as I screamed at her.
Her laughter was low and throaty. “I’m not the one that keeps returning now, am I?” She defiantly lifts her chin and smiles thinly. “What do you want, Maddox?”
Having Dad yell my name only meant one thing. It was time to head out of the house for what he would call a life mission. I’m not sure what I was meant to be learning. I can hardly tie my shoes. I hate leaving the house with him. He’s mean.
“Let’s go, you little rodent. We have shit to do.”
I’m barely off the last step, and he snatches my arm, making me trip over my feet. Before I hit the floor, he lifts me in the air. Pain shoots down my arm into my shoulder. I know better than to cry out, which would lead to a smack across the face.
“I don’t understand why I need to go?” I asked once he placed me down.
The smack was hard and quick, and it left my cheek stinging. But I still knew better than to scream in pain. I slowly walked to the front door, not looking back.
The life mission that I need to learn today is how to break into cars. I learned a lot of things that day, especially how to outrun the cops when you try to break into the mayor's son's car. No one said my dad was smart.
Of course, he blamed me because I picked the car. How was I supposed to know? The car looked cool. Mom gave me ice cream with white chocolate chips that night, but they tasted bitter.
That was the night she tried to kill me because I almost got her husband arrested for fucking up a job. How, as a six-year-old, supposed to know better? They should’ve handed me over to the state if they didn't want me. Anything would’ve been better.
“I guess I need closure. I want to walk away and forget that you exist. If you want me dead so bad, maybe it’ll happen. But I swear to God, if you or Dad ever come back into my life, I won’t think twice about burning you down with me.” Before I lose it further or she can say anything, I turn and walk away.
My heart pounds until I’m seated behind the safety of my steering wheel. The engine's roar almost calms me, but I need something else. I peel out of the parking lot, spitting gravel behind me. I need to add distance between her fast. That night didn’t feel real, and the ice cream should’ve been a tip-off. Desserts never happened in that hell. But I was excited to be getting something sweet, and by my mom, at the time, I didn’t think twice about shoveling the entire bowl down my throat. I’m not sure how I survived, but they have acted even colder toward me since then. I belong to only one place, even if I don’t want to be there.
When I pull into the RWA gate, I regret coming back here. It’s the same cycle. Should I stay or go? It’s been weighing on my mind for weeks, and I’m unsure what to do. And the same reason to stay keeps me here. Jinx.
But is that enough? It needs to be, or what else is there? I’m pissed with Von. He announced the winners of the symphony, and surprise, surprise, it was Lula. Jinx was right about everything; he’ll make the person he’s sleeping with the winner. He needs to be stopped.
Since I’m still full of rage, I plan to bring Von down for good. Not that anything I’ve ever planned before worked out, but here’s to hoping. I swing into the staff parking and find Von’s car. The douche thinks he’s a hotshot and drives a Mustang. Not even an older one. It’s one from the ’90s.
The only thing I’m thankful for is Dad teaching me how to break into vehicles. I park next to the hot red Mustang, leaving my Impala running; this won’t take long. I grab a bag from the trunk with an arson of tools. I move to the driver's side of the Mustang. Digging into my bag, I grab the slim jim and shimmy it into the door. Before I blink, the lock pops—years of practice.
I quickly pop the hood, and moving to the front of the car, I pull the power steering wire and wiggle the battery loose. Then I move to the driver's side, slicing a small cut into his break line. Von won’t be getting far. I’ll be patiently waiting for him. This might be better than drinking; the thought of waiting for my prey sends my body into overdrive. After I relock his door, I hop back into my car, reverse into the far parking spot, and wait. Von never stays on school grounds late. I'm nailing him hard once he realizes he can’t drive that far.
The slam of a car door jerks me awake. Von is in his gray pin-striped pants and a wrinkled navy dress shirt. His graying hair is a mess, which tells me he had a go around with Lula. I guess if she wants to keep that spot, she had better keep him satisfied. His car hesitates to start, and I can’t help but laugh.
Oh, this is going to be too easy.
I pull out a few seconds after he does, making sure to stay a couple of feet behind. It won’t take long until he realizes his brakes are failing. I’m sure he’s already noticed his steering is stiff enough to turn. We're coming up to the first stop sign, and my heart jumps when his brake lights flash for a split second—his car veers off the road, heading for the ditch. Von’s car slams into the ditch, which is very anticlimactic. I hoped it would’ve rolled a few times, maybe burst into flames. One could dream. Instead, all I hear when I step out of my car is the sound of the horn blaring. Ten buck says the cunt knocked himself out cold. Taking my time, I trudge over and pry open the driver's door.
The sight before me does indeed make me smile. Von is passed the fuck out, and blood slowly drips from a gash just above his eye. Unfortunately, it’s not a wound that will kill him; he’ll wake up with a bad headache.
I bow downward, ducking inside his car. The smell of blood coated the air with a metallic taste. I grip the back of his seat and lean next to his ear. “I know you can hear me, asshole. Let this be a lesson. Don’t fuck with a Van Daren. Because the next time, you won’t be breathing.” I resist the urge to slam his face into the steering wheel, so I turn and walk away.
This seems to be my motto for the day—walking away.