Chapter 2

 Head lights. Very bright and distinctive head lights were no more than two seconds from pulling along side of me.

 My mascara was still damp with tears and running gradually down my rosy cheeks. I wanted to run. Far away from here. From this life in general. I mean, I was going to be brutally murdered the moment I slid into that truck passenger seat anyway, so I don't see why not? But I knew why. Of course I could not just run away. Jamie wouldn't survive a day without me.

 I prayed silently to myself. If he had picked Brenda up first that would give me more time to live, but not a very big window. It would give me time to mentally and physically prepare myself in the bed of the truck. But once again, I was going solely off a miracle.
"Please have Brenda. Please God. I haven't asked for much, but just please let him pick her up first."

 The mischievous truck rolled to a stop in front of my post. Brenda sat in the front seat. Her eyes were bloodshot red from pure exhaustion. 

 Relief couldn't describe how I was feeling when I jumped into the back of the truck. It sped off down the street, busting through red lights and stop signs. It was close to two o' clock in the morning, and an appearance from a cop in this part of town and at this time of night only occurred every blue moon.

 I sat there contemplating what I was going to say, or do for that matter. There wasn't really any other way I could put it. I was robbed at gunpoint, which was without question the most dreadful thirty seconds of my life. The pupils of my alleged robber were branded onto the axis of my mind, and I'm pretty sure there is a bruise on my arm from being held so tightly. The malevolence that could have defiantly given me nightmares, but sadly there was no sleeping tonight. Tonight would probably be my last.

 Any other night it would take close to 20 minutes to get from Pembrook back to home. Oh, but not tonight. It seemed like we had teleported from one place to another. I curled into a slight ball and rocked myself back and forth. He's going to kill me, in ice cold blood. Jamie would probably go back to foster care ifthey found my dead body. That was the only benefit from my brutal death. Jamie would finally have peace, hopefully. 

 My eyes shot open at the sound of the closing truck door. We were pulled diagonally into a dirt filled place just in front of our rundown apartment building. The brick walls were covered in immense graffiti, of all of the local and extremely dangerous gangs that ran though the streets of Detroit. We had no other permanent housing than this rundown piece of trash. This was our last resort when Kyle lost everything.

 Brenda and Kyle had begun to head towards the front entrance of the ragged apartments, without paying much attention to me. They were too busy discussing Brenda???s total income for the night. I managed to keep a safe distance while we walked through the shallow hallways of the complex, passing up bums, carpet stains and a foul smell that somehow I had managed to become immune to. It normally would have made an elderly person drop to their knees and gasp for air, but the majority of the people in the building don't seem to care about anything. The longer I stay here, the more I realize that I'm slowly transforming into one of those people.

 The keys in Kyle's firm grip, switched to the left that caused the door to swing open. His muscles flexed in his brown sweat shirt as he jerked the key from the keyhole and walked in. I never realized how strong he actually was until tonight. I stood in the door way, with nothing but horror written on my damp forehead. My heart dropped to the bottom of my toes, after nearly ripping through my chest a second ago.

 Kyle walked in first, with Brenda clung to the back of him. I had one shot. One shot to make it to my room, pack what things I could, and jump down the fire escape. One solid opportunity to save my life. All the signs screaming at me clearly stated that this wouldn't work even if I wore an invisible cloak and hovered off the floor, but of course, I was stubborn, and paid them no mind.

 With plenty of air in my lungs, I swiftly moved through the filthy living room. I stared at nothing but the door in front of me. I was determined.

 "And where do you think you're rushing off to Megan?" Kyle's hard and proper voice flowed past my skull and right into my ears. I could feel my chest vibrating under me and my lungs picking up speed. I was just inches from my door handle. My head fell to the floor as the tears from my eyes fell onto my black boots.

 "I asked you a question Megan. I want an answer." I could hear him rise from his comfortable position on the torn, worn-out couch.

 Rubbing the tears from my blurry eyes, I turned on my heels to face his brutal expression. His eyes could have cut me in haft by themselves.
"I-I don't have the money." I whispered.

 My sentence seemed to ring through the living room. Brenda sat on the couch looking in horror. She rose from her seat and gracefully strolled over to the kitchen. My vision was solely on Kyle. It took me ten minutes to prepare for this reaction, and I was just ready for it to be over and done with. His face was on the verge of being plastered over the TV and coffee table. Rage did not compare to what was on his face. A needle could have hit the floor two miles away and we all would have heard it.

 "Excuse me, repeat what you said Megan." His difficult voice cut the silence. He walked from behind the couch and moved closer in my direction. Brenda clasped onto a beer held firmly in her hands, while she watched the events that transpired in front of her glowing blue eyes.

I stood up straight and reiterated my words. "I don't have the money. I was robbed." 

 His body was much closer to mine than before. Before I knew it, he was within arms length. He caressed the nape of his neck, while taking very deep and lengthy breaths. His eyes shut momentarily, but the swung open searching for my terrified face. We finally made eye contact. His eyes were so malicious with anger and disgust. 

"I told you not to disappoint me Megan." He spoke, his voice ridged and cold.

 The beer so firmly held by Brenda, crashed to the beige hard tile. Broken glass took up the majority of the floor in our small kitchen. A loud gasp slipped from her tongue.
A rigid masculine fist met the side of my left jaw, causing a loud crunching noise. He had defiantly knocked out a few teeth. Everything was moving so slow. I felt every single ounce of ache Kyle's strike brought with it. Kyle had slapped me around a few times over the years, but he has never, ever, punched me.

 My body collapsed to the blue carpet, taking a pool of blood with it. I prevented my neck from having whiplash as I pushed my arms out behind me to break the fall. My tooth rolled off my tongue onto the floor as I tried to cough up the red fluid from my mouth. It felt like he had snapped my jaw in haft, but somehow it was still intact. I clutched my bleeding mouth, while attempting to wipe away the blood at the same time. I prayed that the wave of anger had passed and he would proceed into his room for the remainder of the night, but he continued his brutal attack.

 He slapped my face back and forth, adding a few kicks to the ribs in between. I was in a terrible amount of pain. A cool breeze swept passed me when the door to my room came swinging open. Jamie jumped onto of Kyle forcing him to back off. She progressed to punch and kick him until there were nearly in the kitchen. I could really see when he threw her to the floor, and walked back towards me.

 I couldn't breathe. I literally could not pass any air though my now closed up air way. My lungs started to cave into the darkness of my chest as my asthma attack was now on full stride.

 I gasped for air and reaching out to Brenda who now decided to step in. My eyes grew blurry with wet salty tears. My chest virtually ripped open from my rigorous wheezing as I clutched my neck, knowing it would be a matter of time before I passed out from no air. I took my final gasp as Brenda slid my inhaler into my mouth and pressed down.

 Blurry, cold darkness sounded my eyelids. I could almost hear the sound of my heart flat lining in my ears.

 Death was peaceful. Calm, quiet, and remotely dark. I could hear the passing cars in heaven, blowing their horns at whatever reckless driver had just ticked them off. But this wasn't heaven. People don't blow horns at other cars and get pissed off here in heaven. It doesn't make sense. Was I in hell? I couldn't be. No murderous heat or tall red man with horns? What a rip off.

 Or maybe I still had a chance. Maybe I hadn't crossed over yet and this was just the beginning of what may come of death. I was petrified. I could still feel my body present, except my eyes. There was only darkness and a few shades of Jamie's happy cheerful face. I was somewhere inside. I could feel the comfort that only an inside of a building gave. Maybe a hospital?

 I lay there, in my lake of darkness, confused. Slowly the feeling that connected the rest of my body with my eyesight returned. They fluttered open to a stained beige wall, a wall that was all too familiar.

 I sat up on my elbows looking around the empty bedroom. My heart began to pound. It was too empty in here. There was no second body to warm me in the ice cold bed. No brown hair to roll onto and no sign of the hand that would smack my face when I did. Where the hell was Jamie?

 I rose out of my bed and tiptoed into the living quarters. At first, I peeped my head though the crack in my door, making sure the coast was clear. A flashback lit up my mind when I first stepped on the carpet that was now covered with bleach stains to cover up the deep red stains. Blood, pain, and Jamie saving my life. I grew dizzy as the smell of ammonia seeped into my nostrils. I covered my face to protect my lungs from the severe stench. The last thing I needed was another asthma attack. Clasping my nose, I sink further into the living room. Still there wasn't any sign of Jamie. I walked back in the direction of Kyle's bedroom. It hurt to even think of his name.

 His loud, vigorous snoring echoed down the hallway, which seemed to make me hate him even more. My malleable footsteps led me to their door frame, which was slightly cracked. I glanced into the room. No Jamie. I looked at the man, so vulnerable in his slumber. I noticed the multiple gashes on his bald forehead. A devious smile imprinted onto my face as I shut the door.

 I drug my lousy feet back to my room giving up on this "Jamie search". She was gone. We had always discussed the possibilities of running away and leaving Kyle and his bullshit in our rear-view mirror. I flopped down face first onto my bed and inhaled the mixed fragrance that the sheets held.

 Jamie and I would work to get us a small decent apartment overlooking Lake Michigan. I would try to go to school and get my degree in culinary arts and she would pursue being a famous well known model for H&M. We had everything laid out in black and white, but there was no following through with this. One word. Kyle.

 But Jamie obviously was successful. She had escaped this hellhole alive, or at least I hoped she did. I needed to find her. I need to make sure her heart was still pulsating with life in her frail chest. I had to make sure she wasn't hurt or lying face down somewhere in a ditch. Maybe this was my excuse to get out of here. He was sound asleep. No sounds made, a slip out out the window and I would be free as a bird. Maybe this was a part of some plan Jamie hoped I would catch onto.

 I sat up and glanced around the stained beige walls. Painful memories lie behind the chipped paint, each one cutting deeper than the next. I slid off the bed and walked to my closet.

 I grabbed a backpack at the bottom and dumped the school contents on the floor. A few t-shirts and jeans flew into the bag along with some underwear and bras. I threw my hair into a hair clip and slid out of my dress. Jeans and a fitted tee were perfect for this occasion. When I finished changing, I walked over to my dresser and filled more clothes into my back pack.

 I lifted up a pile of clothes in my top drawer and grabbed the roll of dollar bills held tightly by a crisp rubber band. Taking ten bucks from my earnings over these past three years had definitely paid off. I had at least two thousand five hundred dollars. I noticed Jamie's roll was missing also, and then it all became much clearer to me. She was going to New Jersey.

 Before things went bad, Jamie had discovered that she had an aunt somewhere on the shore of Wildwood, New Jersey. Frieda was her name, and her name alone seemed to make her vivid red mane even brighter. Freckles dotted her pale checks and engulfed the majority of her nose. Frieda was a very, enthusiastic woman, much how Jamie used to be. She wanted Jamie to come and live with her, but at the time, we were actually happy.

 Jamie and Frieda kept in touch for a while, and suddenly she had become family. We would visit her beach home on the shore of Jersey and vice versa. When things started to go downhill, so did the connection between Frieda and Jamie. It had been years since they last spoke.
We had always said we would go and visit her when we finally got away from Kyle, and maybe even live there. But of course, that got put on the back burner like the rest of our dreams.

 Jamie was probably on the first bus to Jersey and about haft way there by now. She could survive until I got there later on in the day tomorrow. It took about eleven and haft hours to get to Wildwood, but every hour would be worth it on the filthy, worn-out bus. I had to go save my sister.

 I could feel the chains fall off my soul when the bottoms of my shoes touched the cold hard alleyway. My window was shut tightly, leaving no sign that it was uses as my trustworthy escape route. I rubbed the flushed rust from the mature fire escape onto a fresh pair of jeans. With a backpack trapped firmly to my spinal cord and Kyle in my rear-view mirror, I made my way to the downtown bus station.

 Walking on the sidewalks of Detroit at three in the morning wasn't the safest task to be doing. It was past curfew for minors and not to include the chance of getting snatched up by some white bearded creep and being chopped into pieces. I was creating the perfect kidnapping scenario. I had started to increase my pace to the bus station, after a few wary cars slowly passed me. Eventually, I had resorted to running.

 The central bus station had been assaulted like the majority of the buildings in Downtown Detroit. Bums and hobos lurked at the entrance, trying to make a living off of nickels and gum wrappers, or whatever the 'generous' citizens threw at them. I tried my best to hold my head down and pay them no mind, but of course, there had to be one that wanted to try my patience. 

 "Hey sweet thing. Wanna come over here and hangout with us?" A homeless man screamed out as I walked up the steps. A group of them clung to a bench just inches away from the door, and they all reeked of alcohol. They can't afford to get a job and a place to lay their heads at night, but they can drink a bottle of whiskey like its water. What was this world coming to?

 Three of the men rose to their feet, because neither one of them owned shoes. The man that spoke was in front of the rest, as he began to walk in my direction.
"What's the matter pretty lady? Mouse got yah tongue?" The second one spoke in a dirty country accent that made me somewhat nauseous, or maybe that was just the nerves telling me to run back home and crawl under my covers. But that wasn't home. I didn't have a home to run back to. 

 Hurriedly, I sketched up a plan in my head on how to get through these guys, but nothing showed up. My best guess was to just wing it, and run past them right into the safety of the bus station. The men kept laughing and stepping closer and closer to me, the longer I thought. With my mind made up, I nearly jogged in their direction with my eyes only focused on the entrance.

 "Where you running to, baby?" One of the men yelled.
"I think she just scared. Let's get acquainted, cutie pie."
Their musky scent, stirred in with the smell of whiskey, followed after me and almost knocked me onto the ground. I fought though it and successfully passed the first man. My body was nearly free from their horrendous odor when a masculine hand grabbed my wrist.

I felt my chest constrict and my heart sink as the first man threw me into a wall. The three men surrounded me, with a looks of hunger branded onto their faces. More of the men seemed to rise up from their seats as they laughed and smiled at each other like they were a pack of wolves. I held my breath and stared at the demon that stood in front of me, bracing myself for impact. Tears streamed down my cheeks as whimpered. "No. Please. Don't do this." I slumped my chin down onto my chest, still mumbling for mercy. They didn't listen, and no good samaritan came to my rescue. Why me, God? Why me?




Next: Chapter 3
Previous: Chapter 1