Guide Me Home

by Ana Gibson

  “What is she doing? Is she asleep?”

  “No. Damn. Why are you worried about it? You don't think I can take care of my daughter?”

  Was that a trick question? A bit of laughter escapes me after I scoff.

  “That's exactly what I think.”

  A deeper, much more masculine tone resounds from within our room. Everyone stops and my eyes follow the voice. For a moment, there's this dead silence that sinks.

  “Come here, Logan. I've got something for you,” he says.

  “No. I want my daddy.” We all hear it. Mia's eyes shoot back over to me.

  “Who's that?” I ask as I head to the door and knock twice. No one comes to answer it. Everything inside of me collides—my breaths snatched instantly into one large gasp. My heart hammers my ribcage, and the sudden surge of unwarranted energy rips through my veins.

  “Open the door, Mia.”

  “Devin, she's okay. She's doing me a favor.”

  She’s way too cool about it.

  “Open the fucking door. I'm not playing,” I tell her as I jiggle the handle. Logan yelps for someone to come and get her. My trembling hands roughly search through my pockets for the room key. Dammit! I left it inside. Pellets of adrenaline unload throughout my body, like daggers poking through my flesh and expelling an overwhelming response of weakness through sweat.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  I pound the face of the door while still trying my luck at the handle.

  “I left my key inside,” she tells me. Wrong thing to tell me right now. She knew what she was doing all this time. How long had she been planning this shit?

  “You what? Are you stupid?”

  She stands there with that dumb smirk on her face. I ought to beat the shit out of her ass.

  “Open the door, Lo. It's daddy. Come on.” The scream of terror rings through my ears as she shouts for me from the inside and instantly an invisible hand covers my mouth. I can't breathe. Subjected now to the past pain I thought I had forgotten, resurfaces. I have to get my little girl out of there. I have to; this powerlessness subduing me into that dreadful memory as a child, hiding from the woman who wanted to hurt me in more ways than one and me remembering there was no one there to save me. I cried out, but no one came. Not one.

  “Logan,” I shout, banging harder on the door. My heroism suffocates, transitioning into that nightmare of a long time ago. The little boy in me crying out for her to stop. My ears covered and me tucked away in the corner of the bathroom. This is out-of-body. Somebody, please help me. I need to save my daughter.

  “She's okay. What are you panicking for?”

  “Nooo!” Logan screams just before another door slams. A heat burns inside of me rising to the pits of my cheeks. I have to go in there and get her. I have to do it.

  “Open this damn door, NOW.” No one responds. With no easy access to unlock it, there's only one other solution left to me. I ram my foot into the glass window of our room. It breaks into a million tiny veins. Repeat again and again until it shatters everywhere.

  “Devin, what are you doing?”

  I jump inside, and Mia closely follows behind. She grabs at my hood, but I shove her into the broken shards of glass and leap over to the bastard who stands over at the bathroom door half dressed. His doe-eyed stare meets the grimacing gaze of mine.

  “I-I-I didn't know—“

  I lunge at him, knocking his mouth one good time before he finishes. He stumbles over and crashes into the dresser. I swing again, each blow cracking against the skin of his face.

  “You son of a bitch. You touched her.”

  I can't stop. Mercy has never known me, and I never knew her. The coon falls to the floor and drags me down with him, but I don't let up.

  “You…” crack. “Touched…” crack. “My lil’ girl.”

  A hand pulls at the hood of my shirt and quickly ties the strings around my neck. The ambush throws me over while I try to save myself from being choked to death. The drawstring tightens, nestling in the crevice of my throat and I fight for air as I try to loosen it. The first bastard jumps in, finding my weak spot and plunges his fist into my face with all his might. Intense pain drives through the back of my skull, and more hands rain down on me. Through the dizzying spins, I try blocking them as best I can.

  Finally pent to the floor, the tag teaming stops. Just a millisecond of freedom, I catch my breath, but the first coon strikes my face hard and painful like a metal bat to my bones. I hope my jaw isn't broken.

  I move my head just as he raises his fist to hit me again and I chop him right in the throat. He cripples over as his hands wrap around his neck, desperate for air.

  I get up, staggering. The room spins. Blood soaking in my mouth. A headache so severe, I just know if I get hit one more time it will knock me out. This is my chance to finish him. I don't know where his friend went but never mind him. Somebody ain't gonna make it out of here, and it won't be me.

  “Devin stop it,” Mia yells, but her voice is just like a tiny foghorn in the distance.

  “Stop. Please stop. You're going to kill him.”

  And that's exactly what I want. Blood.

  He chokes helplessly on the floor. I raise my foot and kick him hard in the face. He groans. I plunge my foot into him again.

  “DEVIN!”

  Pow! My boot stamps his rib.

  “OH MY GOD. STOP!”

  “Daddy?”

  The shriek from my daughter halts all of my rage. The ringing in my ears swell as the room falls silent. Logan stands away as fear has set in. She stands alone, shaking and crying, while her eyes scan me over. There's blood everywhere—too much of it. Between whose, I don't know. But it makes me shrivel back into myself. The war is over. The shadowy haze of rage dissipates. The lifeless body under mines lay here, suffering from the heat of my fury. His face unrecognizable, and his chest rises and falls out of sync. I let go of him and fall away into a corner. What have I just become? I'm a menace. A monster.

  “Get up Devin!” Mia pulls me by my hoodie, unsteadily bringing me to my feet. The taste of iron coats my tongue. The sting in my knuckles puts me on notice that the adrenaline is fading fast and every hit that I took is going to catch up with me soon.

  “I fucking hate you,” Mia says. She clenches her fist into a tight ball like she’s bout to fight me too. Little does she know, I feel the exact same way.

  “I told you she was fine.”

  I turn to Logan, meeting the horrified look on her face. It churns my stomach. I feel like I've let my girl down but she runs over to me and I drop to my knees and look her in the eyes. I can only imagine what her little mind is thinking.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. She nods.

  “Okay. Go get your things.”

  She hurries to gather her book bag and throws as much of her stuff into it as she can fit. All the while, Mia steps to me with questions.

  “Where are you taking her? I need her here.”

  Silence.

  “Listen to me. I need her here.”

  “Come on Lo,” I say again.

  “Dammit, Devin. I have a debt to pay.”

  Logan comes back over to me. I fix her hoodie over her head and tie the strings and help put her backpack on. It's time to go.

  “I need to pay him,” she turns me around to look at her.

  “Use your own dirty ass body then,” I say.

  Both Logan and I leave out of the room and scurry down the walkway towards the steps.

  “Devin!”

  I ain't turning around. Hell nah. Her sloppy footsteps clap behind me as I continue on my way down the steps and onto the parking lot.

  “You can't leave me like this. Devin, please.”

  Oh, now she wants to cry out for me? We've already had one unnecessary scene. We don't need another. So I stop in the middle of the parking lot not too far from the main office. By now, everyone can see us, those who are willing to watch.

  “The fuck you mean don't leave you? All of
a sudden you don't want us to go? No. You made your choice a long time ago, Mia. You made that choice so now you have to deal with it.”

  “I'm sorry, Devin.”

  “Sorry? Sorry for what? You tried to get your fix by giving our child over for sex. And now you want to tell me you're sorry?”

  “I-I-I—“

  “What if I didn't come at that moment, huh? What if I were one minute too late? Would you be sorry then?”

  “I—I didn't know how else I could pay him?”

  “So you use our child? Are you kidding me? What, did he get tired of your loose ass? He got tired of you all of a sudden, and you want me to believe that you're sorry?”

  “I am.”

  “You know what, you're right. You are sorry. A sorry excuse for a woman, a sorry excuse for a girlfriend and a mother. Get outta here with that mess.”

  “I can make it up to you.” She comes in closer to me and taps her nasty fingers along my shoulder. I shrug them off of me.

  “You need help. I thought I could live with it but nah. I can't do this no more. I'm not fitna carry this burden like it's mine to own. I'm done. I'm tired of being the one trying to fix us. I'm tired of how you treat me. I'm tired of how you gave us up for whatever it is that you do.” The hurt wraps itself around my throat. I try not to choke over my words, but they're getting the best of me.

  “And until you get help, you can forget about seeing us anymore.”

  It's best to walk away before I say any more than I need to. I take Logan by the hand again and start towards the bus stop. Hassad comes out of the office, marching over to me while Mia hurls her insults for leaving her high and dry. I don't have time for this right now.

  “I am calling the police. You broke my window. You still have not paid me my money. You are a disgrace—“

  “Man, Shut up. Just shut the hell up. You can take your damn money. I'm out of here. By the time police get here, I'll be long gone. Fuck this place and fuck you.”

  I hand him the last little bit of cash I have left. I don't know if it's enough to cover the bill, but at least it's something. Me and Logan walk away from the motel. She calls out to me as we get near the bus stop. I don't answer her though because I'm afraid that I'll respond hostile. Pretending not to hear her is what I do. I sniffle and wipe my face. A line of blood smears on the back of my hand. The blood in my mouth is still prevalent and unrelenting. I have nothing to clean myself up with, and it's going to be a long ride to a shelter.

  Logan snuggles deeper into me, I'm sure waiting for a response of some kind, but I have no words for her. I'm mad. I'm hopeless. And sitting here with the constant pain of emptiness growing inside keeps me stuck in this abysmal dark place. If I could crawl under something and die, I would. Right now, it feels like a wolf hungrily eating away at my chest, only I'm allowed to stay alive and watch in provoking horror. My eyes stain with tears now. The walls that I had built long before—the ones that promised to hold me up during life's toughest situations—finally gives out on me. The bomb has gone off, collapsing everything I've known. Reality has now set in. All because of this one mistake.

  CHAPTER 4

  FAITH

  Laughter explodes at the table at my expense, as Clayton cracks unfunny jokes about me that I don't care for people to know. I grab for his hand beneath the table to stop the madness, but he moves it away, takes his glass of wine and sips. The chuckle in his breath is tormenting. He knows what he's doing.

  “So how long have you guys been together?” Chaundrise asks. I tell her two years. And it's been the longest two years of my life. Our wedding is set for next August. I wish I could be excited about it, but I'm not. Clayton tries to stay out of the conversation, constantly bringing the wine glass to his lips. Chaundrise and my good friend, Sareta tag teams me with questions and statements. Sareta's so enthralled that my mother was matchmaker with us—Clayton and Me, that is. Sareta swears we're a match-made-in-heaven. It's all in her tone—all dreamy and inspired. If matches like this are made in heaven, then I'd like my one-way ticket to hell, please.

  Chaundrise asks us how we got together. If I cared enough, maybe I would tell it, but Clayton jumps in, says I was the one who couldn't resist him. Wanted to feed my desire, so he asked me to marry him six months into our relationship. Total bullshit.

  “Is that true?” She giggles.

  “He's just being modest.” I try to sound just as cool about it than he but deep inside, my soul screams for me to tell them the truth. What they don't know is that hours before coming here, we had a huge argument about our plans for Thanksgiving. He wants to stay home while I made plans like every year to go to my mother's house. It then escalated into something totally different and unexpected, leaving me stunned that he slapped me in the face for it. So why am I here tonight? Well, the thing is, I had already accepted Sareta's invitation to come out tonight, and she wanted the fellas here. I couldn't renege, as she's wanted to hook up for some time.

  “See what I mean? They know how to joke around without it being serious,” she snickers. If only she could see the pain buried behind my eyes, she'd think differently. But for so long, both Clayton and I have held up the façade that we're doing just fine; that even sometimes I think we still believe that what we've got is good. So I can't fault her for believing that we're okay and that by August, all will be well.

  “Enough about us though, what about you guys? How long have you and Antwon been married?” I ask. According to her, three years. They still possess that honeymoon phase, and it makes me envious, I admit. Even in their playful bickering about how marriage has its ups and downs, still, their love seems genuine and real. That's what I want. They make it look easy. Unforgettable.

  Their objective advice got me imagining my future with Clayton, and I don't mean in a good way. All the petty arguments this year alone is enough for one to need to call it quits. On many occasions I have, but he'd seduce me back into his arms apologizing over and over until I forgave him. It's wearing me out.

  As the girls go into their similar stories of their married lives, obliviously I nod, pretending to pay attention.

  “You've got to love each other if you want to make things work.”

  And that's the problem. We don't.

  I thought I wanted him for good reasons, but that has faded over time. I don't know if he ever really wanted me to be honest. I think he's just always loved the idea of having someone around to be his punching bag.

  “You guys are friends, right?” Sareta asks, looking at the both of us. We then look at each other, and he leans over and kisses my cheek. His lips cold and loveless, I just wish he'd stop faking the funk, but instead, I faintly smile, adding to his fakeness.

  “Of course we are, isn't that right baby?” He asks me. I nod. Why? I don't know.

  “Well then you know, as long as you remain friends and love each other in the same token, you'll be okay,” Chaundrise adds. I take back a bit of my non-alcoholic drink and nod.

  “You guys want kids?” She starts a whole new subject. Clayton takes up his glass of wine and swirls it before bringing it up to his lips. He chuckles at that question. My hand finds my stomach, feeling around on the slight bump that's forming. I haven't told anyone yet, except for Clayton and that was by default before him telling me of his nasty secrets.

  “You go ahead and answer that question,” he looks at me.

  “Umm, I think…” I start, but my phone buzzes against my thigh and I hurry to look at the caller ID, hoping it'll be a good save. The number is unknown, but I pretend like it's someone I know.

  “Excuse me. I need to take this real quick. I'll be right back.” Clayton moves out of my way while I rush towards the restroom, slide through the door and take the first stall available to me. Okay Faith, gather yourself. Don't you break down in here while they're out there waiting for you to come back. You need to look as normal as possible. You best hope they forgot the question when you get back.

  I wait a little while, t
en minutes maybe before encouraging myself to go back out there and face them. Ten minutes is long enough to forget what was being asked, isn't it?

  I walk out of the stall, bumping straight into Sareta as she makes her way in. We catch eyes, and she tilts her head to the side like she knows something is wrong.

  “You good?”

  Nothing is ever good with me. I clear my throat and put my phone in my pocket, loosening my sweater around my stomach so that no bump will be seen. I shake my head, giving in to a fake smile.

  “Yeah, everything's good. I just…I needed to take that call, and then I had to use the bathroom.”

  She doesn't seem convinced, however, she nods and places her hand on my shoulder.

  “Oh okay. I was getting worried. Thought someone kidnapped you,” she laughs. You know, a kidnapping doesn't seem like a bad idea right now.

  “No, no. I'm good.” I turn towards the sink mirror, doing my best to appear as normal and emotionally put together as possible as she runs off at the mouth about how crazy funny Clayton is.

  Crazy, yes. Funny? Well….

  “Come on. Let's get back out there with the rest of them. I'm so glad you guys came out tonight.” And she goes on and on as I drift back into myself, dreading this long walk back to the table where my sad and fictitious love of my life sits waiting for me.

  “You've got a really good man.”

  CHAPTER 5

  DEVIN

  Monday

  Week of Thanksgiving

  Since the drastic uprooting from the motel, this last week has only consisted of two things; looking for a job while Logan is in school and trying not to lose my mind at the same time in front of her. The first night I couldn't get past the hurt and anger. My mission was wondering where we would lay our heads for the evening in the midst of that. The second night was the same. Day three, four and five, I started caring about nothing else but keeping Logan safe and out of sight for a potential child welfare case due to my current circumstance. It'd be nice if I had a family to help me, but I'm an only child. The only family I had were the ones I created years ago outside of the ones God cursed me with. So I grew up alone. I didn't have what was considered normal back then—two-parent home, siblings, fancy clothes and shoes, full cupboards, and a sense of self and respect.