by Tyler Porter
He got out and slowly made his way up to the porch of the trailer. He sensed no movement around the place and peered in a window as he walked up the steps. As far as he could tell, no one seemed to be home. Either that or they could be sleeping; it was still early morning after all. He knocked on the door three times and waited. Nothing. He knocked a few more times, harder than before, but still there was no response. Not thinking it would actually be unlocked, he tried the knob; to his surprise it turned, and the door opened.
When whatever fumes were looming in that trailer landed on his face, he was immediately blinded as his eyes watered profusely. They burned like he’d just been pepper-sprayed. For a moment, he thought he may have set off some sort of booby-trap. However, once he was able to will his tear ducts to stop leaking, and he wiped away the remainder of the tears, he saw that it was no trap at all. Traps are normally hidden away as to not tip off their intended target, but the cause of his discomfort was sitting right out in the open for all to see.
Syringes, crack pipes, and cocaine residue were littered all around the congested interior of the trailer, but what was most plentiful was definitely the syringes. There had to be ten or twelve that were visible from his spot in the open door; it was anyone’s guess how many more were actually located in that hell hole. Aside from the drug contraband, he noticed fast food wrappers, pizza boxes, beer cans, and mostly-empty bottles of vodka or whiskey. Shot glasses and beer bongs were strewn around the kitchen area, with some on the tiny card table, some on the counter, and some on the floor.
It was as open a layout as it could be in the cramped space. The kitchen opened into the living room which took up most of the trailer aside from a small hallway to the left that appeared to house one bedroom and one bathroom. The only furniture in the living room was a beat-up, old TV stand (with no TV on it), and a stained, holey couch that looked as though it was prepared to cave in. He assumed the TV had probably been sold to fund the extracurricular activities that required the pipes and needles.
There were only a couple of pictures hung crookedly on the walls with no other decorations. One was of a pit bull; he hoped that the dog was not hidden somewhere in the trailer, especially considering the rippling muscles displayed on the grey K-9’s body in the photo. Another hung across the room above the couch, and it was, he could only assume, a picture of his sister, and the boyfriend that his mother had warned him about.
He walked ten paces, stopped in front of the couch, reached up, and pulled the photograph from its place on the wall. He lifted it up to eye level so that he could have a true look at the young woman that his sister had become, and the man she’d chosen to spend her life with. In the photo, she appeared both drunk and high. She was grasping an off-brand whiskey bottle by the neck and hanging off of the man in the picture.
Even in poor quality picture form, he could see that her eyes were glazed over and half-closed, like she wasn’t truly present in the moment. Then he turned his focus to the guy that stood next to her. He was a short, stocky white man with tattoo sleeves up and down each arm which were hanging out of either side of a white wife-beater. His head was shaved, and he sported a patchy, black beard. He also had a tattoo across his throat; Matt could see that it was a word, but could not make out what it said. He was focusing hard to determine whether or not he had ever seen or met this man before.
Their two towns were only a twenty-minute drive apart, and it was very possible that the two had crossed paths before, particularly since he looked to be about Matt’s age. For a moment, the man did look familiar, but not in the way like he had met him before. He seemed familiar in a different way, yet Matt couldn’t place it. He was just feeling like the answer was about to come to him when he heard a noise coming from behind him that sounded like a floorboard squeaking. He spun around quickly with his eyes toward the floor, expecting to find the pit bull from the picture, but instead a red pair of high-heeled shoes came into his view.
He slowly let his eyes move upward, praying to any god who would listen that the person standing here was not who he feared it would be. The woman wore an extremely short skirt that came to a screeching halt at her upper thigh, and a belly shirt that barely covered the entirety of her chest. He stopped moving his eyes up at her neck. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to see her face. He wasn’t ready to look her in the eyes. But after several seconds and coming back to his senses that he was legally trespassing, he gave in. He lifted his head level with hers and met her eyes with his.
Chapter 4: Times Have Changed
“All these years and you aren’t gonna fuckin’ say anything? Just gonna stand there and hope this goes away? Hope that it’s not true? That your little sister isn’t really living this life and that this is all just a bad dream?” she said.
“I know, I know. I’ve been gone a long time,” he started.
“Don’t! Don’t start in on me with that shit, trying to be the big brother I used to have.”
“Mariah—”
“It’s Mar now. Aaron came up with it, caught on pretty quick. Don’t like the old way anymore.”
“Mar. Look, I came to see you, to tell you... to tell you how sorry I am,” he said.
“What are you doing in my house?”
“I’m sorry, I just... I was looking for you, and the door was unlocked.”
“So, you just figured it was okay to waltz on in? Thought it would be fine? Like I wouldn’t remember you abandoning me? Abandoning us? Maybe that would all just be water under the bridge and you could let yourself in and give me a big hug? You’re trespassing.”
“You’re right; I shouldn’t have let myself in. I’m sorry, I just had to see you.”
“You know what? That is why all of this happened in the first place, Matt. You always thought what you wanted or what you had to do was more important than anything else. That’s why you killed him.” The words cut like a blade. “That’s why you ran away and never came back. That’s why you were so willing to rip our family apart—because it’s what you had to do.”
“Is that what you’re doing now Mari— Mar? What you have to do? Surviving, by dancing naked in a trucker bar?” The words came out too fast. His filter failed him, and he let the words develop before he had fully thought them through.
She held his gaze with cold eyes only for an instant or two before she responded swiftly. “No, I’m doin’ what I wanna do and what Aaron wants me to do. Pays the bills, and I’m not flippin’ no fuckin’ burgers at some fast food shithole.”
“It’s what Aaron wants you to do, huh? I’m guessing Aaron is the tattooed guy in the picture on the wall over there? Is that where he met you? Back room? Private dance?”
“It’s really none of your business where or how I met him. He is cool with me doing what I do for work, because he thinks I should be able to show my beauty to the world any way I fuckin’ please,” she snarled.
“Hmm, seems like a real Hollywood love story. Drug dealer meets stripper, and they live happily ever after, because the prince of pipes is comfortable enough with your relationship to be okay with you showing your naked body to other men for a living and dancing on their laps. Except, that isn’t why he is okay with it, is it? He is okay with that, because you are his avenue to truckers on the road looking for a fix. You’re his way of finding new customers.”
Again, his emotions got the best of him. He said what ran through his head without thinking, and immediately could see the anger fill her eyes. For a split second, he was taken back to a happier time, back when they were still at home, him a teenager and her a little girl. He remembered that same death glare because he got it on a daily basis. He had a bad habit of going out of his way to get under her skin and get her all worked up the way siblings do. He would play keep-away with one of her dolls or jump out of some hiding place in the house and scare her. In either case, she would always react the same way. She would start to cry, but then she would give him the look before going to tell Mom what he had done. It had alw
ays been in fun, and he would always tickle her or joke with her until she forgave him. But in this moment, he saw pure hatred in her eyes.
“You know what Matt? Fuck you,” she said as she moved past him into the kitchen. “You don’t get to just show up here and judge my life. Maybe things would be different if you wouldn’t have ran away like a scared little pussy, but you did!” She began rummaging through drawers and cupboards as she ranted. “Now I do things my way, and I don’t need some big-brother-wannabe to show up and fix me.”
After digging for what seemed like forever, she drew her hand back out of a drawer holding a shot glass and a small vial that contained a white powder. She slammed the shot glass down on the card table and began twisting the top off of a vodka bottle, all while still cursing to herself. She filled the glass to the brim, lifted it to her lips, and without a pause threw the liquid to the back of her throat. Before she’d even finished swallowing, she was filling up her next drink, and after drinking that one, she opened the small vial and dumped a tiny pile of white powder onto the table.
Cocaine. Matt had no real experience with the drug, but he knew that it had the highest rate of overdose of any illegal drug. He watched as his sister pulled a credit card out of her purse and began forming the pile into a neat line. It was almost too painful to imagine, but he was certain that this was a normal activity for her. That being the case or not, he was not about to let her die on his watch. He moved slowly toward her and reached out, gently placing his hand on her arm. She shook it off hard and turned to him in a rage.
“Don’t fucking touch me! Don’t fucking touch me! Get the fuck away from me!” She smacked him hard three times in the face while screaming.
He could see that she was crying as well as screaming. She turned back to the table and leaned down toward the white line. He couldn’t watch this happen. He grabbed her by the shoulders and, as gently as he could, pulled her away from the table. She only fought him at first, but he could see that she was emotionally breaking down. Her make-up was now running down her cheeks, and she was crying so hard that no sound was coming out. He moved his arms around her and held her tightly. She cried into his chest the way she had when she’d told him what had happened to her, and just like on that night, he just held her in silence.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is going to be alright now. I promise,” he said.
They stayed that way for a long time—just standing there in the kitchen, not saying anything. As she cried, he began to cry. He couldn’t help but feel like this was his fault. She’d needed him all those years ago, and he’d made a choice. At the time, he thought it was the right choice. He thought if he took off, he wouldn’t be a black stain on his family. He thought maybe things could go back to normal if he wasn’t around. He’d chosen wrong back then, and it had torn his family apart. His dad lost his mind, his mom didn’t know how to deal with it, and his little sister got lost in the shuffle. Her life had been destroyed perhaps even more so than it had been by the rape, because she had no one and that was his fault. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the man behind him walk in.
Chapter 5: The Boys in Blue
“What the fuck is this?”
Mariah jumped out of Matt’s embrace so fast it was as if he’d shoved her. The sadness that showed all over her face instantly turned to absolute fear. Matt turned to find the short, stocky, tattooed man from the photo—the man who Mariah had called Aaron. He stood in the doorway with a black duffle bag in one hand that he let drop to the floor as Matt turned to him. The two men stood, silently assessing one another, looking each other up and down. Aaron looked at Matt hard, but then turned and looked furiously at Mariah.
“It’s not what you think, Aaron, I swear! He’s just—” she tried to explain, but he cut her off mid-sentence.
“He’s just what!? He’s just here to fuck you? How much? How much you little skank!? I hope he didn’t agree to much, because you’re a two-dollar gutter-slut!”
As his voice grew louder and louder, he’d begun taking steps toward her, but as he began to step from the kitchen into the living room, where she’d backed up into, Matt moved into his path.
“That’s enough,” Matt said.
Aaron now aimed his fury at Matt.
“Hey, you already made a big mistake by comin’ here bro. I am giving you the chance to leave right now, and I am only giving it because I know how much of a fucking whore she is. I suggest you take the offer and go before something bad has to happen.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I am not going anywhere. So, what exactly is going to happen now?” Matt answered defiantly.
Aaron let a half-smile, half-snarl show on his face before moving his right foot backwards. Matt could see clearly this was so that he could more easily throw his first swing and have better footing. Mariah, who knew the gesture all too well, saw the shift as well and moved to Matt’s side.
“He’s my brother Aaron!” she screamed as she moved in between the two men. “I haven’t seen him in years, and I didn’t know he was coming! Please don’t hurt him!”
“Get the fuck out of my way you little bitch!” Aaron yelled as he grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the side.
As Matt watched this unfold, he noticed when Aaron pulled her hair up and away from her neck that she had some tremendous bruising already on the back side of her neck. It was only then that he noticed the little welts, bruises, and scars that covered her body. He imagined they were each caused by moments like this, moments of triumph when his little sister had finally decided to stand up to this guy, only to have him beat her back down.
As Aaron threw her to the side and turned back toward him, Matt lost it. He quickly put both of his hands behind Aaron’s neck, locking his fingers together, and swung to his left causing Aaron to move that way as well. With all the power he could muster, Matt swung and released him into the small TV stand in the living room. Aaron lost his footing from the momentum and crashed into the small, weak piece of furniture and fell right through it, smashing it into pieces. He was back on his feet quickly after the fall, and obviously foaming with anger. But just as quickly as he’d regained his footing, he lost it again as Matt’s left foot sent him flying backwards against the wall and back onto the ground.
Matt approached him and bent down to continue the beating when Aaron swung his right arm around. A stinging, burning pain came to Matt’s cheek. He brought his hand up to the irritated area, rubbed it, and pulled his hand away to find it covered in blood. Only then did he see the knife. Aaron stood up and eyed Matt with a smile on his face, and he raised the knife up ready to strike again. Matt stood his ground and knew that this would only end one of two ways. Either he was going to be lying dead on the floor of that trashed-up trailer, or he was going to commit his second murder. But he didn’t have much of a choice: it was Aaron or him; kill or be killed; and there was no third option in sight. That is, until a new voice echoed in the space.
“Hold it! Bascom, you just relax now and set that knife down real slowly.”
The voice came out of a wide little man who Matt quickly deciphered must be the Sheriff of Alta Vista. He was standing in the doorway of the trailer with his gun drawn. Mariah was shaking against the wall with a phone in her hand; she had apparently called it in. She was either afraid for him or afraid for Aaron, but either way she knew what Matt knew—if this wasn’t stopped, one of the two men was going to die. If it would have been Matt, she would have been left alone to deal with Aaron’s fury, and if it was Aaron, then the past would be dug up all over again and she was back in the middle of a murder trial.
“He’s trespassin’, Steve. I got every right to defend my home from this intruder.” Aaron still hadn’t dropped the knife.
“I’m with you, but he is unarmed, and the law is present to handle the situation. Now, I said, put it down!”
Aaron ignored the order and kept the knife where it was as he burned a hole in Matt’s eyes with his own
. “I will kill you. If you stick around, there will come a time when Sheriff here ain’t around to save your ass, and I will kill you,” he snarled at Matt.
“I would suggest keeping that knife on you or getting yourself something a little bigger, because I’m not going anywhere and your fists aren’t going to get the job done,” Matt answered.
“That’s enough! Both of you! O’Bannon, you are under arrest for trespassing on private property, breaking and entering, and assault. Put your hands behind your head slowly. Bascom, take three steps backward and put that knife down! Now!”
Matt waited until Aaron took his steps backward before slowly raising his hands up and behind his head. A few moments later, the Sheriff pulled each down and behind his back one by one, securing them with steel handcuffs.
“Let’s go,” he said as he led Matt toward the door.
As they walked together toward the exit, Matt looked over to Mariah. He expected to see something in her eyes that reminded him of his sister, something familiar at some level. She didn’t even return his glance. She moved from her place on the wall and swiftly across the room to tend to Aaron who was smirking as Matt watched his sister fussing over the man who had been ready to kill him. He didn’t take his eyes off of her until the Sheriff jolted him to move out of the trailer.
He was escorted to the police cruiser and carefully helped into the back. The Sheriff got into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and pulled away from the little yellow trailer. He said nothing as he pulled out of the trailer park, but Matt noticed immediately that they had turned right and were going away from town, not toward it. They drove for a few minutes down the country road before making another turn onto another, then drove that one for several more minutes.
