Apartment 3.
Taking a deep breath, I rapped on the door. I had no idea what kind of condition she would be in when she answered.
As I knocked again, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, I immediately was hit in the face was the stench of urine.
Grimacing, I glanced around the tiny apartment. It couldn’t have been larger than seven hundred square feet. The kitchen consisted of a very small rusted refrigerator and a hot plate. No stove. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes crusted with food and mold. Flies hovered around the dishes. Water from a leaking faucet dripped continuously. The kitchen table was littered with needles and tiny plastic bags. Two blackened spoons, a lighter, and a rubber tube sat amidst the trash.
I closed my eyes briefly. This was my worst nightmare.
Still, Debra was nowhere to be found.
“Debra? I’m sorry to just walk in. It’s Ashton, your son.”
I roamed about the tiny apartment. The entire place was covered in a thick layer of cat hair.
But I didn’t see a cat.
Suddenly, a white fluffy cat came walking out of what I assumed was the bedroom. It rubbed against my legs. I cringed knowing that my dark suit pants would be covered in hair. I was definitely going to have to send this suit to the cleaners as soon as I left here. Hell, I might even have to burn it.
I reached to pet the cat. He purred happily swishing his tail everywhere. He had a tag on his collar.
Cecil.
Nice.
“Debra?” I called out again. I had an overwhelming feeling that something was very wrong. I hesitated outside the bedroom door was cracked. What if she was nude? What if she was with a client? That would be even worse.
I rapped my knuckles softly on the door listening for any sounds.
Nothing.
“Debra? Are you okay? It’s Ashton.”
Finally, I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
A sob caught in my throat. There she was, the mommy I’d once loved so much lying on the floor passed out amidst the filth. Her hair lay in dirty blonde strings around her face. Blood was caked in the corners of her mouth. Both arms were riddled with track marks from where she’d shot herself up with dirty needles. I cringed as I noticed the floor littered with used needles, rubber tubing, and a dozen blackened spoons. Black bugs writhed in the mess crawling out of wadded up paper bags with various fast food logos emblazoned on them.
Shaking my head, I bent down to touch her wrist. She felt slightly warm, but cooler than normal. I tried slapping her cheeks lightly.
“Debra! Debra!”
She remained unresponsive. Her skin had a waxy pallor. I jumped back my heart pounding in my chest. Was she dead? Despite my dislike of her, my eyes misted. No matter what she’d done to me she was still my mother. The mother I’d once loved so very much was still somewhere inside her.
Holding her wrist, I waited to feel a pulse. Seconds seemed like hours as I waited to feel her heart beat. Nothing.
Immediately, I wiped the dried blood from her mouth with my shirt sleeve and began CPR. Desperately, I pumped her chest and blew into her mouth.
After several frantic attempts, I felt a faint pulse. It was weak, but it was there.
“Debra!” I shouted trying to revive her. Her pulse remained, but it was so weak. Fearing that she might slip away, I dialed 911.
As I waited for the ambulance, I pulled her up into my arms cradling her head. I smoothed her greasy hair back from her face. Surprisingly for the hard living she’d done in the past, she looked quite young. Her face remained relatively unlined. I kept holding her wrist checking her pulse. It remained faint, but consistent. As I held her, memories of her holding me when I was little came flooding back.
Her eyelids fluttered open.
“Ashton? Is that you?” Her voice trembled it was so weak.
“Yes, it’s me, Debra.” I clutched her hand tightly.
“Ashton, I have so much to tell you. Things I should’ve told you--”
Suddenly, she began to convulse violently. Saliva foamed from the corners of her mouth.
“Debra!” I cried, slapping her cheeks.
“Mom!”
Six
Amber
That morning as I dressed for work, I thought about Ash. Every day for the past six years he was the last thing I thought of before bed and the first thing I thought of each morning.
Stepping out of the shower, I stood nude before the mirror. I envisioned Ash standing behind me his dark hair falling over his forehead as he leaned over me. His hands would trail up my nude body cupping my breasts from behind. I traced my fingers over my hard nipples dreaming of Ash kissing my neck softly as his fingers milked my nipples. My pussy began to get wetter and wetter as I thought of his firm, muscled chest pressed against my back….
Suddenly, the phone rang. I clutched a towel to my body running to grab it.
“Ash? What’s wrong?”
His voice was strained. His breath was coming hard and fast.
“It’s Debra, my mother. She…she wasn’t breathing when I got here. She OD’d. I’m on the way to the hospital with her now.”
“Oh my God, Ash. Is she going to be okay?”
I heard the paramedics talking to her.
“Pulse is weak. Need to stabilize her.”
I collapsed on the bed. Poor Ash.
“I don’t know, Amber. Can you--””
“—come to Chicago? Of course.”
“Yes, I wish you would. I’ve called Whitmore. The plane is ready and waiting if you don’t mind coming here.”
“Of course, Ash. I’ll be right there. Tell Whitmore I’m on my way.”
“Thanks, Amber. I’ll have a driver waiting for you when you land.”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Sitting in the private jet, I couldn’t stop thinking about why I’d left Chicago in the first place.
My past had been turbulent, to be sure. I was one of seven children raised by alcoholic parents. They both worked two full time jobs just to feed us, but when they were home they were usually too drunk to see straight. I knew they loved us, but their alcoholism destroyed our family in more ways than one.
Growing up with five older brothers and one younger sister in a small house on the south side of Chicago was far from easy. Due to our large family, we struggled financially. My father was a plumber and my mother worked as a daycare assistant.
Instead of being protective, my older brothers picked on me constantly. I developed early and their friends continually harassed me.
As the plane circled to land, I gazed out the window at all the houses which appeared as tiny specks below.
“Hey Mark, when’s your sexy sister going to come out?” The pimply faced friend of my brother asked leering up at my window.
Pulling back seeing the group of teenage boys gathered around the house, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing the most modest thing I could. I was only thirteen yet my breasts were extremely large. I had outgrown all my bras quickly and now was forced to wear a matronly bra which made me feel like an old woman. I couldn’t wear the frilly, lacy bras from the department stores.
I had slipped one of my brother, Mark’s sweatshirts on which was very large on me, but still I appeared quite busty in it. I pulled my long honey blonde hair back into a ponytail.
I was the only girl I knew that tried to appear less attractive than I actually was. I couldn’t stand it when my brothers’ friends whistled at me and catcalled as I walked by.
I glanced at the clock. There was no more time to waste. I had to walk outside right past them to get to school.
“There she is!”
“Hey, gorgeous, when are you gonna go out with me?”
“What about me, baby? How about you shake those tits at me?”
“Come on, show us your tits!”
I cringed as I pressed my books to my chest.
“Mark, why doesn’t your baby sister wanna pla
y with us?”
The mob of boys clamored about me. I felt sickened as I tried to hurry past them. These boys were all in high school and I was only in the seventh grade.
I waited anxiously each time for my brother to make them stop. He only laughed along with them.
As I got older, the teasing didn’t relent. It only got more serious. By that time, I had gotten used to the catcalls, the whistles, and the inappropriate comments. I held my head high and stopped caring what people said. I began to use makeup and flaunt my beauty.
Big mistake.
One terrible night caused me to run from the south side and never look back.
Until today that is.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I had been working at the local pub where my parents sat every night after work drinking themselves into a stupor. I wasn’t old enough to serve liquor, but I worked the tables serving food. The outfit I had to wear wasn’t skimpy in the least, but on me it appeared almost lewd. The t-shirt was extremely tight across my chest and there was no more hiding how large my breasts were. Even though I had a tiny waist and small firm ass, the shorts were tight and rode high up on my ass no matter how much I tried to pull them down.
I was eighteen years old and this was one of the last weekends I would have to work there. I had been accepted at Northwestern and I was ecstatic!
As I helped the owner, Sallie close the bar, I noticed Larry, my father’s drinking buddy still sitting at a corner booth slumped over the table. Everyone else including my parents had left. Larry was good looking for a man of his age. He was rugged, but handsome. He usually appeared unshaven. His dark hair was tipped with a bit of silver. He had several tattoos and still worked out regularly. His muscles rippled beneath his shirt.
Larry and his wife, Julie were good friends of my parents. Larry was several years younger than my father, making him about forty-two years old. They had a son, Jackson who was the same age as me. He was a younger looking version of his father. I’d grown up around Larry, so I didn’t think much of him being passed out at the bar. It was becoming a regular occurrence since he lost his job at the glass plant last year.
“Larry, it’s closing time. Can you get up?” I gently tapped him on the shoulder. He reeked of alcohol. It wasn’t the first time he’d passed out in the bar.
“Huh? What?”
“Closing time, Larry. Do you need me to call you a cab?” I bent down to clear the empty beer mugs off the table.
His eyes opened slightly as he gazed at me.
“I know you. You’re the one with the big titties. What you doin’ here?” His words slurred terribly.
“Yes, I’m Amber. It’s time to go home, Larry.” I ignored his rude comment.
“Hey, Amber, are you having a hard time getting that asshole up?” Sallie, the owner, was a tough as nails older woman. She had been the bar owner for over twenty years. I’d known her since I was little.
“Yeah, Sallie, he just doesn’t want to leave I guess.” I laughed carrying the tray with glasses back to the bar.
“Well, I’ll just call his wife to come get him.” Sallie picked up the phone.
I finished clearing all the tables and wiping them down. I was going to be so glad to be finished with this job. Counting up my tips, I stuffed the cash into my purse.
“Go on, get outta here, honey.”
I watched as Sallie shoved Larry out the door. Gathering my jacket and my purse, I walked out the door towards home.
The bar was only about ten blocks from my house. Sometimes I called a cab, but tonight was such a warm night I thought I’d walk.
The streets were nearly deserted as it was after three AM. Even though it wasn’t the best neighborhood, I’d lived here all my life. I felt relatively safe here.
Just as I was walking beneath the L tracks, a dark, shadowy figure appeared.
“Help me. Please help me,” a muffled voice cried.
I turned around to look. It was Larry. He had fallen down on the sidewalk and was reaching up toward me.
Hurrying back, I ran to help him up. I was puzzled as I thought his wife was coming to pick him up.
“Where’s Julie, Larry? I thought she was coming to get you.” I had to step back as he reeked so strongly of alcohol the fumes burned my nose.
“She’s not here, pretty girl. I just need help. My house’s just up the street.”
“I know, Larry. I’ve been there many times with my parents, remember?”
“Just help me walk, okay?” He mumbled holding his arm out to me. He was a tall and muscular man and it was difficult for someone as small as me to help him without falling over myself.
We walked down to his house. It had deteriorated drastically since I’d last been there. The shutters were falling off and the paint was peeling. The grass was knee high. I knew he had fallen on hard times recently with being let go from the glass plant he’d worked at for twenty years. His wife, Julie was nowhere to be seen. The house was pitch dark.
“Where’s Julie, Larry?”
Larry threw the door to his house open.
“She’s gone. She left me, pretty girl. Left me last week. Now I got nothin.” He slurred, tossing his jacket off. He stumbled inside and flicked the lights on.
Horrified, I glanced around at the dozens of empty beer cans and cigarette butts littering the floor and the table. Empty food bags and pizza boxes contained a multitude of bugs crawling all over them. I was repulsed by the sight.
“Okay, Larry, I’ve got to get home now. Have a good night.” I turned to leave.
Suddenly, I felt his strong arm wrap around my body.
“You’re not going anywhere, pretty girl.” His voice was no longer slurred. Terrified, I looked up into his eyes. They were completely clear. His pupils weren’t dilated. It was like he magically sobered up.
“Larry, I thought you were drunk.” I stammered.
He laughed.
“When am I not drunk, right? No, not tonight, pretty girl.”
“Amber, I know you’re leaving in a few weeks. I’ve watched you for years just waiting until you were old enough.”
His voice so clear and so different made my skin crawl. I had never been so frightened in my life.
I struggled to escape his tight grasp.
“Larry, what are you talking about? Old enough for what?” I knew the answer, but was just sick with the thought.
Shoving me against the wall, his strong, beefy hands ran all over my body. He pushed my shirt up revealing my bra.
“For fucking. I’ve always thought it was criminal for a girl so young to have such a great body. I told your daddy that too when you were just thirteen. You know what he said?”
My mouth went dry. Vomit rose in my throat.
“What?” I whispered.
“Told me to wait ‘til you were old enough. Then I could fuck the shit the out of you.”
“What?” My mind reeled. My father wouldn’t have said that. He just wouldn’t. He loved me…
“No, he didn’t.” I squirmed beneath his grip.
“Yep, he sure did. He even told me when you’d be leaving so I could have you. You’re eighteen now. You’re legal.”
“Get the FUCK off me now, Larry!” I screamed clawing at his face.
Slapping me hard, he pushed me down to the ground.
“I already paid for you.”
“What?” I screamed.
“Yep. Gave him all the money I had left. Five hundred dollars.” Larry laughed.
“No,” I whispered. I couldn’t believe it.
“Well, I said it was your daddy, but Mark and Jackson were there too. Mark said he would tell me what to do, how to get you alone.”
Vomit rose in my throat. I could hold it no longer. Opening my mouth, I quickly turned my head and bitter tasting liquid poured out. The sour smell of my own vomit penetrated the air.
“You fucking, dirty bitch.” With that, Larry slapped me again. Blood trickled from my nose and mouth.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I’d known Larry and his wife since I was five years old.
Pulling me up by my hair, he drug me back to his bedroom. The odor of stale cigarettes, beer, and urine sickened me.
“Now, little girl, I paid for you. I want to see those titties. Take off those fucking clothes.”
Curling up into a ball, I shook my head.
Larry reached into his dresser drawer and pulled out a 9 mm.
I sucked in my breath realizing what was going to happen. He must’ve lost his mind! I never imagined he’d do something like this!
“Get out of those clothes NOW!” He pointed the gun at me.
Trembling, I pulled off my t shirt and bra.
Larry’s beady eyes widened as he admired my naked breasts.
“Wow, Amber. You really have grown up to be a beautiful woman.” He held the gun to my head as he ran his hand over my breasts squeezing them. I closed my eyes as he brought his lips to my nipples sucking them.
I cringed hoping that was all he wanted. He gently prodded my breasts with the gun. He traced my nipples with the barrel of the gun then slipped the muzzle over my nipple.
“Now, make ‘em bounce,” he whispered.
“What?” I stammered, my heart thudding in my chest. Perspiration broke out across my forehead. The sweat trickled down my face mixing with my tears.
“Jiggle them for me. You know, bounce up and down!” He commanded pointing the gun at me.
Feeling vomit rising again, I swallowed hard. I shimmied my shoulders making my breasts jiggle.
“Damn,” he moaned. I glanced down seeing his erection through his pants. I desperately wanted to throw up again.
“Now, show me that pussy.”
Oh God, no, I thought. Please, no.
“NOW!” He cocked the gun and pointed it straight at me.
Slowly, I lowered my shorts. I leaned stepped out of my panties. He stared in awe at my shaved pussy.
“Sit on the bed.” He commanded. I glanced at the sunken mattress. It had no sheets and had deep brown stains on it.
Twisted (Dark Book 1) Page 7
