by Adams, Lucia
At one point, he reached for Hannah’s hand and squeezed it. He looked at her windswept hair and her faint pink lips. He had chosen the right girl; after all, these things had to be genetic.
CHAPTER 16
Under The Sea
Hannah was glad she took Jared to her family picnic. He was charming and attentive, especially to her little sister, Lorri. She did think, at one point, he had an erection, which she worried about because he spent so much time with Lorri, but he squeezed her hand, and she knew it was for her.
He seemed happy on the ride home, chatting about how much fun he had at the picnic and how pretty he thought she was. His curfew was early, so she planned on dropping him off and driving past Matt’s house to see if his lights were on.
Jared was late, so he startled Hannah by planting a quick kiss on her mouth and jumping from the car. She touched her lips and smiled as she pulled away, mindlessly licking the spot for several minutes. She traveled the few blocks to Matt’s house and saw that the lights were on. Of course they were on. It was Saturday night and he had things to sell and customers to please.
As soon as Hannah climbed the last porch step, she could hear it—the sound of Matt fucking the other Hannah. Unsure of what to do, she stood for a moment. The last time she tried disturbing them, he ignored her knocking. She decided to keep her pride intact, and tip-toed down the steps.
Self-hate was a devil which flicked its tongue up and down her spine, treeing out to the rest of her. She cracked her neck. Tonight. It was time. She’d have to go to the twenty-four hour convenience store and grossly overpay for disposable razors, but she would show Matt what he had done to her. He had made her body into a canvas and she was only finishing the drawing.
The razors were in the last aisle with the other random and over-priced items: Six dollars for a quart of oil, three dollars for a can of dog food, and two dollars for two aspirins. The package of razors was dusty, as though they had been waiting for her for quite some time. She picked them up and grabbed something to drink so it didn’t look as though she was there to buy self-harm paraphernalia.
She smiled with the satisfaction of a secret keeper as she confidently walked to the counter. Someone stepped in front of her and she looked up—it was Marcus.
“Hey, Hannah, what you doin’?”
“Ah, just stopped to get a few things.” She noticed his eyes moving up and down her as he chewed on a toothpick.
“You know if Matt’s around? I stopped by and he didn’t answer.”
“Yeah, I just stopped by too; it seemed like he wasn’t at home.”
“Uh-huh. You lookin’ or was you goin’ to hang out?”
“Oh, I was lookin’, you know.”
“Yeah, me too. I know a place over in Prospect we can get somethin’, but I would need a ride over there. It’s a fuck of a long walk.”
“Oh, cool. Yeah—Prospect is a long walk.”
“What’d you think? You wanna give me a ride over there and we can gets some stuff?”
“Um…yeah, sure. I can give you a ride. I just gotta pay for my drink.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you outside; I’ll just be a minute.”
Hannah felt uncomfortable. The happiness she anticipated when she thought she was going home to make ribbons on her skin evaporated as she was unsure of what she was getting herself into. Marcus was attractive, but she didn’t know him very well.
*
When they arrived outside of the house, Marcus waited for Hannah to open her door. “You gots to come in with me, girly-girl.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, you can’t sit outside of a drug dealer’s house. You wanna be shot? Besides, you gonna hit it with me in there, right?”
“I thought I’d take it home and smoke it.”
“Smoke it? Are you serious? You wanna waste your shit by smokin’ it?
Hannah didn’t respond. Veining it scared her; the risk of death, addiction, and repeating an act she had only done once and never expected to do again, made her heart race.
“You come in with me and I’ll make sure you have fun.” Marcus slapped his hand on Hannah’s thigh and squeezed.
A flash of the sound she heard on Matt’s porch invaded her thoughts and her body ached with devastation—vomit lurched up towards her throat and the urge to cry burned in her face. She smiled at him, got out of the car, and followed him up the sidewalk, through the rusty chain link fence gate which swung spastically because it was only attached at one hinge.
There were several people inside, and although Hannah wasn’t the only girl, she was the only conscious girl. Actually, she was the only normal-looking person—something she noticed three minutes before someone pointed it out to her when they asked her with a narc. She replied with a nervous smile and stayed close to Marcus as he answered for her. Not fitting in was something she’d become accustomed to over the years, but suspicion was new to her. Hannah considered herself so timid and harmless, she never expected anyone to think she might be any sort of threat. She quickly decided to tell them that she worked at the grocery store and to not mention City Hall, but they never asked.
The exchange was quick—money for buns and riggs. Hannah watched as Marcus pulled his kit out and prepared a hit for her.
“You first, babygirl?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded, acutely aware that she didn’t want to be the second one to use the needle.
They were in the dining room, adjacent to the room everyone else was in.
“Where you want this?” He held the needle up, full of the brownish-liquid.
“In the ankle again? Can you do that?”
“Sure thing, hop up on the table.”
“Sit on the table?”
“Yeah, they don’t mind—trust me.”
Hannah did trust Marcus—she had no reason not to.
“You little anyway.”
Little. No one had ever called her that before. She was on a new diet…the three day diet. She was only allowed to eat every three days; it was working. All of her clothes hung off of her now and it made her happy to hide in them. I’ll never be as skinny as the other Hannah…
He tied her up and smacked her ankle. “You got pretty feet, girly.”
“Thanks,” she giggled.
She didn’t feel the needle go in, but she felt the plunger as it pushed into the barrel. He untied her and the wave was instant.
She inhaled, “Holy fuck. How much did you give me?”
“Don’t you worry, you gotta trust me. You gonna be ohhh-kay.”
Hannah was okay. After Marcus took his hit, he slid a hand under her shirt, grabbing her breasts as he kissed her. She felt good—too good. He pushed her back onto the table and she imagined she was lulling on a hammock under the sea. Jellyfish and stingrays swam around her as her tights came off and Marcus entered her. He was slow, and she was warm, like fire under the water.
I could live like this.
But then, her finger scraped the prickled tops of starfish and the waves started raveling into themselves under the sea, curling so tightly, they crashed on top of her. She opened her eyes and Marcus was gone. The man who had let them into the house folded her in half as he worked his cock into her ass. Every drop of adrenaline her system could spurt out died by heroin’s sword. There was no fight or flight in her, just acceptance of what she could not change.
Nothing hurt; it was only the pressure of the sea fighting its way into her body. He was pushed so far into her that she could feel him in her stomach. He asked her if she liked it. She said, “Yes” but meant to say, “Stop”.
When they were all done with her—some of them twice, she rolled off of the table and onto the floor with a thud. Marcus gave her one more fix and left her alone. She knew they had run a train on her; the impatient ones edged in for an empty hole as someone else was busy with another. She opened her eyes as little as possible when it was happening. One time she looked into the face of an older man with shiny skin and only a few tee
th. They asked her questions she didn’t answer and moved her however they needed her. She was certain she was split open from one hole to the next.
She dreamt she was in a dandelion field, in the radiating sun, sitting in the new grass of spring time. She blew the seeds off of the stems and the white fuzzes took flight. Yellow flowers turned to seed as soon as she touched them, and her puckered lips cast swirls of delicate, feathered seeds into the air. Even though she couldn’t see the butterflies, she could smell them.
*
The kick missed her face, but landed on her right shoulder. She opened her eyes and some girl was standing over her, spitting mad, kicking at her and screaming, “You white bitch, get the fuck outta my house. You fucking piece of shit drug slut. You fuck my man you whore?” Another kick landed on Hannah’s ribs. Someone was giving a half-hearted attempt at holding the girl back.
Hannah scrambled to her feet, but kept slipping. The girl broke free and knocked her down before someone grabbed her again. Hannah pulled her pants on and stood up, holding onto the table.
“You come inta my house and spread your legs for my man? You fucking stupid bitch. Let me go, I’m tellin’ you, let me go.” She broke free from the man who was holding her as Hannah hurried past her. The girl swung her purse at her and missed, striking herself instead.
Hannah made it out of the house, but she could still hear the yelling as her anxious fingers searched frantically in her pocket for her keys. Her steps were crisscrossed and unbalanced. She made it inside of her car and locked the doors. The girl failed to open Hannah’s locked car door, so she pounded the flat of her hand against the side window. With a running jump, she kicked in the side of Hannah’s car door. Everything was still cloudy and spinning when Hannah started the car and pulled away. She wasn’t sure she could drive home, but knew she had to at least make it down a few blocks and park.
She sobered up as she drove, certain she could make it home. The drive was blurry, but short, and she was relieved as she parked in front of her apartment. She tripped over her own feet and fell as she walked to her front door. Once inside, she crawled up the stairsto her bathroom. Skye yapped at her, wanting let outside, but she ignored her. She had stomach cramps, so she sat on the toilet, but could only shit cum and blood. A pile of dirty laundry on her bathroom floor softened her fall and became her makeshift mattress as she slipped into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER 17
Milk
Jared saw that the door panel of Hannah’s car was pushed in. He wasn’t worried—worrying would go against his nature—but he was curious. He knocked until it was tiresome; still, Hannah didn’t answer. The old lady who lived next door kept peeking at him through her front screen door. Jared smiled and waved at her; she hesitated, but waved back. Even though it was Sunday, he decided to let himself in. The key slid in with silent cooperation, and he was inside within seconds.
The afternoon light was filtered through the blinds and the curtains. It was nearly dark inside. Skye came running to him, but did not bark; she just growled. He kicked at her and she ran up the stairs.
Jared took patient steps—agile like a cat, but far more lethal. He eased his weight onto his foot before shifting himself onto it entirely. He didn’t want to be heard. Hannah was either not home, or she was upstairs. He decided to creep up the stairs and find out
He was quiet—like water seeping into cement crevices. Up-up-up the stairs…until…he saw…her. Long brown hair flowed away from her body in waves, except for the giant tangled mess of knots jutting out from the back of her scalp. Jared’s mother used to get them. She called them rat’s nests and she said they were from getting a restless sleep. Hannah wasn’t sleeping—she was passed out. From the waist down she was naked, but she was lying on her side, so Jared couldn’t see anything. With the tip of his shoe, he nudged her top leg until it flopped back and spread apart from the other one.
He crouched down beside her and could see her cunt. It was shaved, and without the hair to hide anything, he could see blood and something else—cum. It had been in his own palm enough times for him to recognize the smell.
Jared was angry. He had plans for Hannah and didn’t want other men touching her. He stood up and went to the cabinet drawer. He knew where the scissors were—where everything was kept. He held them in his hand and knelt by her body.
How easy it would be to stab this into her throat. She’d open her eyes and gasp, but choke on the blood before she died.
He imagined her vacant eyes as he hollowed her soul out with the metal scissors.
No! You must find out if she can fly first, then use the scissors on her.
Jared opened the scissors, separated a long strand of Hannah’s hair, and cut it off. He returned the scissors to the drawer and carefully wrapped the hair in a piece of tissue. After the hair was placed into his pocket, he crouched beside her again and looked closely at her leg scars. He twanged with jealousy that Matt had already had his chance to mar her.
It’s my chance now.
He shook her, gently at first, but then more vigorously. She started to come to.
“Jared? What are you doing in here?”
“Hannah! Are you okay? I stopped by and saw what happened to your car. The door was open, and…I’m so sorry, but I was worried something happened to you, so I came in to see if you were okay.”
“My door was open?”
“Yeah, and your car has this giant dent in it.”
“Aw, fuck.” Hannah sat up and realized she was partially naked. She hurried to cover herself with a towel. “This guy—Matt’s friend—I ran into him at the store and he asked for a ride. Him and a bunch of his friends—they—.” Hannah stopped. She moved a little bit and froze. “Fuck—I’m so fucking sore.” Hannah sniffled back tears.
“Hannah—do you need to go to the hospital or should we call the police?”
“No. There’d be too many questions. I—I can’t.”
“I understand.” It was all empty for Jared, but he was playing the part. He smiled, as he knew what Hannah’s answer would be, and he was right.
“Could you please give me some privacy while I shower?”
“If you’re sure you’ll be all right.”
“I’ll be fine,” she sniffled.
Jared went downstairs to wait for Hannah. He heard her footsteps and then the shower. He had lots of things to think about, but they all led back to the erection pushing against the resistance of his pants.
He didn’t think about people, but rather things—the snapping sound a neck breaking made, the fleshy part of wounds, and open palms catching wind when someone fell. He tugged at his cock, squeezing out every drop of cum that he could onto his left hand. The noise of the shower stopped, and he heard Hannah moving around upstairs. Hair combing and dressing, all with sore parts, would take her a while. He walked over to the refrigerator, his flaccid cock still bobbing out of his zipper as he opened the door with one hand. He extracted the gallon of milk, removed the cap, and scraped the contents into the milk. When he was satisfied with the absence of fluid on his palm, he replaced the cap and shook the jug before placing it into the refrigerator.
Upon returning to the living room, he caught his reflection in the sliding glass door in the kitchen. He stopped to admire his cock and its length. He arched his back out like a couture model and placed a hand under its impressive weight. He thought about how Hannah would like it. She was a slut—there was no arguing that—but he would change her and she would love him.
He returned to the couch, tucked himself back in, and waited for Hannah.
When she came down the stairs, she was in her black tights under a black skirt, with a black shirt and a little black sweater. The air conditioning was kept high and Jared realized it was because Hannah’s outfits weren’t suitable for the summer. Her eyes were red and her skin looked freshly scrubbed. A hair brush was in her one hand and she moved slowly.
“I have a giant knot in my hair, but I can’t seem to get it
out,” she said with a small voice.
“Would you like me to try?”
Hannah hesitated and looked down at the floor. “Could you? Please?”
She sat next to him on the couch with her back facing him, and handed him the brush. At first, he carefully ran it through her hair, but sometimes he would pull at the knot to watch her wince. Sitting this close to her allowed him to notice that she had a pretty neck and he admired her ears. Jared continued to take inventory of her details: she smelled like citrus, a faint blue vein ran down her chest from her right shoulder, and she had a small pimple at the top of her back.
Jared continued to brush her hair long after the knot was out. She closed her eyes and seemed to like it. After awhile, she turned to snuggle into the crook of his arm. He pet her hair as she wept.
“There, there, my little bird. Sshh, don’t cry. Would you like me to take care of these people that hurt you?”
“Hannah nodded her head, but did not look up.”
CHAPTER 18
Sprinkle
Hannah had tears on her skin and tears in her skin. She found the irony in their identical spellings to be numbing. The water in the shower burned, but not as bad as the soap. When she was done, she threw the bar of soap and the washcloth away. She never wanted to use them again.
The knot was massive, and she tried to get it out of her hair, but her shoulder hurt too bad to keep using her arm. The only person to blame was herself. If stupidity were a cupcake, she had shoved the whole thing in her mouth the night before, icing and all.
At first, she found Jared’s presence at her apartment awkward, but soon she realized he was exactly what she needed. He took care of her without her needing to ask. She hated herself even more now, and if she didn’t hurt so badly, she’d do terrible things to prove it. Cutting wasn’t the only thing she did, it was just her favorite. She’d hit herself with the back of her hairbrush, or she liked to ‘fall’ down the steps. The hairbrush was a consistent and easy method; the stairs satisfied her more. Today, she would do none of those things. Enough had been done to her, even by her own standards. She would spend the day crying.
