by Nicole Fox
I fumbled through my bag, pulled out my key and handed it to him. Then, I turned and locked all of the locks, just like he asked.
“Don’t forget that deadbolt,” he said. “I don’t want anyone interrupting us.”
Once I was done, I turned and looked straight forward, my arms stiff at my sides.
“Cory, what the hell are you doing?” I asked. “Do you have any idea what Russell wi—“”
“Shut up!” he said, raising his voice from the low rasp that he’d been speaking in. “I don’t want to hear that fucking name out of your mouth!”
I stopped cold, even more scared than I was before. The way he yelled at me made me think that he was capable of anything.
“Now,” he said, lowering his voice. “I want you to take a seat on the couch, right over there. Move nice and slow. No sudden movements.”
I took a deep breath, my eyes flicking over to the couch. I caught sight of the pregnancy test sitting on the coffee table, and something told me that this was something Cory shouldn’t see. As I moved, I positioned myself between Cory and the test, snatching it and slipping it into my pocket with a quick movement. Then I turned and took a seat. Cory moved directly across from me, his face still shrouded by the hoodie.
And now that I could see him straight on, I was able to make out what it was in his hand, the thing that he’d been pressing into my back.
It was a gun.
“Please, Cory,” I said, now fearing for my life. “I don’t know what you want, but don’t do anything drastic. Please.”
I was so fearful at that moment that I could hardly talk. All I could think about was the baby inside me and how much danger both it and I were in.
Cory shifted his weight from one leg to the other, saying nothing. Finally, he tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, raised his hands to his hood, and flipped it off.
I gasped when I laid eyes on what he revealed.
Cory had never been the better-looking of the two Carrick brothers, but now he was a shade of the man he had been before. His face was gaunt, his watery blue eyes seeming to bug out of their sockets. His skin seemed to be stretched tight on his face, and his complexion looked yellow and sickly. And I could see that one of his teeth was missing. He looked like hell.
“Cory …” I said. “What happened to you?”
“Been a rough six weeks,” he said, smirking. “Guess I partied a little too hard, you know? And forgot all about my skincare regimen.”
“You look really unwell,” I said, noticing that his clothes seemed to be hanging off of his frame.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m fine; fuckin’ fine.”
I didn’t have the experience with junkies that Russell seemed to have, but even I understood what had likely happened—Cory likely had done exactly what Russell had thought he was going to do, which was spend every last dollar he had on whatever drugs he was on, not caring a bit about the toll they’d take on his body. And now that he was likely out of money, he was strung-out, erratic, and ready to do anything to satisfy his addiction.
“Get up,” he said. “We’re going to the bedroom. And I don’t want to hear a fuckin’ peep out of you.”
I got up and started up the stairs. The night he’d made a move on me was playing over and over again in my mind like some kind of awful film. I was terrified that, along with taking anything of value he could out of the house, Cary had his sights on taking from me what he’d wanted that night.
“Now,” he said, gesturing to the bed with his gun. “Sit down. And don’t say a fuckin’ word.”
I did as he commanded, taking a seat on the bed. I watched as Cory shoved his gun back into the waistband of his pants and started rummaging through the bedroom. He went through everything: he pulled out drawers and dumped them out on the ground, rifled through the closet, and swept every surface clean.
“Nothin’,” he said. “Nothin’ worth taking.
He shook his head.
“For a fancy-fuckin’-pants rich asshole living uptown, my brother sure as shit doesn’t have much worth a damn, huh?” he said. “Come with me.”
He grabbed me by the wrist, leading me from room to room, ransacking the place for anything he could fit into the pillowcase that he’d brought stuffed into his pocket. When we reached the office, he breathed a sigh of relief as he laid eyes on the electronics. But he was right—Russell wasn’t a very materialistic man. He had this place and some nice furniture, but he really wasn’t the item-accumulating type. And all I could think about was how this might enrage Cory even further.
Eventually, we arrived back in the bedroom. He tossed me back onto the bed and began pacing nervously back and forth.
“Great,” he said. “Just fuckin’ great. A two-million-dollar townhome and I can find is a laptop and some Apple shit.”
Then he laid eyes on me.
“You,” he said. “You gotta have some jewelry or something. Come on; tell me where it is.”
“I … don’t have much,” I said. “But what I do have is in the box on my dresser.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and left the room. I knew that he’d only find a few things that I’d bought in LA, but I hoped it would be enough to calm him down.
Moments later, he returned.
“I know the fuckin’ business my brother is in; he’s gotta have some money stashed around here, and I bet you know exactly where it is.”
He pulled the gun out of his waistband and pointed it right at me. My heart began to beat faster than it had ever beaten before.
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me where the fuckin’ money is.”
“I don’t know!” I said, my voice shrill and scared. “Russell doesn’t tell me any of that stuff. I know he has guns at the other apartment, but that’s it! I swear!”
Cory held the gun inches away from my head for what seemed like an eternity. Then he put it away.
“Why …” I said. “Why are you doing this?”
Cory looked at me with eyes that blazed with anger.
“Why am I doing this?” he asked. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He began pacing the room back and forth, as if the mere question had sent him into a rage.
“Look at all this shit!” he shouted, gesturing to the room around us. “Look at this house; look at that fucking car Russ drives; look at all the shit that my brother has that I don’t!”
He stopped pacing and turned towards me.
“I’ve been busting my ass since I was a goddamn pre-teen street hustler; I was in the business while Russ had his face buried in books in high school. And when he was going to NYU, partying with fuckin’ co-eds, I was running a hard game on the fuckin’ streets. Then, one day, college boy decides after getting hired at some six-figure job downtown that he doesn’t feel like sittin’ in a fucking office and getting paid primo cash to move shit around in spreadsheets. He decides that he wants to come play my fuckin’ game.
“And you know what? I let him. Stupid fuckin’ me thought it’d make us closer or some shit; shows what the fuck I knew. So, I brought him on. I introduced him to the connections I’d busted my ass to make; I showed him the ropes; I taught him all he knows about guns. I thought we’d be partners, fifty-fifty, the Carrick brothers workin’ together to own this fucking town. But before I knew it, he decides that he’s bigger than me, starts doing deals without me, treating me like the fuckin’ help when he’s so goddamn kind as to let me join his deals.
“I didn’t think much of it at the time; I was still thinking we were partners, you know? But soon Russell starts making money hand over fist, socking it all away for God-knows-what. Then he tells me that he’s not gonna be working with me if I keep up my partying. So fuckin’ sue me for having a little fun every now and then. Isn’t that the whole goddamn reason we got in this game, to play by our own fuckin’ rules?”
“Then he starts coming down hard on me with this shit about getting my act together, how I can’t be messing and with drugs and wo
men and shit if I’m gonna be a ‘serious businessman,’ whatever the fuck that means. And then, for no other reason than the fact that I wanted the money that was mine, the money that I earned with my own two fucking hands, he decides to cut me out like I’m some sack of shit he couldn’t wait to be rid of.”
I didn’t know what to say to this. Cory was ranting like a maniac, and I could tell by the wild look in his sallow eyes that he was on something. I sat there still as could be, fearful that any wrong word might result in him flying even more off the handle and doing something with that gun of his.
“And you,” he continued, venom dripping from his voice. “Russ and I, we’re fuckin’ family; we’re supposed to stick together ‘till the end. And then you, some homeless piece of trash comes walking into his life, fluttering her eyelashes and waggling her ass in front of his face, and now he’s forgotten all about me. This is some serious fuckin’ bullshit. Well, the way I see it, we’re brothers, and if there’s something I need, then he’s gotta help me out with it. I mean, I’d do the same for him!”
Then his gaze turned darker, more lustful. He stared at me for several long minutes in a manner that made my skin crawl. He set his gun down on the dresser and approached me, my internal alarms going off with each step closer he took. Finally, he reached the bed and sat down next to me, far too close for my liking. But I was frozen with fear.
“And I haven’t forgotten about you,” he said, his voice low, his mouth close enough that I could smell the stale stench hanging off of his words. “Primo piece of pussy you are; almost can’t blame Russ for turning his back on me for you.”
Then he put his hand on my knee.
“Now,” he said, “I’m not gonna hurt you. But the way I see it, Russ and I being brothers and all, well, brothers share, right?”
“Please don’t do this,” I said.
“Do what?” he asked. “I just want a little something. Come on, you know what you are—you’re a whore we found living out of her fuckin’ car. And if it weren’t for me picking your ride to take, you wouldn’t even be here. So, maybe you could do something for me that’d show just how grateful you are.”
His hand began to slowly move up my leg. My mind raced as I tried to figure out something, anything to do that could get me out of this situation.
But before I could think of anything, Cory’s hand came to a stop. With horror, I realized that he was tracing the outline of the pregnancy test that I’d shoved into my pocket.
“Now, what the fuck is this?” he asked, slipping his fingers into my pocket. “I hope this isn’t something expensive you’ve been trying to hide from me. I’m not gonna be happy if that’s the case.”
He fished the test out and, realizing what it was, turned it right-side up and held it in front of his face. His face sank when he pieced together what the test had to say.
At first, his arms just fell to his side and he seemed more defeated than anything, as though the test had taken the last bit of life out of him. Then, after a moment or two, something seemed to build in Cory. It was as though he was a simmering volcano of rage that might blow at any moment. He reached back and, with a hard throw, launched the pregnancy test across the room. It hit the far wall where it shattered into pieces. Cory exploded out of his seat, grabbed the gun from the dresser, and looked at me with eyes so full of anger and hopelessness that he almost seemed inhuman.
“Great!” he said. “Just fuckin’ great. You got a goddamn baby on the way. Big brother Russ has got everything: shitloads of money, a fancy fuckin’ place, a girl, and now a kid. Picture of domestic bliss. You wanna know what I got? Nothing! Not a dollar to my name, and not even a goddamn place to live. And my brother’s got everything.”
Then he rushed towards me and grabbed me by the wrist.
“Well, at least I can have something,” he said, tears forming in my eyes from fear of his anger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna fuck you, then I’m gonna kill you. If I can’t have what Russ has, then the least I can do is destroy it. And I’m gonna start with you.”
He raised the gun to my head; I’d never been more fearful in my life. My body was racked with sobs and I felt as though I was having something like an out-of-body experience.
“Now,” said. “You’re gonna lie back and let me take what I want. And if you put up a fight, I’ll show you just how much of a motherfucker I can be.”
He then put his hand on my chest and shoved me back onto the bed. I hit the mattress hard, and I felt helpless to do anything. Cory moved on top of me, straddling me and pulling off his dingy white T-shirt. Once it was removed, he revealed a scrawny, sickly body covered with bruises and strange red welts.
“You just keep your goddamn mouth shut; you might even start to like it.”
But just when I thought that all hope was lost, a banging sounded from downstairs.
“Cory!” came the booming voice of Russell, the name called out as loud and clear as if Russell had been standing at the bedroom door.
To say I felt relief at that would be possibly the largest understatement imaginable. My heart pounded at the sound of Russell’s voice, and knowing he had arrived to save me brought life back into my body. I began to thrash and scream, pounding my little fists against Cory’s skinny chest.
Cory’s face turned to an expression of shock and fear combined. Next came the pounding of footsteps climbing up the stairs.
“Get the fuck off me!” I shouted, squirming and hitting Cory. “Get off me now!”
But before Cory could respond to my blows, or even to the realization that Russell had arrived, his brother appeared. Standing in the doorway, his legs spread and his arms curved at his sides, an expression of pure rage on his face, was Russell.
“Cory, you miserable little fucker,” he said, his eyes burning with rage.
“No, Russ, it’s not that, I j—“”
But before he could finish whatever miserable excuse he’d had in mind, Russell exploded from where he stood, covering the distance between him and Cory with lightning speed. He grabbed Cory by the wrist, yanked him from where he sat on top of me, and tossed him across the room. He flew through the air like he weighed nothing and collided with the wall, the paint and cracking with his impact. A yelp of pain sounded out as he hit.
Russell now loomed over me, scanning my body with alert eyes to see if I’d been hurt.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice intense.
“Yeah,” I said. “He didn’t have time to …”
Russell nodded, cutting me off and not letting me hear the words, as hearing me say exactly what Cory had in mind would’ve just been too much for him to bear.
Then, he turned his attention to Cory, who was struggling to his feet. Russell rushed over to him, grabbing him by his skinny bicep and yanking him to his feet. A trickle of blood dripped from Cory’s nose, and he had a dazed look on his face.
“This is it, Cory,” shouted Russell. “This is fucking it!”
He dragged Cory across the room, Cory’s feet struggling to keep up.
But as Russell dragged Cory, a flash of awareness appeared on Cory’s face; he laid eyes on the gun sitting on the dresser, and with speed that I ’hadn’t known he was still capable of, snatched it off.
“Russell, watch out!” I shouted.
But I was too late. Cory brought the gun upwards in a swift motion, connecting with Russell’s head.
“Fuck!” shouted Russell, the impact forcing him to let go of Cory and stumble backward.
My eyes shot to Russell, who now had a bleeding wound on the side of his head from the gun. Cory raised the pistol at Russell, then at me, then back at Russell. His eyes were wide with panic and the gun shook in his hand. Russell’s posture quickly turned from an aggressive to one of attempted calm. He held out his palms in front of him.
“Cory,” said Russell, his voice now low and stern. “Put that thing down. You’ve already fucked up, but there’s no reason to make it worse.”
&nbs
p; “Russ, you don’t fuckin’ get it!” shouted Cory. “It can’t get any fuckin’ worse! I had one shot to even the goddamn score, to make you know just how much shit you’ve put me through, and I couldn’t even do that right.”
I could barely think straight, but it still managed to strike me as disgusting that even now Cory was still feeling sorry for himself.
“Just put the gun down,” said Russell. “I won’t hurt you. Just put that thing down and we can talk about this.”
Cory looked down and swayed his head back and forth.
“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” said Cory. “Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”
“Brother,” said Russell. “I’m willing to look past a little B-and-E. I don’t know what you had in mind, but we can talk about it. But if you pull that trigger you’re gonna cross a line that you won’t be able to walk back over.”
