Shallow River

by H. D. Carlton

  “Is that what he told you? That I hate him?”

  I slash a hand through the air, cutting off anything else he has to say. “I’m done talking to you. Leave me alone, Mako. Or I’ll tell Ryan you’re following me,” I threaten.

  He laughs. Actually fucking laughs.

  “I wouldn’t mind if you did,” he says around a grin. His face lights up with a cold and merciless amusement at the threat. It makes me feel cold.

  I walk away. There’s no point in responding. He got the message loud and fucking clear.

  “I SEE YOU’RE STILL a piece of shit,” I observe dryly.

  Barbie snarls from before me, her greasy black hair hanging in stringy clumps. She smells fucking horrid. Like a shit stain and expired milk.

  “Fuck off, River.”

  “Do you have rent?” I ask in place of a smart response.

  Be superior, River. Though I could walk in with five-day old clothes and without a shower for even longer, and I’d still accomplish that small feat.

  She reaches into the pocket of her stained, hole-riddled sweatpants and angrily slaps crumpled dirty bills on the table. Her palm catches a syringe. It pops up, twirls in the air and topples back on the table. The tinkling lets me know it rolled off the table and onto the floor. She doesn’t bother picking it up.

  And that’s why I’ll never walk through this house barefoot.

  Or touch that fucking table.

  Good thing I came prepared. I pull a rubber glove out of my pocket, stretch it on and pick up the bills. I drop them in a plastic Ziploc baggie.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Quit acting like this isn’t where you come from, you pretentious bitch,” she spits. Her eyes are dilated, and she can’t stop clenching her jaw. I’m not even insulted. How can I be when she’s where she is, and I’m where I am?

  Her words haven’t hurt me in a very long time.

  “How I haven’t contracted an STD is beyond me, and I’m not about to test that luck.”

  I don’t bother counting the bills. They’ll all be there. They always are when I make my threats. She goes off to find a way out, no one will take her, and she comes scurrying back to the house with a pocket full of dirty money.

  The front door thumps loudly against the wall. Someone just walked in like they own the house.

  And there’s only one person who would dare.

  Billy.

  Barbie and I both freeze in place, and for a brief moment, we share a connection of mutual terror. Barbie visibly gulps, and I try my best to relax my shoulders.

  If Billy decides he wants more from me, I won’t be able to hide his marks. Ryan will never forgive me. He’ll leave me in a heartbeat if he saw another man’s bruises on my body. And he’ll probably create more if he finds out another man has been inside my body.

  Shit.

  My bones rattle and a cold sweat bloom across the back of my neck when Billy enters the kitchen. Barbie turns to greet him, a fake smile plastered on her decrepit face.

  He’s impeccably dressed, as usual. Slick graying blonde hair, sharp hazel eyes and a strong jaw. He used to be handsome in his younger years. Back then, he was a young gang member, born and raised in the slums, dressed like Barbie, but had women falling at his feet. Until he had a run-in with a thug, and they cut his face up.

  Those scars crisscrossing his nose, eyes and mouth make him look utterly terrifying. And the dark, blank look in his eyes certainly doesn’t help matters. Billy’s the type of man you see on the streets and instantly turn to walk the opposite direction. He’s incredibly intimidating, with a permanent psychotic gleam in his eyes that warn any passerby that he’d wrap his massive hands around your skull and crush it until it pops. And enjoy it too.

  Now he runs a drug empire and is filthy rich. The cash in his wallet drips with blood and tears from all the people he killed to obtain it.

  “Well, hey, suga,” Barbie sings—rather loudly might I add. Her nervous energy is palpable. Any minute now, she’s going to have a bad trip and there’s not one cell in my body that feels bad for her. “I didn’t know you were stoppin’ by today.”

  “Since when am I required to announce my arrival?” he inquires, his voice devoid of emotion. I’ve seen Billy in all kinds of different states of emotion, but I’ve known him my entire life, been around him more than my nightmares are capable of keeping up with. It takes a lot to make him stray from his calm and eerily quiet state.

  I swallow thickly and meet his frightening eyes. The dark pools found mine from the moment he stepped in the kitchen. They haven’t strayed once.

  She laughs, another nervous sound. “You’re right.”

  Silence. Filled with his expectations and dark promises.

  “Hey, Billy,” I greet finally, my own voice softer than I’d like. It shames me that he still has this effect on me. I’d love nothing more than to tell him to go fuck himself and let him know he doesn’t scare me. But my soul is also very attached to its vessel.

  He slowly walks over to me, his polished heels clicking on the filthy floor. The contrast between the two almost doesn’t compute in my brain. The image looks tremendously off. Such nice shoes shouldn’t be walking on a floor so disgusting.

  I’m focusing on his shoes so I don’t have to think about why he’s walking towards me. I’m thinking about how there’s guck caked in the cracks of the tiles, instead of how he’s stopped in front of me and waiting for me to lift my eyes.

  I’m thinking about how I’m about to lose my relationship tonight, and maybe even my life.

  He lifts his hands towards me and it takes everything in me not to flinch away. Slowly, his finger catches my chin, causing shivers to run down my spine. Barbie shifts in my peripheral, nervous. That makes me nervous.

  My chin rises. Our eyes meet. Anger’s infused in his eyes. My breath escapes me.

  “You’re a ghost,” he says softly.

  My mouth dries, and I fight to swallow.

  “You were born and raised here. You were one of us, once upon a time. And now you act like you’re too good for us.” Despite my best efforts, my lip trembles. God, does it tremble.

  His fingers tighten around my jaw, and all I can do is whisper pleadingly, “Billy…”

  “Ghost,” he whispers.

  My face slams into the table before I can brace myself.

  Pain explodes in the side of my head. The only silver-lining is my face was turned enough that it didn’t break my nose.

  So much for not touching the fucking table.

  Keeping my head pinned to the table, he leans in closer. The unforgiving surface has my eyes widening with unconcealed pain. Tears prick my eyes and threaten to leak. I don’t want to show weakness. I don’t want to, but Billy has a special way of drawing it out of you anyway.

  Barbie backs up a few steps, unease etched in her wrinkles.

  “Where have you been?” he whispers, his tone deceptively calm. There’s a torch lit inside his bloodstream. Billy’s pissed.

  Anger bursts inside of me. I’ve gotten out of this goddamn hellhole. Why the fuck do I come back? Why did I buy this stupid ass house, and why do I continue to hold it over my mother? For revenge? I was lying to Mako and myself when I said that.

  Shallow Hill is ingrained in my bones, and bones won’t survive without the marrow.

  “Hell is not a home, Billy,” I grit out. “It’s only a place I come to visit.”

  “It is home,” he barks, his voice echoing as the reins on his temper start to slip. “You’re stained, River. This place is a stain on our soul, and it won’t ever come out.”

  I’m breathing heavily now. Partly from fear, partly from anger. It’s not smart to talk back to Billy.

  “Did you try?” I challenge, squeezing my eyes shut in pain when he presses my head down further. So badly, I want to cry out. I’m toppling on the precipice of letting go of my pride and dignity.

  I don’t want to show weakness. I don’t want to.

  “Yes,” he murmu
rs thoughtfully. “And then I realized I was only lying to myself. The joke of a life I attempted to live was a façade. Just like yours.”

  Finally, god, finally, he releases me. I scramble away from the table as fast as I can, tipping my chair over in the process, dignity be damned. The chair clatters to the tile obnoxiously, the loud sound mimicking the sound of mine and Barbie’s fear.

  Barbie’s tripping. Literally. She’s high off Lord knows what, and the fear is messing with her high. Wide, dilated pupils jump between Billy and me. Her breathing is heavy, and her hands tremble. Pretty soon she’ll start clawing at her own skin, desperate to get out of her own body. The fear is a potent and inescapable.

  I don’t assume it’s for my benefit. She’s only scared he’ll turn his anger on her when he’s done with me.

  And he will.

  He absolutely will.

  Eight

  river

  I CAN’T GO HOME like this. To emphasize my point, Ryan’s name flashes across my cracked phone screen. The tiny fissures run through his name with a heart emoji on the end.

  It’s symbolic, and I want to throw the fucking phone.

  I press the volume button on the side of my phone. Instantly, the shrill sound silences. He’ll call again. I silence the phone completely so I don’t have to listen to the doom of my relationship anymore.

  I’m soiled again. Tainted. Dirty. Stained.

  Billy let me know just how much he missed me right in front of Barbie. She watched on with fear and resignation in her eyes. Again, not for my sake, but her own. Thank fuck he used a condom. Billy doesn’t want mini’s running around, that’s for sure.

  After beating me black and blue, he turned to Barbie and made love to her. Laid her down on the kitchen floor and took her softly. It was a warning.

  Be a good little Shallow Hill bitch, and you won’t get brutally raped and beaten. You’ll just get softly raped. In Billy’s head, that’s the better option.

  With the way I feel, I’m thinking so, too.

  We both knew Barbie would get it later. Billy was only giving her the illusion of safety. Barbie was smart enough to know that, though. Not for one second did she relax, though she pretended she was enjoying Billy’s dick inside of her regardless. If you snub Billy like that, he’ll snatch away that rare moment of tenderness and beat you till you need life support. I’d had already heard yelps of pain as I drug myself out of the house and into my car.

  I paid her the same courtesy she paid me and drove the fuck off.

  Or rather, swerved the fuck off. I definitely have a concussion, and everything feels broken. He broke my pinky when he slammed my hands in the freezer door and held it there as he took me from behind, that I’m sure of.

  But it’s hard to catalog your injuries when everything feels broken.

  Somehow, I make it out of Shallow Hill but I’m still a good ten minutes from home.

  A home you can’t go to, River. What a depressing reminder that is.

  All because I can’t just fucking stay away. It’s my own fault.

  It’s my fault I was in that house. It’s my fault I was there when Billy showed up. It’s my fault he beat the shit out of me, and then raped me, too.

  I put myself in that situation, so it’s my own fucking fault.

  Fuck.

  Sloppily, I wipe away the blood from my lip. For the final time, I swerve across the road. At this point, I’m an absolute menace to society. I’m basically driving drunk right now, and I could really hurt somebody.

  I know misery loves company, but I’ve always been pretty intimate with the lonely life.

  I pull the car over in a quaint neighborhood. Middle class. Nice homes with treated yards, but nothing over the top and excessive. The type of neighborhood that’s safe to park on the side of road on and not have to worry about getting mugged.

  I would love to live in a house like these. Ryan’s house definitely falls in the ‘over the top’ category. But I grew up on nothing, so I don’t mind the simple things.

  You put no value in something, you have nothing to hold onto. You put too much value in it, and you have everything to lose. I’ve already made that mistake because right now, it feels like I’ve lost everything.

  A LOUD KNOCK JERKS me awake. Big mistake.

  “Motherfuu… what the fuck?” I curse.

  Pain. So much pain. I’m forced to swallow down the cry, otherwise it won’t ever stop. My bones feel broken, my lungs crushed, and my head splitting. Another more urgent knock sounds again next to my head.

  If I was capable of lifting my arms, I’d clutch my head from the sound resounding in my skull. Pretty sure there’s a jackhammer jackhammering my head or… something like that. I groan and flop my head over to look out the driver’s window. All I can see is the blurry image of a dark figure crouched over, looking through the glass with their hands cupped around their eyes. It’d be scary if I wasn’t so scatter-brained.

  I passed out. Not good. Especially when I have a concussion. A tugging noise follows the knocking.

  Great. Now someone is trying to break into my car. While I’m in it, no less. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. Oh yeah, that deceptively cute neighborhood. I guess I did have to worry about mugging after all. Maybe I’ll just let ‘em. Best case scenario, they’ll kill me. Worst case, they’ll drive off with my car and leave me to die slowly.

  A muffled voice follows next. It sounds like—is the person saying my name?

  “River!”

  Yup, that was my name. And they’re shouting it. I’ve gone delusional.

  Fuck it. I unlock the door. If I die, they’d be doing me a favor. A huge fucking favor.

  The door flies open and gentle hands clutch my shoulders. I groan, uselessly attempting to raise my hands to get their hands off me. It’s futile.

  “River, what the fuck happened?”

  That voice. Ugh, not again.

  “Go away,” I groan. Another hopeless attempt.

  My seatbelt unbuckles and slides across my chest. Mako has to work to get my arm out of the strap. The clanging of the metal hitting the side of the car hurts. Gently, he sits me up and I’m airborne. Only a second later, I’m cocooned in warm arms. Warm, warm arms.

  I’m conscious enough to know I shouldn’t nestle deeper into said arms, but I do anyway. I’ll find time to regret it later when I’m not on the brink of death.

  I’M NO LONGER IN warm arms, but a hospital bed. Ryan and his parents sit on one side of me. Mako on the other. I woke up only a minute ago to bright light and solemn faces staring at me. The moment I saw Julie and Matt’s watching me with concern pinched into their faces, I nearly jumped out of the bed and ran. And Mako being here just makes me want to vomit. Why couldn’t he have just left? Another thing Ryan won’t like—Mako finding me. It’ll look like I sought him out somehow.

  The tension in the room is enough to finish the job and kill me via suffocation.

  “What happened?” I groan. My throat is incredibly dry. It burns to speak, let alone breathe.

  “You were attacked,” Ryan answers, his hand covering mine. His touch feels cold, but his voice is warm and concerned.

  Attacked? It takes a few seconds, but the events of… last night? —whenever it was—comes rushing back in full force.

  Billy. I was in Shallow Hill collecting rent from Barbie and he showed up. It’s been awhile since Billy has beat me to this degree. I can’t say I’ve never been in this predicament before, but back then, my hospital bed was my twin sized bed at home. My nurse was… well, myself.

  The aches and pains are familiar, but fuck, it’s still a shock to the system.

  Turning my head, I look into Ryan’s eyes, tightened in the corners with distress. Hidden beneath is a darkness swirling in his dull blue pools.

  I’ve no idea if it’s for me, or Billy.

  “Oh, honey, how are you feeling? I’m calling the nurse,” Julie says. She stands and pushes the red button to call the nurse. I weakly
signal towards the water. Julie rushes towards it before Ryan can get to it.

  Not that he attempted to try, anyway.

  She holds up a straw to my busted lip, and orders me to drink slowly. It burns something fierce at first, but after a few swallows, it eases until the cool water is a balm to my throat.

  The nurse shows up a few minutes later. I’m asked a bombardment of questions that I barely have the energy to answer. Her voice is overly sweet and grating on my last nerve. I try to be civil—she has to deal with enough shitty people in a day. The nurse is in the middle of checking my vitals when the doctor shows up.

  He’s younger, only his thirties or so, with spiked hair and a killer smile. Even has a dimpled chin. He’s handsome. I’m not sure why that’s the first thing I latch onto.

  Maybe because I don’t want to hear what he has to say.

  “Hello, River. My name is Dr. Forrestt,” he says, smiling at me softly. He’s got really pretty blue eyes. Prettier than Ryan’s.

  “I went over your chart, and the good news is that you’ll recover. You suffered a pretty severe concussion, along with two cracked ribs and a broken pinky. Other than that, you’re severely bruised. No internal bleeding, and no other broken bones. I want to keep you another night or two to monitor your concussion, then you should be free to go home.”

  I give him a weak thumbs up, not really caring what the damage is. They’re injuries I’ve suffered before. Probably won’t be the last time either.

  He gives me a serious look. “River, due to the state we found your clothes in and the abrasions to your body, I have to ask. Would you like us to perform a rape kit?”

  The blood drains from my face. “No,” I whisper.

  “Why the hell not?” Ryan snaps from beside me, looking at me as if I have three heads.

  “Because she said no,” Mako intervenes, glaring at Ryan with heat. I don’t like Mako sticking up for me—it makes my insides feel weird and only pisses Ryan off more.

  The doctor nods his head anyway, not pushing the matter, while Ryan splits his glare between Mako and myself. There’s accusation in his eyes, assumptions forming in his head at rapid speed. I’m sure he thinks I cheated with Mako somehow. Maybe he even thinks Mako is the one that did this to me. Mako finding me was pure, unlucky coincidence. I would have preferred the devil find me himself.