Midnight Toxicity

8.

There's a new dent on the wall.

The shape reminded me of a tangerine, and my scattered brain latched onto how Ian's citrus scent lingered on my dress long after I dropped it into the laundry basket Friday night.

Derry stood over me in the hallway outside my bedroom, breathing hard as he lorded over my prone position on the floor. "Want to try that again?" he hissed, folding the paperwork Andy Golding gave me until it fit inside his back pocket. "You'll sign these and do as you are told. Those punks can't protect you any longer."

I licked my bottom lip, teasing the cut there with my tongue. "What?"

A scream caught in my throat when he snatched a handful of my hair, pulling until I climbed to my feet. He had a few inches on me, but his bulk always won.

I punched his ugly face, my knuckles landing a solid blow, but he slammed me against his and my mother's closed bedroom door over and over until the fight left my broken frame.

"Did you think you could scam your way through the city, and no one would notice? Without consequences? There are rules, Charlize. You are no longer a child. The sooner you get your head out of your ass, your chances of survival will increase." He sighed, running a hand over his sweaty brow while I blinked away the blood dripping down my face. "Shoot. That's a nasty gash."

No shit.

Five minutes ago, I had finished showering and dressing, texting Gina about giving me a lift to school when Derry burst inside my room declaring he spoke to the administration, and they agreed I had enough credits to graduate early. I wasn't okay with that. Not by a long shot. So, he slapped me around, and when we ended up fighting in the living room; I turned to bolt, and that's when he cracked an empty beer bottle over my skull.

He could have killed you, Char.

Crimson gushed down the front of my crop-top, and I cackled, "Head wounds are a bitch, am I right?"

"You're crazy!" he snarled, retreating to his recliner. "Just like your mother."

Perhaps, but at least she wasn't here to see me pick up a jagged piece of glass and growl, "Touch me again. I dare you!"

He snorted at my threat. "Golding is offering you a fresh start. A way out of here. Don't be stupid. Schools out, bitch. Also, you have a doctor's appointment at four this afternoon. I'll send you the address."

Golding mentioned a health exam, but I was so over this crap. On Mondays and Thursdays, Gina and I took an art class after school. It wasn't exactly a proper workshop, since the old lady ran the program out of her house for forty bucks a session, but she provided anyone who showed with canvases and paint. We came across her flier a few years back, and it became a haven a few times a week. I may be colorblind, but I loved drawing and Gina enjoyed our girl time away from Jack.

"What the hell does he want from me?" I whined, tossing the shard on the carpet. My head throbbed in sync with my heartbeat. "Why can't I read the contract?"

"He's hiring you as a housekeeper, and I've arranged a bank account for your checks," his smile was too smug and disgusting to keep glaring daggers at, so I searched for something to stanch the crimson leaking from my wounds, "It's simple. Do what you're told."

Well, when he put it like that. "Fuck you, Derry."

He clenched his fist. "Clean yourself up. Then fix this mess."

"Not this time, dickhead!"

I dipped into the bathroom, hopping onto the counter to hold a towel on my head, determined to leave evidence of his abuse in the hall for my mom to discover. Usually, I tidied up because if I didn't, there would be no room to walk. They were both hoarders and lazy.