In Constant Sorrow

Chapter One: Mama

"You just think you know everything about life Abilene, well you don't." Mama slammed the door and sped down the front steps of the house.

"You don't get to slam doors in a house you don't even pay for," Abilene chased after her mother. "You don't get to saunter into this house and tell me shit about anything when you're so fucking spun out you forgot Granny's birthday and thanksgiving."

Caroline turned to face her daughter, disgust and anger stretched across her face.

"I've been sober for two months and you can't even congratulate me on that," she spit.

"Your pupils are so pinned I can't even see them, you're so full of shit."

Caroline chucked her phone as hard as she could at Abeline's face, cracking her in the cheek. Abilene clutched her face in shock. Both women looked surprised.

"You come up to this house again I'll kill you," Abilene turned to go back to the house.

"Abby- honey please, I'm sorry," her mother called to her.

Abilene slammed the door behind her and the old house shook with the force. She listened as her mother's beat up car started up and sputtered away. She shook with rage, trying to collect herself. Weighing her options, call the law, pay a visit to her mother's drug dealer, do both?

She dug through the cupboard under the sink searching for the mason jar of moonshine that was kept there. She unscrewed the lid and took a deep sigh and small gulp. Slammed the jar back down and coughed as the alcohol burned through her chest and warmed her cheeks.

Fuck

She wouldn't call the police but she would go up to Katie's Motel and confront the local drug dealer.

Darkness creeps up quick in late november. The black of night always seemed darker and more oppressive in winter. The chilled air bit at her skin as she walked to the truck. She took her time driving up to Katie's, taking the winding back roads up to the old motel.

The dealer usually took one of the front rooms that overlooked the parking lot and highway, a good viewpoint to keep an eye out for cops and Abilene. Her truck was unmistakable, a rusted to hell 1970 F-100 that sounded like it was coming out of the pits of hell. He'd hear it.

Katie's son, Charlie was out in the parking lot sweeping up when she pulled in, a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Abilene, your mama's not here."

"I'm not lookin for Mama," she snapped, shortening the gap between her truck and the stairs.

"Hoschton ain't dealin no more- some new guy, real scary lookin."

She looked at him hard, eyes sharp.

"Face tattoos, got a little group of weirdos with him."

"Where's Hoschton?"

Charlie shrugged, "Dead, they found his body in the lake up at Creek's holler about a month ago."

"What...?"

"Ain't found no head, had to identify him from his tattoos. I know yer mad 'bout yer mama but this ain't some backwoods part time dealer. These city men."

She paused but remembered getting hit in the face earlier today with a tracphone.

"I'm gonna call the law if you ain't back down here in tweny'," he drawled.

"What room."

"G-59."

He went back to sweeping.

She was up the stairs and whipped her way around the corner, she saw the small group of men in the back corner with music bumping out of the room. Marijuana smoke was thick in the air. She moved quickly, swallowing her fear, walking up to the group.