There Is No Happy Ending

Chapter Two

Claire weaved her way through alleys and side streets. I struggled to keep up; ducking under fences scraped my knees, and I bashed my head against a hanging plank as she led me farther from the city and its immense towers. We ended up outside a small brick house with a chainlink fence that was dwarfed by the neighboring apartments, themselves shrunken against the skyscrapers of the city skyline.

In front of the house, a window was duct-taped over, smashed in too many times, and left unrepaired. Beer bottles littered the blood-stained front steps, a reminder of the night Claire's father, Pierre LaBlanc, met his demise.

It felt frozen, untouched. Claire stood at the maroon door, motioning for me to follow. I stayed waiting by the metal gate, examining the house: the snoring bulldog on the porch by Claire's feet, the quietness of everything, the smell of home.

Claire brought a finger to her lips as she fiddled around her skirt pockets for the housekey. A sleepy groan came from below. I crouched down to pet the dog, who happily stretched against my hands. I ran my fingers against the nametag on its collar that read: Gogo. Lame. Gogo snorted and yawned, unfazed. I wished I could be as unbothered as this dog was.

"Alright, come on," Claire murmured, carefully looking into the living room while I hung my jacket on a small coat rack. Claire flicked off her shoes and swiftly crept up the carpeted stairs. I took it in. The inside matched the outside of the house perfectly, broken— but familiar. The shelves were filled with a collection of books about funguses, medicines, and elements. Jeez, Was Pierre a naturopath? My attention shifted to the smaller details, the peeling wallpaper, the half-dressed woman sleeping on the couch, the litter of newspapers, and the— hold up.

On the sunken in leather green couch lay a napping lady in a loose tank top and lace underwear, her peachy curls draped gracefully on the arm of the seat. She was almost angelic, bathed in the soft glow filtering through the window. But looking closer she seemed dead, not dead, dead— but dead as in just nothing left. She was hollowed out and ghostly like Claire was.

"That's my mom," a whisper came from the steps. Claire stared out from behind the railing, "I hate her." She lied.

I covered her up with a fuzzy grey blanket that was tossed in the corner of the room and met Claire at the base of the steps. She handed me a couple crumbled dollars and a handful of change then nabbed the arm of my coat pulling me back towards the door.

"Okay go back to wherever you came from" She said motioning at the door, "Shoo"

I put the money down on a small table by the door, next to a side table, my brows furrowing. "Just..." I started, feeling a bit taken aback by her abruptness,"Just call me if you need anything" I placed a small card with my number on it next to the money

Claire offered me a small, tired smile. "I will. Thanks again, Anthony." she said. Giving her arm a reassuring squeeze I reluctantly made my way to the door. As I stepped outside, I glanced back at Claire, watching her disappear into the depths of the house. It was clear that there was more going on than she was letting on.

With a light sigh, I pulled the door closed behind me, the sound echoing in the quiet street. As if on cue, a sleek gray Lexus turned the corner, gliding to a stop in front of the house. The tinted window rolled down with a soft hum, revealing the silhouette of a man inside. His hands, adorned with chunky gold rings, reached across to open the door

"I thought you'd get lost." I chuckled at the driver .He glanced at me, a smirk playing on his lips, and shook his head, his hand absently scratching his buzzed head.

"Ant, man, I used to live a block away from here" Sergi grinned, revealing his missing canine tooth. I grabbed the car door, leaning in, the thick smell of menthol cigarettes powered over the dinky air freshener dangling from his rear-view mirror. This would be what one might expect in a typical smoker's car, but then again, Sergi was anything but typical, if he had it his way, the car would stink of rot and be filled with fast food wrappers and mud.

"You cleaned up." I motioned to the floor of the car,

Sergi chuckled as he glanced around the interior of his car. "Yeah, had to make it presentable for the lady I'm picking up later. Can't have her thinking I'm living in a dumpster, right?"

I laughed, shaking my head at Sergi's antics. "Yeah, gotta keep up appearances," I replied, eyeing Claire's house again. I saw shuffling from the window.

Sergi leaned back in his seat, his expression shifting from playful to more serious. "So, how'd it go in there? Did you get everything?"

I hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much to share with Sergi, some things were better left unsaid. "It was... interesting," I finally replied, choosing my words carefully. "The girl is going though a lot right now, Her mom's not doing too well, and I think she's been holding everything together for a while"

Crasssh!

I ducked as a mix of green and clear glass shattered across the lawn, what the fuck? Sergi jumped out of the car and cocked the gun hidden beneath his olive puffer jacket, he followed me lead. Crunching carefully through the lawn up to the door, I motioned for Sergi to stay behind me. They couldn't be here already, right? I pushed open the front door hears the shouts and screams from in, letting Sergi pass infront of me to look inside first

"Yo uh–" He crept in more, "Claire? You okay?" We both went toward the noise in the kitchen, I realized the previously occupied couch was bare, and Miss LaBlanc was missing. More thumps and crashes rung out. I watched as Claire's mother took a handful of her daughters Golden curls and ran her across the floor

"I hate you, selfish little brat! I've given you everything, everything! You shouldn't exist! You gonna cry, mousey? Huh, cry, mouse!"The slurred insults and threats continued as she threw Claire against the screendoor

I couldn't stand by and watch any longer. "Put her down!" I yelled, grabbing the womans hand and pushing her off of her daughter. Sergi joined me, trying to calm the woman down, but nothing seemed to work against her drunken rage.

I scooped Claire up into my arms and carried her out to the steps, away from the chaos inside. "She didn't mean to! She's just tired, please! It's my fault, it's my fault, okay?" Claire pleaded, her voice trembling.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," I breathed, "Sergi, let's go!" called out, and moments later, he came rushing out, concealing his gun as he hurried to unlock the car.

"Is the kid coming?" He asked, his voice urgent

"Claire, you're not safe here," I said gently, urging her to come with us. She shook her head, her eyes filled with tears. "Not just from her," I added, nodding toward the house.

Claire's mother slammed open the front door, she flipped us off, well– she flipped Claire off, "Fuuhh–cck you, Mousey!" She screeched, taking a big swig of her fresh beer before disappearing into the house once more.