Memphis Streets 3: Revenge

Chapter 50- Momma Peaches

I'm not going to die in this room, goddamn it. I keep saying this shit, but my doubt is growing stronger every day.

There have been times that I was on the brink of begging Alice to put a bullet through my brain. I've lost count of how many nights I've suffered beatings at her hand, but even that hasn't defeated me. I've tried to think of some shit to get me out of here, but I keep falling flat.

I always knew that my sister never forgave me for what happened to her, but I never thought the girl would do no shit like this. I've been locked down many times in my life, but this beats all I've ever seen. Currently, I'm on the third day of my hunger strike and my mind is getting a little clearer, but the pain in my belly remains strong.

I am drifting to sleep when I hear the sound of an engine. A few seconds later, tires crunch over gravel. Where is she going? Peeling my swollen eyes open, I'm able to make out that it's nighttime.The moonlight has managed to filter through the dirty, barred window. I grab my splintered prosthetic leg. It doesn't fit like it's supposed to, but it still does the job in getting me over to the window so I can look out. I make out the red taillights as the van pulls away from the house.

Alice rarely leaves the house, and this is the first time she ever left at night. Frustrated, I grip two of the bars and shake them. To my surprise, one of them snaps off into my hand. I'm so stunned, that I'm stuck staring at it like it's a foreign object. Finally I look at the ends and see the tips rusted through. Once the shock is over, I'm filled with a sudden hope and excitement.

I pull and tug on the other bars and manage to get two more to snap off. But all that shit dies when I then try to open the window. It's painted shut and refuses to budge. "Please, Lord. Please." I shove my entire weight up on the wooden pane and then howl in pain when my hand slips.

I pull back and see three large splinters in the palm of my hand. "Fuck!" I snatch them out of my hand and then glance down at my shackled foot. What the hell am I thinking? I'm not going to be able to get out through the window anyway.

Hit by another wave of hopelessness, I drop to the floor and rest my head against my knee. I'm not going to die in this room. I can't. I cringe when another painful cramp hits me. I hold my breath until it passes. When it does, I'm dizzy as hell and wonder whether I have the strength to climb back into bed. Lifting my head, I stare at the twin-size bed.

The longer I do, the more it looks like a coffin. "God, if you're up there, I swear I'll change my ways if you could do some kind of miracle. I'll go to church. I'll stop smoking weed. I'll even leave all them hot boys alone. Please, just . . . help an old woman out." I wait, hoping for some kind of sign to let me know that the Big Man is listening.

I hold fast for about twenty minutes. Give up. Alice is never going to let you out of here alive. That shit floats around my head for a bit while I keep staring at the bed—then it dawns on me that I'm actually staring at the wire bedsprings. Wire.

"Shit." I struggle to get off the floor. When I do, I rush to the bed and flip the mattress up to stare at all the coil springs. "God is good."

I get busy pulling and untwisting one of the springs. It's hard and it takes some time, but I'm finally able to break off a piece to use on the metal bracelet around my good leg. I haven't seen a lock yet that I can't pick and less than a minute later, this one is no different. I smile for the first time in months as I wobble toward to the door.

Once I hear the lock disengage, I still hold my breath while I pull it open. Despite my hearing Alice leave, I still creep through the dark basement worried that she'll jump out of a corner at any second. I feel my way around until I trip over the bottom staircase. "Keep it together, old girl. You're going to get out of here." It's the first time I believe it.