Beauty and the Beasts

Chapter One- Escape

“I’ll kill you, you stupid whore!”

I quickly covered my face as shards of glass flew from the impact of the current beer bottle with the unsuspecting wall by my head. I thought about how beautiful it all would be in slow motion… I could picture the moss green glass turning and shooting in different trajectories, slowly floating through the air, creating a miniature masterpiece of organized chaos.

“Say something, bitch,” the she-beast snarled between clenched teeth.

I uncovered my face and sat there, right in that wooden chair that has supported me longer than any one person in my life. I kept my composure. I’ve played this game too many times to let her win.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the murky yellow liquid slowly run down the peeling wall paper, pooling gracefully on the floor. I felt a warm, tingling sensation as I watched ruby red drops of blood trickle down my hand, and off the tips of my fingers. I didn't even wince as I pulled a fragment of green glass from red stained skin. I couldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me in pain, not this time.

“I want you out of my house," she snapped. She looked more like an animal than an actual person with every passing day.

She stopped to think, but then again, how much actual thinking happened in the hollow space between her ears? "I mean it this time,” she farced getting calm, and coming up with a novel idea that would solve her of all her burdens.

“I wish,” I whispered.

“What’d you say, whore?!” Her face scrunched into that god awful look she wore so much. She knew I said something, but I knew she was too drunk to understand. “Look, smart-ass. Get your shit…and get out.”

I got up more slowly than she wanted. She wanted me to throw a fit, come begging back to her, washing her feet with my tears. Kiss my ass, mommy dearest.

I walked up the uneven stairs, making sure I skipped over the fifth from the top; in case it decided today was the day to give way completely, and introduce me to the cellar below on my back.

It took me but minuets to pack my stuff in the all too familiar military duffel bag. I’d been through this charade more times than I had patience to sit down and count. But this time was different, I smiled thinking about how I’d more than just win this time…this is check fucking mate.

I lifted up my floorboards and grabbed the tin school lunch box, running my fingers over the fading embedded Buzz Light Year.

The staircase always gave away when someone was coming up the stairs, it was like a personal alarm system with its rotting wood and rusty nails. I stuffed the lunch box in the duffel and got up. Show time.

“Honey,” her head was hung low and she was walking purposely too slow. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?” Tears streamed down her eyes, creating black streaks slicing her cheeks. It looked as if she was leaking demons and evil, and that’s exactly what it was.

“Sure, moma,” I shrugged, loving this way too much.

“Really?” She stood more upright, surprised at how fast I caved. Usually, I’d at least make it to the door before turning around and unpacking my stuff,  then cook something for dinner.  Her act was fading slightly and she looked pleased with herself, no longer having to counterfeit being apologetic.

I smiled, honestly, truly smiled. I wanted to skip with joy and pick a flower I was so damn giddy, but I held my composure.

“Naw. Fuck you.” The words were crisp and were carried on a waft off release. I walked past the shocked, sorry excuse for a women (let alone a mother) and walked confidently out of that god forsaken house.

“Honey, I need you!” I heard screaming from the growing distant doorway. “Jaxsion! Get your ass back here! Jaxsion!” She was making a scene now, one last attempt.

I hoped she cried, honest, real tears for once in her life. I hoped she hated herself.

***

“Baby… how much for the works?” I smelled body odor, whiskey and a concoction of other things I didn’t wish to know the origins of.

“Oh, sorry. I’m a man. Fucking equipment wasn’t built right,” I shrugged. From experience I knew it was safer for them to become disinterested then to act like a scared little school girl...especially since that's generally exactly what they wanted.

“I can fuck both ways, b-baby. Just let me..." he paused, thinking about where his sentence was going, "me show you a good time, I can make you feel gooood” he was touching me now, and that was my breaking point. I liked my space.

“How about I just fuck you up, and then I’ll be the only one having a good time tonight. Or ever again... shall we?” I made it obvious what my intentions were when I sliced through the air, setting my switchblade in place at his side. I felt the scratchy coat skim my fingers as he jumped back in surprise.

“Whoa, whoa, baby. Just tryin’ to do business,” he threw his hands up in a pathetic drunkard’s surrender, and meandered down the alley from where he crawled out of in the first place. Like the sea urchin he was.

I meandered down the familiar back roads, making my way to the bar on the ‘wrong’ side of town. The thing about wrong sides of town is… there always have to be those who can handle it, otherwise it’s just a vacant side of town.

“Jaxsionnnn, babyy,” I was greeted by overly gay cheek kisses over the bar counter. Why is it that when a guy decides he likes to fuck guys, they change the way they talk, dress and act? How are they proving a point to anyone?

“Hey, R,” I nodded, slinging my bag on the bar stool in between two chicks that were giving each other looks. I had a feeling I was interrupting some foreplay.

“You need a place to crash?” He asked. I loved him, but when the sequence on his shirt sparkled as he turned and came around the bar to me, I had an urge to reach back and take a swig of the tequila. 

“Just for one night, R. Promise.”

“Stay as long as you need, darling,” his eyes were over sympathetic and his uneven eyeliner was bugging me. R and I go way back. I was the first one he told about being gay and he was the only one I've ever told about my shit of a past. We've both changed a lot since then,  but the foundation in our friendship is fucking solid.

“Thanks. Night, love.” I blew him a kiss before swiping up my duffel and walking up the stairs in the back. I fished for the key in the fake fern guarding the stained beige door.

“Home sweet home,” I said out loud to myself, before jumping on the couch and falling asleep with my boots on.

***

I woke up not dreading the day, for the first time in a long time. 

“Morning sunshine, I made crepes!,” An all too giddy R was standing in the four foot kitchen, adorned with an apron.

“What is it about homos and pretending to act foreign?” I wheezed out as I stretched my body head to toe. "You're as French as my mom is a virgin," I laughed, relaxing.

“Mmhmm… fuck you,” he said with exerted attitude. “I guess you won’t want any, then,” he threatened, hand skillfully placed on his hip bone.

I swear they stand in front of the mirror and practice before they decide to become gay.

“Shut up and pass me a plate, diva.” I grabbed at the air in demand.

“So, back to your dragon of a mother, then?” I could hear the pity in his voice.

“Nope, never again, R,” I smiled, pulling out a crumpled newspaper clipping I’d been saving for the past two weeks. The one thing that gave me any hope of getting out of there.

“What’s the plan?”

I looked down at the worn strip, running my thumb over the delicate ink print that held all my future possibilities.

“Movin’ up in the world, R. Movin’ up.”