F*cking Philophobia

We Are So F*cked

Pain ripped my body apart as I was shoved into the metal handles of the closet doors.

I stood on the balls of my feet as hot tears scorched my flushed cheeks. I felt like I had no reason to be crying, I was 19 for christs sake but I guess, I guess I was just scared.... you know? I swallowed large gulps of air that had refused to go down my cinched throat and sat in the back of my throat along with the fluctuating bile. My hands clamped tightly around her thick wrist as I tried to rip her burning hands of off of me, craning my neck to loosen her grip. My heels met the ground as I was released sure that I was branded with the imprint of her hands on my neck. I shoved her as hard as my strength would allow and ran out of the apartment after my eldest sister, Melanie. The tears poured incessantly like waterfalls down my face as I ran to the bottom of the fire escape where my sister sat with her bruised face buried deep in her hands, her body shook as she sobbed and at that moment I was glad with my choice to defend her, she never made it seem like she needed anything but she needed me, atleast thats what I thought.

I sat on the cold stone steps next to her waiting for her to lift her head up and acknowledge my presence, that never came so instead I sat quietly with my head leaning against the entryway of the backroom. 

This situation was just so fucked, she's been beating us since we could walk but never like this, never. I hated to admit it but I was petrified, what's going to happen after this? I heard the sound of the window unlatching and my body wriveled with fear. It was her as expected looking for us with a hostile frown engraved in her face. The doorway concealed our bodies.

"You are not my daughter, you're a stupid slut, you aren't shit and you will never be shit, whore!" She screamed knowing we couldn't have gone far seeing that we had nowhere to go. Nobody to call.

Melanie balled up her fist and the tears that were about to stop streaming down her face started to fall rapidly. She stepped out of the safety of the doorway.

"But you're my mom, I love you mom! You're supposed to love me! Believe me! " The last sentence came out choppy as frustrated sobs visibly raked through her body.

"I don't love you." Her voice was cold and sounded so legit that I was convinced that she never loved us.

Melanie sat back down and remained there until she heard the window shut then she just collapsed. I began to wonder If It was possible to cry until you couldn't feel any sort of emotion anymore or cry yourself into hopelessness. None of my many curiosities of life have ever been answered but today this one was and I experienced it first hand. I felt like the blood in my heart had been drained and replaced with some sort of negatively charged fluid. I was sad anymore, I was angry and bitter.

"Fuck you, you spineless bitch! He doesn't even love you!" Was all I could muster up at the moment as I glared up at her. Her hair was tangled and unkempt yet she made a weak effort to style it every mid afternoon before she met her clients. I didn't realise I was standing until I stopped yelling.

I stood still anyways for a while to let my rage subside before I crossed my arms over my chest and ran my hands up and down my upper arms in a weak attempt to ward off an eventual cold. I was never the the kind of person you could run to when you felt sad or just...hopeless, it was never my strong suit, but I would make an exception for today.  The one or two tears still spilling down my flushed cheeks were like light sprinkling compared to her ongoing rainstorm. It was odd to see her like this, she was usually an extremely robust hard ass. 

I knelt down beside her and looked for her face.

"I just need sometime alone."

I wanted to scream at her blame her for letting me wiggle my way into this grim predicament between her and mom but I bit my tongue instead. The bitter New York winds nipped ruthlessly at my cheeks as I swiped my tongue over both of my chapped lips and swallowed the meager saliva in my mouth to grant my dry throat with moisture. She said she wants her time alone so let me give it to her.

I sat up glad that my ass was no longer pressed against immensely uncomfortable ledge of aged red brick but before I took any more steps i wanted to make sure she knew how I felt about her pushing me away even though our biological mother just kicked us to the curb with no clothes or money leaving us basically homeless.

"That's remarkably fucked up, Mel." I sighed shakily and watched my warm breath billow out of my mouth. I pushed the lousy strand of dull brown hair that was whipping at my face behind my crimson ear.

"You know where to find me... I guess." And with that I strolled out of the alley behind the apartment complex and wandered into the familiar streets of New York.

It wasn't a surprise that she valued his word over ours but I just felt so frustrated, so damn pissed and I couldn't help but think, what a sad excuse for a mother she was and how we should have left ages ago.

I glanced through the glass window at the monochromatic clock in the wall of Uncle Woo's Chinese Take-out restaurant. The short hand was a little past seven now and the long hand at half past six meaning it was 7:35 on the dot.

As I got closer to my destination I wiped my face with the sleeves of my shirt hoping to erase any evidence of what had happened recently or I'll look like a pussy and those don't get far in places like New york where there's a potential mugger behind every damn corner.

I pushed open the heavy bar door and was immediately smacked with aroma of alcohol and masculinity, also know as sweat. The crooked scowls from middle aged men and skinheads never failed to intimidate me as they stared me down like fresh meat with every step I took. You would think it would get old seeing as that all of them are either frequent flyers or possibly jobless and that I come through here four days out of the week, but unfortunately... it doesn't.

"Hey, Danny. Can I stay here tonight?" I was already making my way towards the stairs just so that he wouldn't stop me to talk. 

"Terry its Sunday, I didn't think you were gonna be here today!" He screamed from downstairs his voice became slightly indistinct as I began to climb the first few steps.

"Something came up." I tried to make it out like nothing big happened and I just needed a place to crash. Ethen used to live in the space above the bar but it's been mostly vacant since he got married and bought a cozy loft on Bleecker street with his fiancee, lucky fuck. So no matter the reason when I need somewhere to go he lets me sleep there but it's different now, I actually needed somewhere to live not just to catch some z's.

I jog up the stairs skipping two at a time, the corridor was dim and smelled of disinfectant and beer. 

Nine times out of ten it was some hungover guy who reeked of liquor and his own or sometimes somebody else's stomach contents opening the door and that's exactly what I was expecting and Jesus proved me wrong then happily rubbed it in my face.

I banged on the door until it swung open and I was met with an unfamiliar set of gorgeous sober green eyes. The only thing that my mouth could formulate was a quiet

"Er...shit."