Turning To Stone

Chapter 2

The walk back to my car from Rose's home could only be described as erie. An almost inaudible hum comes from the faulty electrical box to my right and the sound of heavy footsteps of the drunken idiots who inhabit Diago's streets surround me. My fists tighten subconsciously, I usually make it a habit to avoid Diago's streets, but I often have no choice in the matter. A small flutter of fear explodes in my stomach as I notice the group of men passing a tall necked bottle of brown liquid amongst them. Their eyes lazily drag up and down my body. I rip my black hood over my head avoiding their glances. My mind unintentionally swings back to my predicament and lack of safe place to land and I internally panic at the thought of my father finding me in my car or worse, in Rose's apartment. A sleazy cat call rips me from daze, and another surge of venomous anger course through me and my eyes jerk towards the slack jawed drunkard reaching out to touch my ass. My fist contracts and it's swinging towards the man's stubble ridden jaw. He's sprawled across the shiny payment in with a single punch due to the alcohol. 

"Go to hell,". I mutter turning basically leaping in the direction of my car while watching the man behind me roll over attempting to salvage his bottle of liquor when a figure running from the alley to my right slams into me, sending me into a flickering street light. 

"What the fuck," a deep voice says stumbling forward, "Watch where you're going," he growls out in an animalistic like voice. 

"You watch out asshole you ran into me," I groan rubbing my side that already held bruises. The large figure freezes as my words reach his ears. He turns slowly almost as though his attempting to intimidate me, which he succeeds in doing until I take in his features. His piercing ocean blue eyes pin me against the pole in a way that I can only describe as pornographic, and his chestnut brown hair falls lazily across his forehead. I inhale sharply as his 6'4 figure stalks angrily towards me, dwarfing my 5'5 body. He reaches out and rips the hood from my head and a terrified squeak betrays my fear. A laugh reverberates through his body as he takes in my small features. 

"Here I was expecting a little bitch boy, at least I got the bitch part right," He says turning to leave.

"Fuck you, you're an asshole you know that?" I say annoyed, tonight was not the night to call me a bitch. For the second time tonight he turns attempting to intimidate.

"Watch it smart ass I am not one to fuck around with," He seethes through a clenched jaw. It is only then that I notice the tattoos that creep up the sides of his neck nearly reaching his jawline, my eyes immediately scan the rest of his figure looking for other tattoos until my eyes land on his right hand. 

"Holy shit," I whisper as I notice the distinctive black X on the back of his hand. Panic sets as I realize that I just told a member of the Copperhead Gang to "fuck off". I refuse to meet his gaze that threatens to burn into the side of my skull. I decide that it best not to piss him off any longer and near run the rest of the way to my car and slip into the back hoping to find him running in the opposite direction. Instead I find him in the same position I had left him, until he disappears amongst the other buildings. My panic ridden mind slowly calms itself down long enough to comprehend what had just happened.

"God I must have a death wish," I murmur to myself curling up into a ball in the small back seat with a corse black blanket. 

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The sun rises without actually shining. The continuous dark and cloudy weather that plagues Diago 365 days a year makes the morning seem more like the evening. I make my way back to where every one of my nightmares begins and ends. 

I stare absently at the house in front of me. The shudders are crooked in the dirty windows and the aging white paint is now more brown than the eggshell it was once painted. Overgrown bushes give 2763 Cashew Drive an eerily haunted look. The temperature suddenly drops ten degrees. A feeling of dread and fear constricts around me and I can barely breath. The gray cracked door to my father's cottage is jarred open and the late afternoon breeze has blown leaves onto the old floral rug that covers the landing. Another set of shivers run down my spine. I take a tentative step forward almost waiting for someone to come running out of the dimly lit foyer. I glance down at the payment and see raindrops slowly covering the concrete before walking the rest of the way into the foyer. Brown beer and tequila bottles cover the floor. I wince at the dried blood stain on the carpet to my left, it will undoubtedly never be cleaned, just as the empty alcohol bottles will never be thrown out. I suddenly find myself carefully stepping up the old stair case and into the foyer. A crash sends my body into a cold sweat. Leaning out from the kitchen in a crooked baseball cap stands my father. My eyes slowly travel up to meet his. I take in a sharp breath. His cold gray eyes hold an anger I have never seem, and a spark of violence takes over his body. All at once time seems to completely stop and everything happens in slow motion. He unsteadily lungs forward swinging a broken beer bottle at me as I attempted to jump towards the open door. He grabs onto my shoulder ripping me backwards into the house, throwing me to the ground. I gasp as the wind is forced from my lungs as I slam into the rough carpet.

"You bitch, you can't leave me. I own you." He slurs out as he stumbles to his knees infant of me. I scramble up back towards the door in a feeble attempt to run, "Don't fuckin move," he yells as he brings down the shattered bottle down, tearing my skin. The pain that erupts from my arm and back is almost unbearable. Sob after sob falls from my mouth as I cry out in pain. A sinister laugh falls from his lips as he leans back against the wall. I take the chance to hobble out the door and down the stairs away from him. I hear him try to run out after me but stumble on the edge of the carpet and end up on the ground again.

"VERONICA." I hear through the steady fall of the rain. I force myself to into a painful run and take a sharp turn down a narrow alley to take shelter from the storm and the impeding wrath of my father. I collapse at the end of the alley as the rain continues to beat the pavement. My vision blurs in and out of focus and the fatigue over comes me. It feels as though I had ran for hours instead of minutes. My body protests as I try to stand and nausea threatens to have my lunch spilled across the filthy alley. I lean against the brick wall and sigh tiredly. I stare aimlessly down the darkening alley, a clap of thunder and lightning brightens the alley for a moment. Damn this state's weather. Sounds rattle to my left. My head swivels toward the noises with a mix of excitement and fear. My vision blurs and a cold darkness strangles my consciousness.