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HAPPY BIRTHDAY
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2022-11-16 11:32:03I'm exhausted. My legs hurt and my fingers are kind of cold. I'm grateful the day went by faster than I thought that it would, but I wanted to be safe indoors. The hope of getting home by the stroke of midnight was gone. It was ten minutes later and I had just gotten off at the last stop. The walk home was going to be at least another 15. Not to mention, I was feeling a bit peckish. I knew a corner store was located on the way, so I figured I'd stop and pick up something quick.
Water and a Ding Dong. That's it. How simple of me. I stood outside the store, opening the chocolate cake. I held it in the palm of my hand. Happy birthday Sincere. You're a grown woman now. My age seemed to be a formality. My life taught me to act older than what I was. I handled things children shouldn't have too. Really, eighteen meant I didn't have some judge or case worker telling me what I needed to do or where I needed to be. Eighteen meant the chains came off. I wished I had a candle to light for such a joyous occasion. Maybe I could make a wish that would actually come true. I sighed before taking a bite. I hadn't even swallowed my snack when a familiar voice made my blood run cold.
"Well I'll be damn…". John. I looked in the direction of the main street, seeing him parked off to the side of the road across from me.
"John…" I said. "What are you…"
"I was just sitting here thinking where did Sincere run off too? Why would she leave me, her loving father?" I blinked, watching as he slid out the red, beaten up truck. "Why would she rob me? Steal from me when I've done nothing but look after her." My throat felt tighter as I swallowed the cake. I couldn't find my voice to speak. That fear hit. That thing that makes me still.
"I didn't…" I couldn't finish my thought. He knew that I took the money, and if I lied, he'd think Sabor did it.
"Get in the car."
"No." I don't speak up for myself too often.
"Get in the damn car Sincere!" His voice echoes on the bare road. I glanced around and saw I was alone. There was a convenience store worker… "Don't fucking think about it." What other option did I have? He rushed over to me, his hand gripped me by my arm as he pulled me to the truck. He opened the door, forcing me in.
He found an alley. A very dark, narrow alley. He put the car in park, as he stared out the windshield. I stared down at the smushed cake in my hand.
"I don't understand you," he said softly. I said nothing. "How can you two be so ungrateful?" I was at a loss at how he didn't understand how things have changed. The silence was killing me. My heart beat was killing me. The knots in my stomach were even worse. It had been a long time since we were alone together. Now to be alone in the alley… this was the most unsafe I had felt. Get out of the car and run. That’s what my head was telling me. But where would I run to at this time of night? Where could I hide? It would be a mistake to run to the motel, because he’d know where I’d be. He could always come back. He could always stalk.
“I have to go.” The sound of these words coming from my mouth shocked even me. I sat up, reaching for the handle, when that strong arm of his thrusts into my upper chest, pushing me back into the seat. I don’t know what came over me, but I started to cry. Tears instantly came streaming down. The other thoughts in my head could be wrong. He could let me go without a scratch. He could throw me around just a bit but not cause me terrible harm. But I had to remind myself, hopeful thinking was a lie.
"Relax." I took a deep breath, trying to quiet my cry. "Hop in the cab." I shook my head. "Sincere…"
"What for!?" Nothing else came out of my mouth. His hand seemed to magically appear around my neck. His large fingers dug into the flesh of the sides as he squeezed. I gripped his wrist, pulling at him, but he was too strong. I felt his tongue slide up my left cheek as I now tried pulling at his fingers, leaving a thin layer of spit.
"You make me…crazy." His voice is raspy. The next thing I know, my hands are trying to push him off me. As he tries to pull and tug at my clothes, to get a glimpse at my never before seen body, I scratch, I hit, at one point, I bite. He seemed to be immune to the pain I was trying to inflict. It made him more antsy.
"Please," I whimpered, his body heavy against mine. How did I let him get on top of me? How did I get in this situation? I squeezed my eyes shut as he held onto the fabric of my jeans, trying to jerk them down as far as they would go. "Please don't!" I don't know why I bothered to plead. He wasn't going to listen.
"Aaaaggghhhh!" He roared in agony, piercing my eardrums. His body collapsed on top of mine for a brief second, allowing for a moment of confusion on my part. His body jolted up against me before he flung back. He held his hands up at me, as he heaved. It was as if he was having trouble breathing. I worked my way up, sitting taller, as he somehow managed to fall back out of the driver's side door. I felt a wetness in my lap and on my hands as I climbed out as well. Do I run before he changes his mind? The cold air of the night hit me hard. My jacket had been torn off my body. There was no extra layer protecting me from the unexpected windchill.. As I got ready to run in the opposite direction, I heard the sounds of muffled cries. What was happening? I creeped over to the other side of the car. John seemingly looked to be resting against the brick of the building, trash cans tumbled over around him. His limbs were sprawled out. It was odd that he wasn’t moving, but these low cries were still coming from him. I got a little closer, bending at the knees, squinting in the darkness. It was so hard to see.
“John?” I didn’t understand why it was that I wanted to check on him. Maybe it was the goodness in my heart that I tried so hard to hide. There was a little light coming from the moon and the car, but it wasn’t enough to get a clear understanding of the situation. I could see redness in his face with these blacks splashes, but it also seemed to have a shine to it, the way your lips did after applying too much lip gloss or devouring too much fried chicken. I reached out to him, running my hands over the side of his face. He didn’t bother to stop me. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was even looking at me. When I took my fingers from his skin, a thick goo came with me. “Egh.” What the hell is this? I looked back up at my attacker, seeing a tan piece of flesh holding on to his chin. The cheek where I just touched was nothing but red meat. “Oh my god.” My stomach churned. His brown eyes pleaded at me, but there was also terror. I didn’t understand. Why was he looking at me like this?
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