Filthy Fucks

Don't remember if this is posted. Oh, well. Have it again, if it is.
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Good things never last. It's too true. And while our band was playing shows twice a week, there was hell at the house. I came home one night with my last paycheck from the grocery store and knew that I had to find some way to get a new job to buy the kegs. When I told Ian and the boys that I'd lost my job and was having trouble finding a new one, they told me not to worry about it. We weren't getting paid much for gigs and the boys didn't all work - how could I not worry?
"How will I make up for it?" I asked Keith. He looked at me strangely and pulled me against his razor sharp hips.
"There's a way, Floie." he said softly and pulled my face to his to kiss me roughly. So, that was it. The boys found a way for me to make up for lack of rent and passed me back and forth whenever they needed me. Everyone but Ian knew what was going on.

One night, right before our last show together, Mikey pulled me backstage and told me to be quiet. He pressed me against a wall and slid his hand up my skirt, which led me to bite my lip and grimace. I was nothing more than a cheap fuck to these boys and I should have known that from the start.
"Shh," Mikey coaxed, slipping his fingers inside of me, "you be quiet for me, Floie."
I closed my eyes, but didn't struggle. Then, Ian's voice broke the silence.
"What the fuck is going on?" He shouted, forcing Mikey to back away.
"She ain't paying rent, Ian."
I looked into Ian's eyes, shattering, and saw the same look in them.
"Go and get ready, Mikey. We're on in ten," he instructed, sending Mikey away. I turned my face from him and started to go, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
"After all I fucking did for you, fucking slag! No fucking respect for anyone. Not even yourself."
"Ian, please, I - "
"Shut up, shut up. Just shut the fuck up! I gave you everything, and you tossed it into the rubbish."
"I'm sorry," I whimpered as he stormed away.

We played the worst show ever that night, and then Ian fucked me in the toilet.
"Did Keith fuck you this hard? Did Mikey like the feel of your mouth on his cock? Did he?" he snarled something along those lines, smacking my head against the wall as tears rolled down my face.
"Stupid cunt." he sneered and spat on me before leaving me ruined on the dirty linoleum. I sat up and grabbed some tissue to wipe the spunk off of my inner thighs, fixed myself, and walked out. The boys had already left and the next band was on: a five-piece called The Filthy Sckuf.

The lead-singer had the most obnoxious voice I have ever heard, and the band could barely play, but their presence amazed me. Convincing myself that I'd have a place to sleep that night, I ordered a pint and watched them play and almost got spit on by the bassist. When they finished, I had both a feeling of relief and a rush of uneasiness. The snide singer burped loudly and came over to the bar.
"'Ey, man, get me a pint, then." he sneered, spitting across the room. I cringed and turned away from him as he started coughing horrendously and the bar keep passed him a pint.

"How come he didn't have to pay?" I demanded, appalled.
"Cos he's a performer."
"So what? That's not fair. I played here, too."
The snide singer downed his pint and looked at me.
"Oh, fuck off. Your music's shit anyway." As he said this, my jaw dropped to the floor and I threw the rest of my pint in his face.
"Fuck you, it's all I've got! You can't even sing!"
He growled at me and pushed me, then spat on me.
"And you sing too pretty. You're a fucking fraud."

I jolted from the floor and pushed him against a wall.
"Don't you call me a fraud." I told him in an icy tone. His deep blue eyes raged with fury.
"I don't hit birds, dearie, but you're fuckin' pushin' it."
I sneered and slapped him.
"You don't have any idea what I've already been through tonight."
"Baby, you don't know what I've been through in my life." He shot back.

The bassist came over cheering, with a forty ounce beer in his hands.
"Hey, John! You gonna have it off with her, then?" He laughed and sipped his beer.
"Close yer gob, Alfie, for fuck's sake." he snapped, but Alfie didn't lose his smile.
"Right, right! Hey, Dave, Charlie, Jimbo!" He called to the other members of the band before joining them, despite the fact that they were too busy with a group of girls to notice him.

I looked back at John,
"You gonna let me go, or you gonna keep me pinned to this wall all night and waste my time?" he snarled and I raised a brow.
"What's the matter with you? You don't like being pinned to a wall by a girl? Are you too much of a pussy to push me off?"
John glared at me and pushed me hard then brushed past me.
"Cunt." he grumbled under his breath as he lumbered off towards the rest of the band, but I followed him.
"Piss off!" he shouted, "what do you care if I got a pint for free? Christ, you're blowing everything out of proportion!"
"You called me a fraud." I glowered.
"You are," he began, "but we all are in our own way. 'Cept me. I'm realer than real."
"I think you're just a cocky bastard." I retorted, coldly, sending him a mean sneer. He raised his fist, and as he was about to hit me, Alfie grabbed him arm.
"Come on, John. Stop actin' about! Buy the bird a drink."
John looked at him as though he'd lost it.
"Yeah, man! Save the abuse for a bunk-up!" Charlie, the curly blonde drummer, called before clinking his glass against the two guitarists' and downing his pint.
"I wouldn't shag this bird." John grumbled and spat on the floor in my direction.
"Oh, bollocks!" Alfie exclaimed, incredulous, "you'd hop into her knickers in a flash!"

John shook his head and started swearing to himself.
"I'm fucking out of here. I'll see you tomorrow, mates," he looked at me, "hope I never see you again." He snarled and gave me the look of death.
"You lie, John. But don't worry; I'll be at every gig you play from now on." I kissed him hard on the lips and the band cheered. When I pulled away, I noticed just how red his had become, and smirked to myself, then patted his cheek.
"Goodnight." I cooed before putting on my blazer and walking out of the club.

I left in a haughty manner, overly proud of myself for creating such a scene, but the magic didn't last. I took no more than five steps when I saw Keith approaching me with a duffle of my things.
"What's going on?" I panicked.
"Ian wants you gone. Don't come back no more, Floie."
"But, why?"
Keith threw the duffle at me.
"He don't like sharin'," be began, "wanted you for himself."
"What?"
"He wanted you for himself. He repeated and spat on my shoes before walking away.

I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, letting the news sink in. I was homeless, now. I had no money, no job, no food, no home. No one would even give a damn about that. Defeated, I sank onto the sidewalk, pressing my back against the brick, and hugged my knees tightly to my chest. I heard loud, garbled voices coming from the club, and soon, The Filthy Sckuf emerged, singing in a drunken stupor. They didn't even see me. I noticed that John was not with them, and too soon after that observation, I heard that awful cough and spit routine. He walked out of the club and spat on the sidewalk then started to walk in my direction, so I buried my head in my knees.

"What you doing down there, then?" he asked, "don't you want to go home to your boys and have a bunk-up?"
I bit my lip.
"I can't go home, and, unfortunately, I've had to fuck them for the past four months cos I couldn't get a job for rent." I said softly and looked up at him.
"You're joking," he stated, incredulous and slightly appalled.
"No, I'm not." I replied and got up then picked up my duffle, "I don't have a clue where I'm going now, but I've got to go find somewhere to go."
I began to walk away, but he called,
"Hey! Wait!" and I turned around as he rushed over to me, "you want to come to my gaff tonight? It's not much, but it's better than a gutter - well, maybe not, but, it's a place to sleep."
"You're really unpredictable, John." I told him, shaking my head, "Christ, I thought you hated me."
"No, I don't hate," he started, "I just make people think I do so they fuck off." He smiled queerly at me.
"Would you really give me a place to stay for a little while?" I questioned.
"Yeah, sure. I think I can stand you for an hour or two."
I sneered and hit him playfully.

"Come on, get the fuck, the train stops runnin' in twenty minutes." He grabbed my wrist and tugged me down the street towards the station.
"But I don't have any money." I told him.
"Christ, you've been in England for over a year and you don't know how the subway works? Watch and learn, girly." He looked quickly around the station then bolted under the turnstile, taking me with him.
"Ouch." I whimpered and rubbed my head.
"Yeah, that happens sometimes. Come on."
We rushed down to the terminal and hopped onto the train seconds before the doors shut.
"Christ, what a rush." John stated, attempting to catch his breath, "What the fuck is your name, by the way?"
"I'm Flora." I responded and he shook his head.
"Fucking Americans."

When we got to his building, I could not believe how filthy his apartment was, and how little like a home it looked. He had no real furniture other than a few ratty cushions, a television, and a tipsy cardboard box with a few half-filled bottles of booze and an ashtray.
"Ah, home," he proudly said, "you'll meet the flatmates soon enough." he informed me.
"Who else lives here?" I asked causing John to grin.
"Oh, you know, the roaches, the rats, some mice. They don't hurt you if you don't hurt them."
I cringed discreetly at his words and simply nodded.

John stretched out on the cushions and lit a cigarette, but I stood still and looked around, nervously, for the flatmates.
"Mind if I shower?" I inquired. He shrugged.
"Do what you want. Just don't leave any girly products lying about." He responded and turned on the TV.

I wanted to wash all of my skin off, just peel away the layers until I was just bone. I don't know how long I was in there, but I turned into a lobster. I just stood there and let the water hit me, just staring at the grimy tile wall. John came into the toilet and yelled,
"Hey, Flora! You've been in there for twenty minutes! Come on, then!"
But I made no response. I sank to the bottom of the tub and let the tears run down my face, washed away by the water, over and over, but they didn't stop flowing.
John called again and when I made no response, he pulled the shower curtain and saw me there, sitting down, curled up, and crying.

Something changed in his face at that moment, for he, too, looked as sore as I was. He turned off the water and wrapped me in a towel, then he helped me out of the shower.
"Don't let those cunts ruin your life, Flora. Don't let the bastards win." He urged. My head fell against his shoulder and I wrapped my arms around him, but he did not respond to me. He slowly patted me on the back and left me to dress.

A month or so went by, and I told John I was going to find another place to go since I felt I had outworn my welcome. As I opened the door and took one step out, he stopped me.
"Don't go."
I turned to look at him, but before I could say anything, he pulled me inside, slammed the door, and stared at me. "You're staying." he declared, eyes firmly fixed on mine. I went to speak, but he pulled me into his arms and kissed me fervently, honestly, and I returned the kiss in the same manner. A spark had grown into a fire between us.

I didn't leave that day, or the next, or the next. I didn't want to; because even though Johnny and I had nothing more than each other, it was all we needed. And all I'd ever wanted.

Et Tu, Brian? pt 4 (Rebirth)

I'm really not sure how I feel about this chapter. It's kind of not that good in my mind, so, obviously, there will be future edits. Kindly read and respond. Your feedback is crucial to me. Many thanks.

I somewhat want to rip this chapter to pieces because it's not very impressive. Oh, well.

PS: This one is sequential to the last posted segment. Thanks.
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My mother left for work on Friday night, informing me of her departure as I lay half asleep on her sofa, listlessly watching CNN.

“There’s baked ziti in the fridge if you get hungry,” she said, “and please be sure to take the dog out before you get too sleepy. I’ll be home in the morning.”

I nodded, sluggishly, letting my eyes flutter shut as she closed the door and locked it behind her. I groaned and rolled over on the sofa, pulling a blanket over the top of my head. I drifted off to sleep without hesitation, completely disregarding her request. It seemed that, only shortly after doing so, I found myself snatched from my world of wonders and hurled back into reality. My phone would not cease to ring. I rolled over and picked it up, without first reviewing who so desperately sought my attention.

“Yeah?” I growled.

“Brian? Were you sleeping? It’s me.”

I moved the phone away from my mouth and grumbled to myself,

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered before replying to her, “yeah, I was asleep. What’s going on?”

“You never called. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for two days.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Do you want me to let you sleep?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, will you please call me when you get up? Please?”

“Yeah, I’ll call.”

“It’s just, you know, it’s Friday night and I was hoping we could get together.”

“I’ll call you in a little bit,” I said, groggily, doing whatever I could to get her to leave me in peace.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” she said, much too cheerfully.

I hung up and turned my phone off, giving my best attempt to fall back into sleep’s sweet embrace. An hour later, after failing to do so, I rose from my nest on the couch to attend to the dog. I let her run wild and free by the waterside, allowing her to do her business in peace as my mind wandered. I reached into my pocket, in search of my cell phone, and turned it back on, curiously. I had anticipated a slew of voicemail notifications, missed calls, and text messages, but surprisingly, found none. I raised a brow, perplexed, and ushered the dog back inside of the apartment building. I flopped down on the couch once I’d made my way inside and allowed my eyes to glaze over as I stared, blankly, at the television screen before me. My eyes fluttered, once again, and I settled into my resting place on the sofa.

I mused on calling Calpurnia and convincing her to come over, but something about loafing around seemed far more appealing than her aggravating and sickeningly affectionate company. I curled beneath the blanket and debated sleeping or feeling her warm skin next to mine. Within the next restless hour, and against my better judgment, I placed the call, requesting her to join me in my nest. Promptly and ever-willingly, she agreed to arrive within thirty minutes. I sighed and buried myself below the blanket, wondering what I was doing and why I seemed so drawn to her now, all of a sudden.

I fell into a dreamless sleep shortly thereafter, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. In truth, I’m not sure which I’d have preferred less, not dreaming in sleep, or being with her. She rang the bell, forcing me to rise again from my haven. I went to answer the door, hair matted and clothing wrinkled. There she stood, crisply dressed and fresh faced, still glowing, still gorgeous, still spiting me without her knowledge of it.

“Hey,” I said, lethargically, before producing a tremendous yawn. I opened the door, wider, granting her permission to enter. She smiled much too sweetly, batting her eyelids with attempted girlish charm that only made me even more livid. I closed the door behind her and watched her as she walked around the apartment.

“It’s been so long since I was here,” she said, as though a child visiting Disney World for the first time. I flopped back down on the couch and shook my head,

“Nothing’s changed,” I said. She looked at me and smiled again,

“I missed it.”

I snorted,

“God, whatever for? I can’t even stand being here.”

She sat down beside me on the sofa and sighed softly,

“How’s your mom?” she asked.

“Working. Can we not talk about her, please?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” she said, quietly, abashed.

“It’s fine, I just, I don’t feel like bringing her up. You know?”

She nodded like a simpleton, crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap.

“So, what do you wanna do?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. We could watch a movie or something, I guess,” I said, defeated, bored, and incapable of upholding my callousness.

“Okay,” she said, smiling in that same nerve-wracking manner of hers.

I grabbed the remote and flipped through the available options, choosing what I felt to be the least insipid and mind-numbing. She wouldn’t have cared what I’d chosen, anyway. The girl could have been pleased as pie sitting in a dirt road with me, for crying out loud. I’d never witnessed anything as sad as how spineless she was. I leaned back on the sofa to relax and watch the film. She continued to sit straight up, still posed in her proper position. I sighed and touched her arm, causing her to look back at me with her wide blue eyes.

“Lay down,” I insisted. Slowly, she leaned back onto me and I awkwardly wrapped an arm around her. She rested her head upon my chest as we watched the film. Some moments later, she lifted it and looked at me.

“You heart is beating so fast,” she said, “are you all right?”

“It happens,” I said, urging her to shut up.

She laid her head back down and kept quiet. It almost felt normal, laying with her, cuddling, stroking her back as she listened to my rapid heartbeat, our eyes firmly fixed on the television screen. For a short time, I seemed almost content with the situation, but I knew that that feeling couldn’t last. Near the end of the film, I began to grow increasingly uncomfortable as a slight wave of panic washed over me. I tapped her on the arm several times and she looked at me, startled and confused.

“My arm’s getting numb,” I lied.

“Do you want to lay on me?” she asked. Too tired to argue the idea, I nodded and we switched positions. I rested my head on her chest and listened to her heart beating as she stroked my hair. I closed my eyes and drifted away, too relaxed and comfortable to deny.

“Brian? Brian? Are you asleep?”

She shook my gently, waking me. I sat up, instantly, and moved off of her.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you,” she said. I closed my eyes briefly and shook my head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She frowned and rubbed my arm before I got off of the sofa to get a drink. Like a lost puppy, she followed me into the kitchen.

“Do you want a root beer?” I asked, “One week out of the year, I seem to go through a phase of it.”

I poured myself a glass and turned to her.

“Sure,” she said.

I got out another glass and poured her some. We drank in silence standing in the kitchen, eyes averted from one another. I opened the fridge and peered inside, taking note of the baked ziti my mother had mentioned prior to her departure. I sneered and picked up a package of chuck roast I’d picked up at the grocery store earlier that day. Calpurnia looked at me, perplexed, as I examined it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Oh, I was going to cook this earlier, but I fell asleep,” I said, “want some?”

“No, that’s okay,” she replied.

I wrinkled my nose, shrugged, and threw the package back into the fridge before slamming the door shut. I placed my empty glass in the sink and walked back to the sofa.

“Just leave it in there,” I said, before she’d even had a chance to inquire.

I heard her place her glass beside mine before padding across the carpet to join me again. I picked up the remote and flipped channels, ultimately ending where I’d started earlier that evening. She sat down beside me and watched, silently and attentively. I looked over at her and examined her features to great and excessive detail, making note of every blemish in her skin and every red crack in seemingly flawless blue eyes. Somehow, regardless of her imperfections, I felt profoundly drawn to her. I leaned closer to her, causing her to turn and face me.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

I found myself staring at her lips, sensing my own beginning to quake and tremble, aching for a taste of them. I leaned in and pressed my mouth to hers without any inhibition. She reciprocated with such an exquisite fervor that I simply could not control myself. My entire body quivered with lust and with nervousness and with delight. I pulled her onto my lap and she entangled her legs around my midsection, our lips still locked together. I allowed my hands to roam the contours of her slim, shapely frame as she ran her fingers through my hair. I could feel myself growing increasingly aroused as our foreplay continued. I pulled away from her and moved her off of me, laying her down onto the carpet below us. I lay down on top of her and continued to kiss her, furiously. She wouldn’t get a say in what I was determined to do next. I wanted her – no, I needed her, and I’d stop at nothing to have her. I unbuttoned my shirt, leaving it on, but wide open. She slid her tiny hands across my chest, raking her nails against my skin. I inhaled sharply and leaned down to kiss her again. Unfortunately, I’d been beaten to her mouth.

She started giggling, nervously, and I pulled back to find that the dog had come over and started slobbering on her face. I sighed, having lost my capacity to seduce her, and pulled away.

“Come on,” I snapped at the dog.

Calpurnia laughed and rolled around on the carpet, pushing the dog’s wet nose and tongue out of her face, playfully. I rose from the floor and grabbed one of the dog’s toys, throwing it across the room so she’d chase after it and let the girl loose. Calpurnia sat up and wiped off her face.

“Ugh! So sloppy,” she said, still giggling slightly. I took my place back on the sofa and folded my arms, scowling. She slinked across my lap and reached for me, but I moved from her grasp.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, the glee dissipating from her face.

“Nothing,” I said, stoic and cold.

She sighed and regained her proper and posed position, legs crossed, hands folded. The two of us stared blankly at the blinding box in front of us, not sharing a single word.

She began fidgeting with her thumbs and playing with her hair, and tapping her foot rapidly and repeatedly out of boredom. I looked down and watched her moving it up and down, faster, faster, faster.

“Could you stop that?” I asked.

She froze and turned to me.

“Stop what, Brian?”

“That foot. You’re, you’re tapping.”

“Oh, yes.”

She ceased at my request, but I could perceive the intense boredom in her eyes. She leaned back on the couch, stretching and arching her back. I gawked at her curved, slight frame as she did so, almost capable of counting each of her ribs one by one. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

“Did you want to go out at all or anything?” she asked. I shook my head.

“I’m hermitting tonight,” I replied. She smirked and shook her head.

“That’s a classic,” she remarked.

“What?”

“You, being a hermit. Don’t you want to go out and live life, Brian? I mean, what’s so great about sitting inside in front of the TV all night? It’s all you ever do. There’s a whole world waiting out there.”

I made no response, simply stared at her briefly before yawning and reclining back on the sofa. I closed my eyes and rested my head on her shoulder. She sighed heavily and massaged my scalp. I opened my eyes, groaning with pleasure and stretched myself across her lap. I gazed up at her as she continued to run her fingers through my hair. She possessed a kind of glow in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place, something warm and fervent and true reflecting my dead gray eyes. I reached a finger up and ran it across her lower lip, tracing its shape. Slowly, I ran my fingers along her jaw line and up around her cheek, resting them gently at the nape of her neck. With her free hand, she stroked mine, keeping her bright eyes locked onto my dull ones.

A violent wave of anxiety coursed through my being. I felt as though I’d burst into a panic attack within the next few seconds as a myriad of feeling took hold of me. What was this foreign and unnatural sentiment she had aroused in me? She laid her hand delicately across my forehead, caressing it momentarily, and then rested her hand upon my cheek. My entire body grew warm and placid. I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to take me. I don’t know how long I lay there, entwined in her arms, strewn across her lap, but as much as I’d never willingly admit to it, it felt divine.

I woke some time later and found her still beneath me, her pleasant eyes closed, and clearly entranced in her very own world of wonders. My cheeks began to burn as I allowed a smile to take hold of my face. I looked at the clock and realized that my mother would be on her way home from work shortly. I poked and prodded Calpurnia, stirring her from her slumber, as she’d so often done to me.

“Hey,” I said as her eyes fluttered open, now cracked and red from fatigue, “come on, you should get up.”

She produced a sleepy and disheartened grunt as she slid out from underneath me.

“I’m so tired, Brian,” she said.

“Yeah, I know, so, come on.”

She yawned and stretched, half-heartedly.

“Into your room?”

“No. No. You should go home.”

“I don’t think I can drive that far right now.”

“Well, just,” I paused, frustrated, and bit my lip, fighting the anger and the panic welling within me, “you have to go.”

She groaned and slumped back down on the sofa, closing her eyes again.

“No, get up. I mean, really, you have to go,” I said, grabbing a hold of her arm and shaking it vigorously.

“Stop,” she whined, still unmoved.

A vicious rush of panic spread through me, and it seemed as though a thick layer of ice had developed on the skin of my back. My pulse raced so high and so hard that I could hear every booming beat of my heart and feel the very organ jumping into my throat. I started to lose my breath, and the hyperventilation commenced. I sank to the floor and writhed, hugging my knees to my chest, begging the brutal ride to stop.

Calpurnia rose from her sleeping place and rushed to my aid.

“Brian! Brian! Come back to me. Come back. Look at me. Come back to me.”

She wrapped her arms around me, but I flung her off faster than I’d imagined possible.

“You make it worse,” I managed to spit out through heavy breaths, “you are the problem. Get out. Get the fuck out!”

With all of my strength, I lifted my quaking hand and pointed, with a trembling finger, to the door. She looked at me as though I were a wounded puppy.

“You aren’t well,” she insisted, “let me help you.”

“I don’t need help. You need to go.”

She reached for me and I squirmed away from her grasp.

“I’m serious,” I warned, the anger brimming from inside of me.

“Just let me put you to bed, then I’ll go.”

“I don’t need you to put me to bed. Just get out.”

She didn’t stop. She advanced on me, reaching out with her tiny, malformed hands to latch onto me in some way, in any way that she could. I couldn’t win. The panic had conquered, and all of the rationality and logic I once possessed had faded entirely. I succumbed to her aid and allowed her to assist me into my bedroom. She turned to go, but I seized her from behind and bit her hard on the neck, running my hands over her. The panic began to dissipate, but awkwardness still lingered inside of me. She shrieked and collapsed against me, melting like putty beneath my fingers. I kissed her neck violently, almost animalistic in fashion, no inhibition, no fear of hurting her, no remorse. She wailed and sank to her knees, slipping away from me. I went after her on the floor to pull her close again, to take her, but I heard the front door unlock and creak open. I froze in the middle of my stance, listening. Calpurnia opened her wide eyes and did the same.

“Brian, what’s—”

I slapped my hand across her mouth to silence her, shooting her a cautionary glance. I heard my mother drop her keys on the table by the door and pad across the carpet into the kitchen. She turned on the water for a moment, and then turned it off, again. I heard her pad further away and close her bedroom door. I waited several minutes after she’d done so before releasing my hand from Calpurnia’s mouth. I wiped it against my pants as she shook her head.

“We’re adults, you know,” she remarked.

“Thanks, I don’t think I was aware,” I snapped, “do you really want my mother to walk in to hear us fucking?”

“We weren’t, and judging by the looks of things, we wouldn’t probably have been. Your meds, Brian.”

I scoffed and opened the drawer beside my bed to procure several bottles and numerous pills from each. She handed me a bottle of water from the stack I had sitting in the corner of my room by the window.

“Here,” she said, as I took it from her, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, my God, you’re not my mother,” I snarled.

“Yeah, and thank God for that,” she shot back.

Admittedly, I found myself thoroughly impressed with her emerging backbone. I swallowed the pills, one, two, three, then downed the rest of the sizeable handful in a fourth and final swig. I put the bottle down on my nightstand and sighed, looking out the window.

“It’s snowing,” I said, opening the blinds a bit more to watch the heavy flakes fall.

Calpurnia crawled across the floor behind me and poked her head over my shoulder to take a look for herself.


“Wow, it’s really coming down,” she said, eyes widened and gazing at the sea of white just outside of us.

I sighed once more and stretched out on the carpet, closing my eyes, exhausted. I reached out for her and felt her warm, soft skin against my fingertips. I opened my eyes and gazed at her. She sat there watching the snow, entranced by it, as though she’d never seen it before. I examined her doing so, finding some kind of simple wonder in how she could appreciate the most intricate and minute details of life that most would take for granted. I stroked her forearm, breaking her gaze on the world outside and forcing her to return to the one she shared only with me. I coaxed her to lay down with me and wrapped an arm around her as she rested herself upon my chest. I stroked her hair and closed my eyes.

“Perhaps you and I really aren’t so unlike,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, but I hushed her.

“Sleep,” I insisted.

She fell silent and, soon, we fell into Morpheus’s sweet embrace. The snow fell silently outside, enveloping the world and purity and life anew. And though I lay in slumber, something new and unfamiliar inside of me had awakened.

Et Tu, Brian? (A Streetcar Named Desire)

DISCLAIMER: What you're about to read contains explicit and vulgar adult themes. It may be offensive. If you are opposed to this type of material, please don't bother reading any further than this paragraph. Thanks.

PS: This scene is obviously not sequential to the last two installments I've posted.

PPS: If there are errors, I apologize. I'll fix them when I can. I had to rush the transcription, yet again, because of internet challenges. Thanks for understanding. Enjoy.

Et Tu, Brian? - "A Streetcar Named Desire"
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As the leaves tumbled down, leaving the trees naked in the cold, I felt something warm stir within me. I had driven through several states that day, making my way back to the homeland for the holidays. In truth, I’d have much preferred my solitude back in Greensboro, but in order to stop my family from incessantly harassing me, I packed my things and headed north. I made my way into town late on a Wednesday evening, and it seemed that, for once, everyone had gone missing from it. I’d be the last to complain, were that so, but I knew it sadly wasn’t.

While I sat at a stop light, I rolled down the window of my car, allowing my breath to dance just outside the glass. I listened for a sound of life, but could hear none. The light changed and I continued my journey along the twisted, tree-lined roads. I took a detour behind the old mill just to see if the abandoned streetcars still remained dead on their tracks. To my genuine surprise and, dare I say it, delight, I found them there, still perfectly intact upon their rickety tracks and covered in holiday lights. I pulled over on the road beside them and got out of my car. As I crossed the gravel to them, I made certain that I was alone.

I shivered in the dark, but could clearly see the heat from my breath hanging in the air. I walked up to one of the streetcars and fiddled with the door. Open! Cautiously, I took one last look around me and hopped up inside of it. I could smell the years of stagnation from its dank walls and musky seats. I sat for a moment and closed my eyes to take it all in, imagining what it would have truly been like to be in the very seat in which I sat in 1938. Doing so sent me to an exceedingly evocative place. I could smell the oppression, the laundresses chattering next to me, the salesman worrying over his case holding more inventory than profit, the woman singing to the baby in her arms. I opened my eyes, transported back to modern day, sitting inside an abandoned streetcar alone, in the cold and dark.

I dug into my pocket to procure my cell phone and ran through the list of numbers until I found what I desperately sought. For once, it would be my turn to call upon her. For months, I had ignored her existence, fought off phone calls and emails with bitterness and silence, but tonight, I needed her. I sighed, swallowed my pride, and dialed. The bloodcurdling sound of the ringing nearly sent my nerves shooting through the roof of the car. My pulse climbed and my heart soared into my throat. I swiftly pulled the phone from my ear and went to hang it up when I heard her voice on the other end.

“Hello? Hello? Brian? Brian, are you there?”

I bit my lip, cursing myself, and lifted the phone back to my ear.

“Hey,” was all I could manage the strength to say. She laughed in her nervous way,

“Oh, my gosh! I’ve been trying to get through to you for months. What’s going on?”

I said nothing for a moment, examining my surroundings once again.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Just at home with the cat. Why?”

“Do you know where the old streetcars are? You know, behind the old mill?”

“Yes, why?”

“Come here as soon as you can.”

“Are you there? What’s going on? I—”

“Don’t ask any more questions. Just get down here.”

“Okay.”

I hung up the phone and draped myself over one of the benches in the car. I closed my eyes and begged for sleep to take me, knowing full well that I had just buried myself alive by allowing her to infringe upon my solitude. Just when I thought that, perhaps, I might have dozed off, I heard a car scraping through the gravel outside. My eyes sprung open and I felt my pulse racing again. The heat within me flourished and continued to do so with every move I heard from outside of the streetcar. I peered out through the smudged glass window and saw her standing there, confused and lost. She looked much different than I could remember, yet I couldn’t interpret what, exactly, had changed about her.

I watched her walk about in the gravel, looking through the windows in the various other cars on the lot. I ogled her long, well-shaped legs, obviously bare, and the suggestive black stilettos on her dainty little feet. She had, undoubtedly, grown into something fine and exceptionally aesthetically pleasing. She sighed with disappointment and crossed over to the car in which I lay resting. I heard the door rattle and pop open, followed by her head of blonde hair and large, frightened blue eyes seeking out my presence. She looked around the car and bit her voluptuous, red lower lip. I stood to make myself known and she jumped, startled.

“Jesus, Brian, you scared me.”

I walked over to her, locking her bright blue eyes on my icy gray ones. Slowly, I bent down and wrapped my arms around her, a truly foreign concept to me. She stood catatonic for a moment before flinging hers around my neck.

“You look amazing,” she said, “but you know I’ve always thought so.”

I smiled, half-heartedly, and nodded.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her jaw seemed to drop the instant I uttered those words. I focused on her quivering ruby red lips and breathed her scent into my nostrils. Nothing else mattered that night. She was utterly intoxicating and I had to have her, I needed her. She looked up at me with her wide blue eyes and parted her lips to speak,

“Why did you call me to come out here?” she asked.

I looked her over again, hungrily, and still uncertain what had changed about her that had made my entire body ache for her.

“Because,” was all I could muster. She raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip,

“Because?”

Another brief moment of silence passed between us before I grabbed her and pulled her tightly against me. I heard her struggle for breath in alarm as I bit down on her neck with fervor, forcing her to feel the heat and lust and desire I so desperately needed to bestow upon her. She whimpered and collapsed in my arms like a limp noodle as my lips met hers. I pushed her down onto one of the benches and cracked open her soft, smooth legs.

“Brian, I don’t think—”

I shut her mouth up by filling it with mine, and she took the hint ever willingly. My cold hands traced up her supple skin, causing her thighs to tremble slightly. I hadn’t the capacity to contain myself and continued to kiss her. The shape of her lips meshed so impeccably with mine, so much so that I found myself even more aroused at the mere thought of how well designed she’d become. I slid my hand up further, breaking my way through her cotton barrier and felt something even warmer and softer than her thighs.

Calpurnia shrieked and jolted from the bench, but I pinned her down with my free arm, pressing my elbow against her to keep her right where I wanted her. She squirmed as I allowed my fingers to explore her, proceeding to lock her legs around me, providing me full access to what I craved. I laid my head down upon her chest and listened to her heart beat. It fascinated me to monitor the physical changes that her body produced during increased arousal. She ran her fingers through my lustrous black hair as her breathing grew rapid and shallow.

“Brian,” she whispered, hoarsely, “shouldn’t we take this somewhere else? I only live five minutes—”

I covered her mouth with my hand as I plunged my fingers deeper inside of her. I watched her eyes roll back into her head as she nearly screamed with pleasure. I felt her tiny hands working across my midsection, struggling to undo my belt and unzip my pants.

She was failing at her task so horrifically that I had to cease mine to assist her. I removed my belt and pulled my pants down over my knees. She stared for a moment, entranced, though, obviously, it had not been the first time we’d had this type of encounter. I lay back on the bench, forcing her to unlock her legs from me, then pulled her down to meet me, face to face. I kissed her, a little softer this time, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and whispering,

“Suck my cock, you bitch.”

She yelped as I gave a vigorous tug on her hair, but hastily submitted by taking me fully into her pretty little mouth. It was now my turn to reap the benefits of arousal. My pulse climbed, my breathing grew rapid and shallow, and I knew that I could bear very little more foreplay. I groaned without consciously desiring to do, but she had raised it out of me. I opened my eyes and watched her, artfully bobbing her head up and down, her mouth tender and warm and wet, her hands perfectly placed, stroking me exquisitely.

She climbed up on top of me and rubbed herself against me. I shivered delightfully and pulled her closer, countering with my own gyrations. She leaned down, letting her hair fall and frame us behind its curtain, and kissed me, as though eating my lips for sustenance. We continued to caress one another in this fashion until I lifted her onto me. She inhaled sharply as I penetrated her, eyes widened and bursting with mixed emotions. She looked down at me as her hips glided to and fro, and I could tell that she saw the hunger in my eyes. I gazed up at her, watching her make her best effort to pleasure the both of us. She released a feeble moan and rode faster, harder. She leaned down to kiss me, but I grabbed a hold of her jaw, forcing her to stop. I tightened my fingers around her slim neck and watched her pretty eyes grow even larger than I’d ever seen them.

“Harder,” I growled, forcing her to comply. I kept my fingers neatly wrapped around her throat, squeezing tighter every so often, treating her like a horse with a riding crop.

“Faster,” I demanded, now so satiated with excitement that I would soon, assuredly, burst.

I looked up into her eyes, now bloodshot and rife with pain and fear, and noticed the tears streaking her cheeks. Her copious black mascara had run and smeared across her face. The hate I bore for her proliferated almost instantly once I had debased her to this weak and ugly creature, far from the beautiful and confident one I had encountered only moments before our romp had begun. I gripped her throat with such force and vehemence that she let out a pathetic yelp, placing her hand on top of mine, and shaking her head as more tears streamed from her swollen eyes. I released my hand from her throat and she inhaled with haste, as if tasting air for the first time in her life. She stopped for a moment to regain her composure, but to me, this was unacceptable. I struck her hard across the face and pushed her off of me, shoving her onto her hands and knees. I knew that she ached to scream from the pain and pleasure I’d been inflicting upon her, but I wouldn’t allow such a thing.

I slapped my hand over her mouth and pulled her hips back in line with mine. I promptly slipped back inside of her and began to pump with full force. She felt exquisite, divine, like a glove. I groaned without inhibition, feeling as though I’d passed on to another world, a greater world. I reached down and started to rub her, just the way I knew she liked it. She whimpered and bit my fingers, shaking with ecstasy.

“Yes, cum for me,” I whispered just beside her ear. I kissed her neck affectionately and she gasped, leaning her head back against my chest. I thrust remorselessly and deeper as I felt her hips buckle beneath the pressure of my fingers. She let out a pitiable cry and I felt her thighs shaking with climax.

“Good,” I said, softly, “now, it’s my turn.”

I eased my pace to get a much more intimate feel of her. I wanted to experience every ridge, every passage, every throbbing muscle inside of her. The mere thought of it caused me to tremble, deliciously, as I put my plan into action. I ran my fingers through her hair, tenderly massaging her scalp before taking hold of her hips to manually move them just the way I needed them to move. She reached back and stroked my cheek, then ran her hand over my lips and down my neck. The shock and awe of her loving touch struck a chord deeply within me and, fight it as I might have, it transported me into paradise. I gave three more fierce thrusts within her and, without warning, let everything inside of me go. I heard her cry something out, but could not comprehend what she was saying, having been transported to some kind of blissful realm. She squirmed below me as I filled her up, but I didn’t give a good goddamn. I held her firmly in place, rocking my hips gently as the last few drops spilled out of me before collapsing, breathless, on top of her.

I felt far too complacent to move, but the high did not last long. Several minutes later, I leaped off of her and pulled my pants back up. A heat wave rolled over my entire body, and I felt the intense burn of iniquity. My hands began to shake, and it seemed as though a layer of frost had started to develop on my brow. She rolled over and looked at me, briefly, before casting her eyes to the floor. She pulled her panties up and locked her legs tightly against her body. She sniffled and wiped a lone tear from her eye, coming through her tangled hair with her fingers.

“Well,” I said, “thanks.”

She looked at me, appalled.

“Thanks?”

“You know,” I shrugged.

She shook her head and looked away from me.

“I will never understand you, Brian.”

“And I never want you to,” I replied.

She sat up and frowned at me.

“But I want to.”

I placed a hand on her cheek and smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Her face contorted, confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know. With me.”

She shook her head and sighed.

“Don’t get all crazy on me, now,” I said.

“I’m not.”

“You’re crazy like a fox.”

“Brian,”

The smile on my face dissipated and the sting of shame rolled over me again.

“I need to go,” I said.

“Why?”

“My mom needs to borrow my car for work.”

“It’s five in the morning. And why, all of a sudden, does she need your car the day that you come home for the holiday? You live in Greensboro, for fuck’s sake.”

The frost on my brow replaced the hot sting of guilt again. I panicked,

“I have to let the dog out,” I said. She frowned and got off of the bench, completely disheveled, nothing like the goddess I had witnessed before having fucked her. She walked up to me and stepped up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my mouth.

“Go home,” she said, a strong sense of sadness in her voice.

I kissed her cheek and patted her on the head like a child.

“Don’t worry. I still like you,” I said, pausing with a perverse grin, “I guess.”

She sighed and wrapped herself around me, an act of desperation she would often display in order to hold on to me as long as I’d allow her. Several moments passed before I peeled her off of me, turning my back to go.

“We should hang out while you’re in town. You know, like old times. We could catch up,” she said. I paused in the doorway of the car and turned to look at her.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, sighing. She smiled so broadly, I thought I might be ill.

“Okay!”

I opened the door of the streetcar and stepped out into the darkness, breathing the cold air into my lungs to clear my muddled mind. Calpurnia ran out after me and wrapped her arms around my midsection, burying her face between my shoulder blades, something she’d done to me since childhood.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. I sighed again.

“Yeah,” was all I could say. I broke free of her once more and walked to my car. She tagged along behind me and stood beside hers, watching me get inside and turn the key in the ignition. She stood there, so forlornly, as if it would be the last time she’d ever see me. I couldn’t stand how inadequate it made her appear. I rolled down the window and waved to her, about to pull off to make my way home. She rushed over to the window side and kissed me once more with fervor. To suffice her, I countered the sentiment.

“Drive safely,” she said, a heartbreaking smile on her face.

“Bye,” I said, waving once more before I rolled up the window and got back onto the road. As I drove off, I could see her standing there in the middle of the road, watching me drive away. I don’t think she moved a muscle until my car was out of her line of sight. Thirty-four minutes later, I sat parked in my mother’s apartment complex parking lot, watching the sun rise over the tree tops. I closed my eyes and let fatigue defeat me, slipping off to slumber to escape my guilty conscience.

I never called.

Et Tu, Brian, pt2

The days of summer were coming to a close, and soon, I’d be entering school for the first time. I hoped with all my might that there would be more than one classroom so that I would not be stuck with her again. One afternoon over grilled cheese sandwiches, I asked my mother about this. Calpurnia sat much too close to my left and sipped a glass of milk as I made my inquisition. Mother smiled,

“Well, Brian, they do have several different classes at your new school. There are three, I believe.”

Calpurnia put down her glass of milk and smiled so widely, I felt my stomach turn.

“But we are in the same one!” she said, ecstatically. I slumped in my chair and said nothing more for the rest of the day. Just my luck, I thought, she’ll never go away. Once we’d cleaned up and washed our hands, Mother sent us out to play. Calpurnia grabbed me by the hand and dragged me with her as she ran towards the hill in the back yard.

Upon reaching the edge, she pulled me close against her and kissed me on the mouth. I grew catatonic and she pulled away, looking at me with those wide blue eyes. She smiled at me and I felt my stomach turn again. Without a second thought, I vomited all over the grass, just barely missing her little white sandals. Calpurnia screamed and my mother called out to us, hobbling down from the porch to see what was happening. I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my t-shirt and looked up at Calpurnia, glaring.

“Are you okay?” She asked me. I pushed her to send her tumbling down the hill, but she grabbed a hold of me and took me along with her. She laughed and screamed and held onto me for dear life. To protect myself from bodily damage, I did just the same. I could hear my mother yelling for us as we tumbled down. We came to a halt when the earth grew flat.

I wriggled myself out of her grasp and stood immediately, dusting the blades of grass from my clothes. She lay on the grass, giggling still and rolling around like an infant.

“Brian, look! Grass angels!” she cried, moving her arms up and down as if she had wings. I rolled my eyes and headed for the hill to march home.

“Brian, wait!” she grabbed onto my ankles and sent me toppling down into the grass again. “Make angels with me!”

I sneered and pushed her.

“I hate you,” I said. She only smiled more.

“Na uh!”

“Ya huh!”

“My mommy says that when boys are mean, they like you!”

“I don’t!” I shouted, raising my little fists in the air like a heated gorilla.

“You like me! You like me! You like me!” she chanted in a sing-song voice.

“No, I don’t. Shut up!”

“You love me!” she entwined herself around me in such a fashion that I’d have needed a pair of industrial pliers to pry her off of me.

“Brian! Cally!” My mother called. Startled by the sound, she gasped and let go of me. The relief was exquisite to me, better than any of the sweet treats my father brought back from his journeys at sea. I ran up the hill with great haste, doing my damnedest to escape her, but she followed with such vehemence, the task proved near impossible. I reached the top of the hill, breathless. I paused for a moment to catch it just before I felt her tackle me from behind, knocking the wind out of me all over again. We fell to the ground as a unit and she laughed. I rolled over and glared at her.

“Stop!” I insisted.

“Make me!” she stuck her tongue out at me and crossed her arms.

My eye twitched and, without a second thought, I swung my little fist hard into her eye. She screamed and wailed at the top of her lungs, writhing on the ground in pain. I got up and walked away from her and back to my swing, lackadaisical, apathetic, unmoved by her suffering. My mother ran off of the porch, screaming my name bloody murder as she rushed to Calpurnia’s side. I began to swing back and forth, escaping my reality into a world of thought and dreaming.

“He hit me,” I heard her wail through choked tears, but thought nothing of it.

I swung higher and higher, imagining what the clouds would taste like if I could reach them, how the sun would feel if I could touch it, how the world would look if I were above it.

“Brian!”

I ignored her.

“Brian!”

Still tasting the clouds and swinging above the trees.

“BRIAN!”

My mother pulled the swing to a halt, forcing me to come back down to Earth. Calpurnia stood at her side, sniffling like the baby that she was. I looked at her, then at the girl.

“Get off of that swing this instant,” she demanded. I stared at her for a moment before climbing down.

“Why did you hit her?” she asked. My gaze shifted to the sniveling little princess. I could see a bruise starting to form at the site of my mean left hook. I frowned, slightly, then looked back at my mother, shrugging.

“Brian, under no circumstances do you hit!”

“She wouldn’t stop!” I snapped.

“No excuses. Do not do it ever again. Do you understand?”

Calpurnia wiped her nose on her little pink dress and pouted. I sighed, saying nothing more.

“Well, apologize.” My mother said.

“What?”

“Apologize! Say you’re sorry.”

I crossed my arms and kicked gravel across the ground.

“No,” I said, lowly.

“Brian, I am going to count to three. You’re already in trouble. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

I said nothing. Why be sorry for her faults? She’d brought it upon herself, after all, by irritating me so extensively.

“It’s okay, Brian. I still love you,” Calpurnia said. I raised my eyes to her to find her smiling. Somehow, that dopey grin coupled with her bruised, swollen face stirred a reaction in me. I felt the corners of my cheeks begin to burn as the muscles shifted. Somehow, the little princess had ushered a sickening smile out of me. I don’t know why nor how, but perhaps it had something to do with the twisted pleasure I gained from torturing her, yet always keeping her on my side. Perhaps this could prove useful for me as we entered school together. She would protect me, and I would give her the minutest pieces of myself to always make her beg for more. She’d do anything I said. Anything.

That night, upon the arrival of my father, I got the spanking of a lifetime. I think my backside was raw until the second month of kindergarten. The entire time, however, no matter how hard his hand met my skin, I did not flinch or shed a tear. I lay across the bed and took every lashing with a sense of pride. He taught me from a very early age to show no emotion, as many fathers often do their sons. Who knew how gravely it would affect me.

I lay in the bathtub that evening, letting my mind mull over the day as the bubbles swirled around me. I watched them dance, twirling around and around, waltzing, colliding, then evaporating into nothingness. In a way, it was exactly how I wished to be. I sank below the surface of the water and slowly opened my eyes. For a moment, the soap stung, but I recovered quickly. I glanced around, noticing how blurred and rippled everything now appeared, like a dream sequence in a bad movie. I saw my sponge creeping across the bottom of the tub, swimming like a bottom feeder, walking like a crab. I reached out to take a hold of it, but it slipped away from my reach. Not thinking, I breathed in a full mouth of air, taking the soapy water into my lungs.

I burst through the top of the water, gasping, choking, sputtering. Oh, I could feel the life draining from my very bones. I tried to shout, but could make no sound. I grabbed the bar of soap and threw it as hard as I could against the bathroom door, producing an epic thud. The air escaped me, the light turned to darkness. The end must have assuredly been nigh as I slipped below the water’s surface into slumber.

I woke in the same fashion I had gone to sleep: gasping, choking, sputtering. My father knelt above me, pushing on my chest. I looked to his left and saw my mother, sobbing and hugging her swollen belly. I blinked and took in a shoddy breath.

“He’s back, Janet,” my father said, resting a calming hand on my mother’s arm. She wailed and swallowed me in her arms like an infant.

“Oh, Brian. Thank God!” she sobbed. I shivered from the cold, still bare and wet. My mother wrapped me in a towel and dried my hair.

“Should we take him to the hospital?” she asked, “Brian are you all right?”
I looked at her, unmoved,

“I didn’t dream,” I said.
“What?”

“I went to sleep, but I didn’t dream. It was just dark.”

She did not respond to my statement, but simply carried me back to my bedroom and helped me into my pajamas. She kissed me on the forehead and stroked my hair.

“Get some rest, sweetie. You’ve got a big day ahead of you. School’s starting.”
She planted one last kiss on my forehead and closed the lights.

“Sweet dreams.”

I closed my eyes and drifted away to my most favorite of all places. Yes, I did dream in this sleep, and, oh, was it sweet. Who’d have known just how quickly I’d end up once again in the dark when my eyes opened with morning.

Et Tu, Brian, 1

Et Tu, Brian?

To JJW: The muse and inspiration for this project.
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Calpurnia was a whore, but she was my whore, and I hated her with every fiber of my soul. As children, she wrote her name in as a contender for the role of my best friend. Though she remained the uncontested candidate, I’d have nothing of it. Still, she clung to me like the pesky fungus she’d become, entwining her flimsy arms around my neck and kissing my cheeks with such innocence that I’d fling her to the ground. She’d roll around and giggle in the mud, failing to notice that I’d left her there to wallow in filth and squalor.

It didn’t stop there. Through grade school, she remained a horrid nightmare, torturing me to acknowledge her existence, coercing me to watch her skip rope, climb monkey bars, and build towers in the sand. It seemed that the more I detested her, the more she fawned on me. I could do nothing to be rid of her, and thus, succumbed to tolerate her as much as any person could. She was a ray of sunshine in my world of rain, and, quite frankly, I preferred my own personal brand of Seattle to her California Coast.

I suppose it’s best to begin this oh-so-tragic tale at its start. After all, how else will you even come close to understanding me and everything I am about to tell you? I don’t want you to draw your own conclusions about a damn thing. I don’t want you to try and evaluate what I’m going to say on a deeper, philosophical level – especially if you’ve got some smarmy professor requesting you to do so. It is what it is, and that’s exactly what I say it is. Don’t go looking for a deeper meaning when there isn’t one to find. This is my story, our story, and I’m in no way proud of it.

I know you’re bound to judge. It’s only human nature and I don’t give a shit. Most people don’t even have the gall to be as brutally honest as I am about to be. That being said, you owe me some amount of credit and respect. Yes, I’m a heartless bastard, yes, I’m a selfish prick. You don’t think I’m aware of these things, already? In any case, here’s the truth, so now you can hate me. But, please, do so with the utmost conviction and cause. Really, there is no other way to express such a powerful emotion without carrying it to the fullest extent. I’ve learned that through the course of my lifetime, all thanks to her.

She and I happened to be born on the same year, in the same hospital, and grew up in the same neighborhood. How we ended up so terribly different has always been an enigma to me, but not one that I ever cared too much about to really ponder. Our mothers became good friends, both being new to the game and, at the time, the only two with children in the neighborhood. They relied on one another for support and friendship, particularly since neither one of them had a goddamned clue what to do with us.

They’d sit for hours on our porch, sipping tea, discussing their latest discoveries on child rearing, clipping coupons, and trading recipes and gossip. They left me and Calpurnia to our own devices, sometimes with a set of blocks, play dough, or coloring books. Every single time I wanted to go off on my own with one of those toys, Calpurnia would begin to cry, wailing at the top of her lungs until I returned to her side. I only did it to shut her up. Truthfully, I could not have given a shit less if she feared abandonment. Apparently, that was something that would be bound to haunt her forever. It seemed that no amount of attention could suffice her, and because of that, I found myself permanently by her side. The two of us were inseparable, but not by choice. I would have much preferred my solitude, but she needed me. She needed me, and I absolutely loathed her for it. She had become a parasite, sucking the life from me because she could not survive on her own.

My father installed a swing set in our backyard one spring. Somehow, the carefree swaying soothed me, and swinging became a daily ritual of mine, rain or shine. I can’t tell you how furious I grew the moment my parents invited Calpurnia over to share it with me. She had infringed upon my time, my therapy, my escape. Mother stood barefoot and full-bellied on the porch, waving and smiling at us. She insisted that I be a gentleman and push the lady on the swing. I cannot convey to you just how livid it made me. Calpurnia laughed and screamed as I pushed her higher, higher, harder, harder. I wished she’d fly off of the damned thing and break her neck, but, of course, she never did.

“Brian, stop! No more! Too high! Wanna come down!” she’d yell, once she’d had enough. I kept pushing her until my mother hobbled down from the porch to stop me and give me a harsh scolding on my behavior.
“Sweetie, not so hard. You don’t want her to fly away, now, do you?”
I simply scowled and folded my arms across my chest. Calpurnia hopped off of the swing and ran to me, squeezing my midsection with fervor and burying her face between my shoulder blades.
“I was scared!”
“Say you’re sorry, sweetheart. Are you all right, Cally? Brian, apologize.”

I said nothing and refused to do so. Apologize? Whatever for? For something I’d felt strongly enough about to do? Never. My mother frowned and crossed over to me, pinching my ear, fiercely.
“Brian, apologize!”
I flinched only slightly, but my spirit remained inexorable. She turned to Calpurnia and smiled softly.
“Sweetie, why don’t you run inside and wash your hands? I’ll get you a juice box, okay?”
Calpurnia smiled and nodded before running off and up the stairs into the house. My mother took hold of me and dragged me across the gravel driveway until she was capable of sitting down upon a stair. She lifted me up onto her lap and looked me over, sternly.
“I will give you one more chance to go in there and say you’re sorry. You could have really hurt her, Brian. That is not acceptable. Will you go in and apologize, please?”
I said nothing. My mother sighed and flipped me over, pummeling my backside with the fierce palm of her hand. I did not cry or make a sound. I bit my lip with fervor as she smacked harder, but refused to succumb to the pain. I looked up onto the porch and saw Calpurnia there, crying in silence as my mother spanked me. A few moments later, she lifted me off of her lap and placed me on the gravel. It took her a moment to get off of the step, being so full with child, but she made her way up and noticed the girl standing there in tears.
“Oh, it’s okay, honey. He was being a bad little boy. That’s what happens to bad little boys. Now, come on, let’s dry those tears and get you some juice.”

She ushered her inside and closed the door, leaving me outside alone to stew over my so-called mistakes. I went back to my swing and let the motion carry me away. I watched the sun fall behind its curtain of sleep, painting the sky with an illustrious myriad of majestic wonders. I must have been out there for quite some time to have witnessed it all. I hopped down off of the swing and took one last look at the bright oranges, pinks, and reds above me before walking up the gravel driveway to the house.

My mother sat in the kitchen reading as a pot boiled on the stove. I crossed with caution to wash my hands, one habit she had fully instilled in me. To this day, I blame her incessant speeches on germs and hand washing and keeping things tidy for my obsessive compulsive disorder. Sure, she’d only meant well, but truly took it to an extreme.
“Daddy’s going to be late. He needed to stay later on watch duty,” she said, not even looking up at me from her reading. I made no response as I soaked my hands under the hot water. In a way, I somewhat enjoyed the excessive heat. When it nearly burned my skin, it offered a pleasurable tingling sensation, leaving my skin a lovely shade of red. I watched the steam rise off of the water as the temperature continued to climb too high even for my liking. I turned off the faucet and stepped down off of my stool. My mother remained engrossed in her reading and said nothing more to me until dinner was ready.

That night, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, allowing my mind to reflect on the day. I closed my eyes and listened to my breathing and the muted beating of my little heart. I was free of her, that pretty little leech that refused to release her grasp on me. These were the moments I valued most. I fell fast asleep and slipped off to dreamland, my haven, my escape. I knew, damn well, at 6:30 on the nose, she’d be back again: smiling, laughing, taking my hands in hers. She was every little boy’s worst nightmare, a pretty little blonde doll, always dressed in pink, with wide blue eyes full of wonder, and a heart of gold. Yes, she was somethin’, all right. I think I may have dreaded that moment more than death itself. Scratch that. I did.

Eating me alive

I have to confess that, regardless of the frame of time that has passed, I am still upset about everything that happened between us. It makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever, and I feel as though I am owed at the very least a proper goodbye and apology. I do not know what I did to merit such disrespect and disregard from this individual. I thought that I dealt nothing but kindness his way, so, why did he just randomly fade from my life?

You have no idea what kind of scars you have left on me. Every last thing I begged you not to do to me, you did. I BEGGED you, and you did them, anyway! How can one heart be so callous to one that has been so pure? I loved you with every bit of my soul, and who knows why. You hardly even acknowledged my existence. I would have laid down my very life for you, and you couldn't even pick up the phone. Funny how this always seems to happen to me. Why couldn't you just tell me you didn't want to see me again? You'd have hurt me, but in a much lesser fashion. Now, I am so unbelievably bitter, jaded, and wounded that it's going to take even longer than the last time for me to trust someone. How could you? After everything I did for you? After all that I gave to you?

My love for you was pure and unconditional. It was consumate and honest on all levels. I wanted to see the world with you, and for some time, I stupidly thought we'd have a chance to take on this great adventure of life as a unit. What a fool I was. You aren't even capable of infatuation. How dare I be so bold as to suggest a journey together? God, I am an idiot. How could I fall so passionately in love with such a confused, apathetic man? You really had me fooled. I honestly believed that you and I fit together - in some sense. Perhaps not romantically, but you were, and remain, a dear friend to me. A dear friend that I think of daily, but will most likely never see again.

It truly pains me to have lost your presence. You have no idea how much you've meant to me in these past five months. You have truly be a beacon of light in my world of constant darkness. That's why you were my Sunshine. I know that there is a good reason you and I crossed paths, even if it was so fleeting. You have no idea the wonderful effect you have had on me, regardless of this exquisite and intolerable pain that I now suffer on your behalf. I have a direction, I have a purpose, I have a cause, and for that, I am grateful to you. You have shown me the beauty in life's spontaneity, in simplicity and reason. You have opened the door to so many extraordinary things for me, and I thank you.

My one wish is that you were still here to watch everything blossom. You have given me the courage that I knew I possessed, but simply needed assistance to bring to life. You are a blessing to me, and I will never regret the beautiful moments in my life that I shared with you. As hurt as I am by what you have done, I love you so greatly. It may not necessarily be of a romantic inclination, but I value you. I see inside of you and know your worth, I know your greatness, your wonderment. It is being suppressed by fear. What astounding potential you possess! I know that it is within you, but you hide behind defense mechanisms to protect yourself from this callous, harsh world. I know you have the capacity to feel, to care, even to love. It only takes kindness and coaxing to procure. I wanted more than anything to be the one to help you let that out and shine. I still have faith in you. There is not a single day that passes where I do not think of you.

I promised you that I would never give up on you, and I will not. You may have forgotten me, ex-communicated me, denounced me from your life, but I'll do no such thing to you in mine. You are precious to me, and if ever you need anything, I will always be here for you. That is the truth. No matter how much pain I suffer from our situation.

I will love you always for what you have helped me realize and achieve. You have no idea how grateful I am for you. I wish you all of the happiness in this world, all of the best luck with your endeavors, and pray that we meet again in this lifetime. It doesn't matter how or why, but you are my dear friend, and I treasure you. I wish you were still present in my life. While I certainly do not need you to find happiness, you did add much needed laughter to my life.

Please, don't be a stranger. My life is truly beautiful, but I'll confess, it's much more fun with people like you in it. I hope you'll return in some way or another. You are amazing, and I will forever think the best of you. Come what may.

So long, and goodnight.

It's really difficult for me to write about this, especially in a public forum, however, under the circumstances, it is a very life altering event that will change me forever. As most of you are aware, I have been very challenged as of late with regards to the twists and turns life offers. I have lost so many things that were precious and vital to my existence, as well as something that I wasn't even aware of until I lost it.

It was late on a Sunday evening, and I had just returned from a movie with my latest [and I suppose now former] flame. As always, I'd had a wonderful time in his presence. My body had been acting somewhat strangely for the past several days, but I thought little of it. Upon arriving to my apartment, I ran up and rushed into the restroom. I was covered in blood from the waist below. Now, I'm not talking menstrual, for all you boys horrifically disgusted at present. I had no idea what was going on. I was in absolutely horrible pain, as well. I was up all night with this affliction, and decided to go to the Clinic down on St. Paul Street the next day to find out what was happening.

I took a pregnancy test and the result was positive. I had an ultrasound and discovered that I had been pregnant, but suffered an early pregnancy loss, at less than six weeks. I had no idea how to react to this. I'd been on birth control for three years. The last period I had before this was barely a day, and I'd noticed some breakthrough bleeding beforehand. My body had grown too accustomed to the hormones, and thus, they ceased to work efficiently.

I went home and tried to take my mind off of things. I wanted to pretend it didn't exist, that it hadn't happened, but I was in too much pain to forget about it. This pain continued for the next 5 days, as well as the bleeding. I spent several nights awake from it, and from being so distraught about my lover not wanting me. My hormones and emotions were on a whirlwind of a roller coaster throughout the duration of this travesty. I ended up getting laid off from my job because they accused me of sleeping on the job. I had a nervous breakdown in the office upon being told this news. I didn't need anything else to be taken from me.

What made matters worse was that, in a matter of days, my lover discarded me, as well. It seems, however, he'd intended to do so for over a month, just never had the gall to say so, directly. I also had to vacate my apartment, due to financial crisis. I had nothing left in the world.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted the baby to have lived. I would have never asked my boyfriend to take any part in its life, though. He has enough to worry about and I wouldn't want to burden him with myself anymore, or our creation. I knew it would have been difficult, but I would have done everything in my power to love and care for that child. After all, it was a part of the man I love so well to this day. There is not one day that passes where I don't think about it. I can't seem to be saddened by it, and brought to tears. If only I had known before it was too late. Maybe I could have saved it. I never imagined that I could want to be a mother. Especially at this point in my life, if ever. But the moment I found out about it, I never wanted anything more.

Last week, my friend John took me downstairs to the morgue to show me a dead fetus. He opened the bag and there it lay, so tiny, only 6oz, curled up and forever asleep in a white knitted blanket with an angel pinned to the side. I stared at it and had to fight the tears with all my might. It broke my heart. For the rest of that day, the thought of it haunted me. I'll confess, it still does.

I wish I'd been more responsible. I wish I'd been able to discover this sooner. I wish I could have saved it. I know, I couldn't have given it the life it deserved, but that doesn't mean someone else couldn't have. My baby, I miss you. I wish I could have done you better. No matter what, I will always love you, even though I never had the chance to hold you.

I will love you forever, my most precious blessing. I'm so sorry...

Letting out the demons.

More often than not, I use this blog in order to post pieces of fiction in the hopes that they will be read and critiqued. I suppose, however, under the circumstances, what I'm about to write could be construed as just another work of fiction, as I have created this mess inside of myself and am allowing it to explode out of me. It is something that has caused me great unrest, something I have fought valiantly, and denied with every living cell in my being.

Every single day, I pine, and pine, and pine, over this man who cannot be obtained. Every time I tell myself I'm going to quit and give up and replace him, I find myself entirely incapable of doing so. It is absurd and impractical, but I love him more than words could ever make clear, and always will until he leaves my life. This has grown into something so inexorably toxic for me, and yet, I don't wish the illness to be cured. I want to be sick with this passion forever. My one wish is, however, that one day, some way, he returns my fervor with a even the slightest shred of emotion.

In truth, I never once believed that things would progress to this level with him, but here I am, tangled in the throes of it all, consumed, devoured. Every second I am left to my own devices, I assure you that he is on my mind. I have tried with such vehemance to deny my feelings, because I know you have said you never wish to love or be loved, you have never once in your time on Earth found a woman who has infatuated you.

I'll never fully understand you, but I'll always do my best to try. I will love you forever, if only you'll let me, and even if you won't, I think I still may. I haven't felt this close to someone in 6 years. You have revived the dead in my sullen bones, and allowed the life to once again run through me. You are the light at the end of the tunnel, my salvation, my greatest hope and joy. If only I could tell you all of this without running you off.

I would give most anything to share my days with you. You are most precious to me, and I will forever be grateful for your presence in my life. I know you have so much going on in your life, but if you ever had a spare moment, I hope you'd think of me.

I miss you terribly when you aren't near. But it terrifies me to even fathom what would happen if I confessed how deeply I care for you. It's not what you want, and I should have known better than to have gotten attached. Even if I shouldn't, I will always be here. It's out of my control. I am driven by something that no human being could possibly be capable of creating or maintaining. It is a love so deadly, a love so pure, a love that will never falter or fail.

I am lost. I wish you'd let me make a home in your arms. Where my heart is...

Zebracakes

My mother once told me that making babies was like making cakes. You had to have the right ingredients at the right time, mix them well, and make sure that they stayed in the oven long enough to come out just the way you wanted them. But I wasn't trying to make a cake. I was just trying to have a good time with the man I loved. Though, by law, I wasn't supposed to love him.

I peeked my head out from under a blanket in the backseat of his coupe Deville.

"How much longer until we're in Chicago?" I asked. Ezra turned slightly from the wheel to look at me.

"Blanche, baby, you gotta stay under that blanket," he warned, "we still got a long ways. We just hit Missouri, after all."

I sank back under the blanket and scowled to myself.

"Well, hurry up, already. We're gonna be hungry soon." I said, smiling as I rubbed my growing belly.

"There's some biscuits my mama made in a basket back there. You go on and help yourself. Just be careful."

"All right."

I slid my pale arm from under the blanket, grabbing a few of the biscuits and quickly gobbling them up.

"Any good?" Ezra asked.

"Why, you know far well I enjoy your mama's cookin'!" I replied, rubbing his dark forearm. I peeked out of the blanket to get a good look at him and his big, bright smile.

"I love you baby," he said.

"Why, I love you, too!" I replied.

"Now, put that pretty arm away. Don't want us to get caught now, do ya?"

"No," I sighed, "I just wish I could touch ya."

"You and me both, Blanche," he said, the smile now faded from his face.

I stared up at the sunlight that beamed through the blanket.

"It's quite hot in here. Might we be able to roll down some windows?" I asked.

"Sure thing."

The breeze hit the tips of my toes, but the sweat still poured down my back.

"Is there any way I can take this darn thing off? It's still too hot." I pulled aside the corner of the blanket to reveal my eyes. Ezra sighed.

"It just ain't safe, baby. I'm sorry."

"Oh, please, darlin'," I insisted, "Can't we find some place cool to relax, at least?"

"I'll try to find somewhere. But the longer we stay on the road, the faster we'll be there."

"That's true. And I do wish to be married."

I examined the ring he'd given me, remembering my Daddy's reaction back in Arkansas when Ezra'd asked for my hand.

"I'm gettin' married!" I rejoiced, showing off the precious ring to my mother. Daddy put down his bottle of whiskey.

"That's lovely, Blanche!" my mother said, "Isn't that just lovely, George?" She asked my Daddy. He came over and snatched my wrist, examining my hand.

"So, you finally agreed to Tommy Stout's proposal?"

I paused, feeling my stomach drop and my heart jump into my throat.

"Well, no," I hesitated, "there was someone else I've been seeing for about three years."

I saw my mother's face flush and my Daddy's contort with confusion.

"Three years? You been seein' someone for three years and didn't tell us nothin' about it?"

My younger brother Georgie smirked, chuckling to himself. Daddy looked at him.

"What's so funny, boy?"

"Nothin'," he lied, winking at me. Daddy turned to me.

"What are you tryin' to hide, Black?" he asked, folding his burly arms. I swallowed hard.

"I don't know."

"Don't you lie to me, girl."

"She's been fooling around with that nigger who works at the dance hall," George interjected. My mother gasped, Daddy's face went red, and I began to sweat.

"Is that so, miss?" he asked, his voice cool, yet furious.

"Daddy, he loves me, I --"

"I don't give a damn. No child of mine's to associate with that abomination of a race. You think I want it gettin' around that my daughter wants to marry a goddamn nigger?"

My lip quivered.

"Daddy, please--"

"You make me sick, child," he snarled, "You ain't marryin' that boy. You're marryin' Tommy Stout, and that's final."

"But I don't love Tommy Stout!" I shouted, "I love Ezra, and so help me, I'll spend my life with him."

"Blanche," my mother interjected.

"Helen, you stay out of this," Daddy snapped. He grabbed my arm and clenched it, "You tell him no, girl."

"I will do no such thing."

"Then, get out," he said.

"George, please don't do this," my mother wailed.

"Don't defend what she does, Helen. Layin' with that filth."

"George! Please don't say that about our daughter."

"Daughter?" he laughed, "I have none."

I glared at him.

"He's right. He doesn't."

I frowned upon recollecting the story, then felt the car come to a halt.

"What's going on Ezra?" I asked. He shut off the engine and stepped out of the car, taking a look around the cool, wooded area in which he'd parked. I peeked out from under the blanket.

"I'd say we're safe. Come on, lemme help you out of that hot car, baby."

I smiled as he cautiously lifted me from it and placed me on the damp ground.

"This is wonderful!" I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. I stood on bare tip-toes and kissed his lips as though it'd been ages. In all honesty, I'm quite sure it had been.

"You hungry?" he asked, stroking my belly.

"Goodness, yes!" I replied.

"Good, me, too. Let's have a quick bite 'fore getting back on the road. I think I've kept you cooped up in that car far too long."

He kissed me again and flashed his big, bright smile, creating a domino effect. Inside, I knew our child smiled, too. He laid a blanket on the dewy grass and urged me to sit. Curtsying, I obliged and sank to the banket, closing my eyes as a cool breeze blew threw my wavy, blonde hair. Ezra placed a cooler onto the blanket and sat across from me.

"And what do we have today, my fine gentleman?" I asked with a smile. Ezra slid his fingers between mine.

"I'd say a banquet, but I fear I'd be lyin'," he said, "but we do got some good stuff."

"Oh?" I asked. He kissed my hand.

"Mmmhmm."

"Do tell!"

He laughed and opened the box.

"It ain't much, but I hope for you and the baby's sale it's enough."

"Well, I'm sure it will be," I said, "though I think he may eat more than I ever could!"

Ezra laughed and handed me a sandwich.

"Eat up. We need to get back on the road, baby."

As darkness fell on the road, I huddled and shivered beneath the blanket. I could feel the temperature drop as we neared the North. Ezra'd closed all the windows, yet I still had trouble feeling my toes.

"You sure you're ready for Chicago?" he asked, "It's mighty cold up there. I hear, sometimes, it gets below zero. And the wind, well, that's another story."

"You know I'd take it just to be with you," I replied, hugging myself to get warm.

"I sometimes wonder why."

I scowled,

"Oh, hush. You know how I love you, Ezra."

"Yes, and I ain't complainin' a bit, missy. I just worry sometimes."

"Why?"

"Well, just the troubles I've brought on you and your family."

I grumbled.

"Oh, what do they know, anyhow?"

"I know how much they mean to you. You can't deny them."

I sighed.

"Yeah, but it just isn't right. Who's to say who we fall in love with? God put us together, 'cuz it was in His plan."

"Shame they don't see that," Ezra replied.

"If they were true Christians, they would."

"Amen," he asserted.

We drove along in silence, but my thoughts could not offer me the company I desired.

"Ezra?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you turn on the radio, please? I'd love to hear some music. If it's not a bother to you."

"No bother, at all," he said, turning on a station. I smiled and sang along with the music. I could sense the joy on Ezra's face as I did so.

"That's my baby," he said to himself, "listen to that voice! You could be a real star in Chicago, Blanche. A real star."

"Oh, hush!" I insisted, blushing. "That's not why we're going there."

"I know," he said, "but it could happen."

I giggled and sang along a bit more. Ezra yawned.

"We need to find a place to pull over or something," he said, "I'm mighty tired."

"Yes," I agreed, "you've been driving for so long. You need some good sleep."

"I'll find a motel."

"How can we make that work?" I asked, sitting up slightly.

"Well, my Daddy once told me, as was once told him, 'where there's a will, there's a way.' And you know, it's true."

"All right," I sighed, biting my lip.

"Besides, I'm not having my pregnant woman sleepin' in the back of this coupe Deville anymore."

"Well, I don't mind so much," I insisted.

"I do. You deserve better."

"So do you."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, but I don't feel like arguin' with you."

I sighed and closed my heavy eyelids.

"Wake me when we get there."

We lay together in the warmth of the motel room bed. Ezra's large arms encircled my body, his hands gently pressed against my belly. I leaned my head back against his body, nuzzling him. I smiled to myself and envisioned the times to come when our bodies would keep each other warm night after night. I slid my fingers into his and closed my eyes. He kissed the top of my ear and whispered beautiful things to me, lulling me to rest as the moon shone down on us through the grubby window.

"Get up!" a rough voice shouted. My eyes burst open and I felt the blankets pulled from my body. A group of men rushing into the room and pulled me from Ezra.

"What's all this?" He bellowed.

"Oh, you know damn well," a short man snapped as he set his goons on my man. I sat on the edge of the bed, covering myself with a pillow, trembling and speechless.

"Get off me!" Ezra yelled, fending them off of himself with ease.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, girl," the man said to me, "running off with a nigger with a nigger baby in your belly."

With that, I rose off the bed and slapped him hard across his ugly face.

"Ezra, let's get out of here!" He nodded and quickly slid on his denims. I slid a dress over my head and took his hand. We rushed out of the motel, the goons closely behind us. Ezra opened the car and pushed me inside.

"Go, go, go!" he shouted.

"I'm not leavin' this spot without you," I cried. He took a moment to reflect my words, a poor choice on his behalf. Police swarmed the scene and grabbed him. But my man never went down without a fight. When they tried to cuff him, he pushed them off with great force. I started to get out of the car.

"Blanche, you stay put!" he insisted. I frowned, but obeyed.

While he yelled at me, an officer whacked him hard on the skull, knocking him to the ground. I screamed and rushed out of the car towards the action.

"Stop!" I cried, "Get away from him!"

I attempted to push past the officers, but a woman so far along in pregnancy just can't muster the strength. I watched them kick him and beat him as he tried to break free from their brutality. I just kept screaming and struggling to get to him. Bruised, battered, and bloodied, my Ezra got cuffed and dragged to the squad car. The officer spat.

"You're going away for a while, boy. Time to teach you a lesson. Don't touch our women."

Ezra closed his eyes and his head collapsed against his bare chest. I broke free and rushed to him.

"Don't let 'em hurt you," he whispered, "don't let 'em hurt neither of you."

I bit my lip and reached out for him as they threw him into the back of the car. I called out to him, but he did not look at me. He gently raised his head,

"Wait for me," he whispered. The officer slammed the door of the car and turned to me as I pressed my fingers to the window.

"You best be on your way, miss," he suggested. I glared at him.

"You're scum." I growled. He laughed, shook his head and hopped into the car.

I stood, barefoot, in the middle of the dirt parking lot, watching the squad car kick up dust as it drove off and away from me. A few moments passed until it had faded from sight, leaving only a large cloud of dust as a reminder of what had happened. I examined my engagement ring and place a hand on my giant belly. My sore eyes drifted across the ground, cursing the soil on which the entire ordeal had occurred.

"Some land of the free," I sneered, letting my head fall in defeat.

I looked around me, seeing nothing but the same old dust cloud and a distinct silver glimmering a few feet away on the ground. As the dust cleared, I realized that Ezra's car keys lay on the ground before me. I paused a moment, then picked them up from the dirt. I jingled them between my fingers and examined them with care. I looked over at the car, back at the keys, and then at the cloud of dust that had followed the squad car. Without another thought, I hopped into the car, started it and drove off into the dust.

"Wait for me," I whispered.

This is the beginning of my series of vignettes.

Okay, picture this:

It's 1975. I'm a rebel youth who hates her mother and seeks to escape and defy her for the first time in my life. So, what do I do? Find a destination, pack my bags, and leave. Where do I go? Well, where else? London, England: at the rise of the punk scene.

Being a foreigner and only seventeen with fifty-five dollars to your name is no way to do this. Trust me. So, in saying that, I made it to England fucked by the time zone, fucked with no place to go, and fucked because, you guessed it, my luggage got lost. What the piss could I do?

I walked around the streets for hours, confused and very lost. I have no idea where I was or what the hell I was doing here with no way to get back home safe to Mommy Dearest. The money I'd converted into pounds wasn't even half of what I'd originally had, thereby adding to the fucked factor. So, on the verge of tears, I headed into a local pub to get something to eat.

As soon as I entered the pub, I got looks from some of the men at the bar. I had on a short yellow and black plaid dress, leggings, ratty Doc Martens, and a blazer, after all. The looks were pretty much asked for because I looked like a tramp.

I did my best to avoid the wandering eyes as I stepped up to the counter to order.
"Can I get an order of fries, please?" I asked. The guy behind the counter wrinkled his nose at me and continued to clean out a bar glass.
"Wot?" he inquired in a thick Cockney accent.
"Fries. An order of fries. You have them, don't you?"
He shook his head,
"Sorry, girly. Don't speak American here."
"I, well, damn it." I sighed, defeated, and turned to go when a young guy about twenty grabbed me.
"She'll have chips." He told the man behind the counter.
"Ah, right, right!" He responded and went to get them from the fryer.

"You must be new here, then." The young guy said to me, scratching his head of shaggy, banana yellow hair. I nodded and scuffed my shoe along the floor, staring down at it.
"Yeah, just got here this morning. I don't know shit about this country, either."
My words caused him to laugh heartily.
"Ah, you're fucked, girly."
"You're telling me. I've got nothing but the clothes on my back and thirty pounds. The airport lost my luggage."
"Well, piss," he stated, eyebrows highly arched, "that's fuckin' awful. You got anywhere to stay?"
I looked up at him.
"Are you kidding? Fuck no."

A few moments passed between us before he spoke.
"Can you sing?"
"Excuse me?" I replied, taken back a bit.
"Can you sing? Me and some of my mates are tryin' to start a band. We can't find a fuckin' singer, though."
My eyes widened. Of course I could sing. I grew up on music and was pretty damn skilled with it, too.
"Hell yes, I can sing."
He smiled,
"Great! Come for an audition, after you eat them chips, that is."
"Are you serious?" I asked, incredulous.
"Absofuckinglutely, girly," He responded, still smiling.
"Okay, I will." I replied, broadening his smile.
"Great! I'm Ian, by the way. It's a pleasure." He extended his hand, so I took it.
"Flora."
"'Ey, girl! Chips are ready." The guy yelled. I started to go toward the counter, but Ian stopped me.
"It's on me, Flora. Welcome to England."
I smiled broadly.
"Thanks."
"Yeah, yeah, sure!" he responded cheerfully while passing the guy two pounds, fifty pence.

After eating the fries, Ian took me back to his small flat.
"Hey, hey!" he called upon entering. This place was pretty cruddy and a lot lower than what I was used to, but it was comfortable. Two boys around Ian's age walked into the room: one short with electric blue hair and freckles, and the other slightly taller with brown hair, brown eyes, and hip bones that could stab you if you got too close to them. These boys stood there, looking at me in awe.
"Mikey, Keith, this is Flora. She's new to England and she's going to try out for the band."

The boy with electric blue hair tried not to smile as he nodded.
"Right, right. We'll get to it. What you like?" he asked me, causing me to grimace.
"I don't know. Alice Cooper, Sabbath, stuff like that." My words forced him to break out into a smile.
"Alice Cooper! Keith, put on that record. Sing for us, Floie." Mikey urged. I felt a puke festival coming on at his words, but did as he'd instructed.

I did my best to impress these boys, who could make or break my future here in England. I flailed my arms around and stomped my foot to the beat, wailing with the record. Keith pulled the needle from the record and looked at the other guys.
"We've got a fuckin' singer." he stated as the others nodded in agreement.
"Seriously?" I questioned.
"Shit, yes. You're fucking perfect, Flo."
"And a nice piece of arse." Mikey muttered lowly to himself, but only I heard him. I smiled.
"Great! I'm excited." I exclaimed. Ian smiled.
"You can stay here if you'd like." He informed me.
"But I don't have any money." I responded.
"S'awright. Welcome to the land of squatting. Just buy us a keg every two weeks. That'll cover it."
"Okay!" I cheered, "Thank you so much."
"It's good to have you." He replied. Mikey smirked evilly to himself which caused Keith to hit him.
"Naff off, Mike." he muttered.
"Ah, fuck you, Keith!" Mikey responded.
"Lovely family." Ian stated and placed a hand on my shoulder, "and just look at what we've added to it." his words caused me to smile.

I slept on the floor in the band room with all the instruments and an old sheet as a blanket. I picked up a job at a local grocery a few streets away, offering me just enough to buy the kegs for the boys and a little clothing for myself.

"To The Clit Riders!" Ian stated, raising his glass.
"I know there's one I want to ride." Mikey muttered, lowly, and looked at me. I cringed discreetly.
"To The Clit Riders!" We drank and then Keith raised his glass again.
"To Floie, and welcome to England!"
"Floie!" They cheered.

For once in my life, I was perfectly content. I didn't have the nagging hand of my mother over me. Hell, I barely even remembered her anymore.

Good things never last. It's too true. And while our band was playing shows twice a week, there was hell at the house. I came home one night with my last paycheck from the grocery store and knew that I had to find some way to get a new job to buy the kegs. When I told Ian and the boys that I'd lost my job and was having trouble finding a new one, they told me not to worry about it. We weren't getting paid much for gigs and the boys didn't all work - how could I not worry?
"How will I make up for it?" I asked Keith. He looked at me strangely and pulled me against his razor sharp hips.
"There's a way, Floie." he said softly and pulled my face to his to kiss me roughly. So, that was it. The boys found a way for me to make up for lack of rent and passed me back and forth whenever they needed me. Everyone but Ian knew what was going on.

One night, right before our last show together, Mikey pulled me backstage and told me to be quiet. He pressed me against a wall and slid his hand up my skirt, which led me to bite my lip and grimace. I was nothing more than a cheap fuck to these boys and I should have known that from the start.
"Shh," Mikey coaxed, slipping his fingers inside of me, "you be quiet for me, Floie."
I closed my eyes, but didn't struggle. Then, Ian's voice broke the silence.
"What the fuck is going on?" He shouted, forcing Mikey to back away.
"She ain't paying rent, Ian."
I looked into Ian's eyes, shattering, and saw the same look in them.
"Go and get ready, Mikey. We're on in ten," he instructed, sending Mikey away. I turned my face from him and started to go, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
"After all I fucking did for you, fucking slag! No fucking respect for anyone. Not even yourself."
"Ian, please, I - "
"Shut up, shut up. Just shut the fuck up! I gave you everything, and you tossed it into the rubbish."
"I'm sorry," I whimpered as he stormed away.

We played the worst show ever that night, and then Ian fucked me in the toilet.
"Did Keith fuck you this hard? Did Mikey like the feel of your mouth on his cock? Did he?" he snarled something along those lines, smacking my head against the wall as tears rolled down my face.
"Stupid cunt." he sneered and spat on me before leaving me ruined on the dirty linoleum. I sat up and grabbed some tissue to wipe the spunk off of my inner thighs, fixed myself, and walked out. The boys had already left and the next band was on: a five-piece called The Filthy Sckuf.

The lead-singer had the most obnoxious voice I have ever heard, and the band could barely play, but their presence amazed me. Convincing myself that I'd have a place to sleep that night, I ordered a pint and watched them play and almost got spit on by the bassist. When they finished, I had both a feeling of relief and a rush of uneasiness. The snide singer burped loudly and came over to the bar.
"'Ey, man, get me a pint, then." he sneered, spitting across the room. I cringed and turned away from him as he started coughing horrendously and the bar keep passed him a pint.

"How come he didn't have to pay?" I demanded, appalled.
"Cos he's a performer."
"So what? That's not fair. I played here, too."
The snide singer downed his pint and looked at me.
"Oh, fuck off. Your music's shit anyway." As he said this, my jaw dropped to the floor and I threw the rest of my pint in his face.
"Fuck you, it's all I've got! You can't even sing!"
He growled at me and pushed me, then spat on me.
"And you sing too pretty. You're a fucking fraud."

I jolted from the floor and pushed him against a wall.
"Don't you call me a fraud." I told him in an icy tone. His deep blue eyes raged with fury.
"I don't hit birds, dearie, but you're fuckin' pushin' it."
I sneered and slapped him.
"You don't have any idea what I've already been through tonight."
"Baby, you don't know what I've been through in my life." He shot back.

The bassist came over cheering, with a forty ounce beer in his hands.
"Hey, John! You gonna have it off with her, then?" He laughed and sipped his beer.
"Close yer gob, Alfie, for fuck's sake." he snapped, but Alfie didn't lose his smile.
"Right, right! Hey, Dave, Charlie, Jimbo!" He called to the other members of the band before joining them, despite the fact that they were too busy with a group of girls to notice him.

I looked back at John,
"You gonna let me go, or you gonna keep me pinned to this wall all night and waste my time?" he snarled and I raised a brow.
"What's the matter with you? You don't like being pinned to a wall by a girl? Are you too much of a pussy to push me off?"
John glared at me and pushed me hard then brushed past me.
"Cunt." he grumbled under his breath as he lumbered off towards the rest of the band, but I followed him.
"Piss off!" he shouted, "what do you care if I got a pint for free? Christ, you're blowing everything out of proportion!"
"You called me a fraud." I glowered.
"You are," he began, "but we all are in our own way. 'Cept me. I'm realer than real."
"I think you're just a cocky bastard." I retorted, coldly, sending him a mean sneer. He raised his fist, and as he was about to hit me, Alfie grabbed him arm.
"Come on, John. Stop actin' about! Buy the bird a drink."
John looked at him as though he'd lost it.
"Yeah, man! Save the abuse for a bunk-up!" Charlie, the curly blonde drummer, called before clinking his glass against the two guitarists' and downing his pint.
"I wouldn't shag this bird." John grumbled and spat on the floor in my direction.
"Oh, bollocks!" Alfie exclaimed, incredulous, "you'd hop into her knickers in a flash!"

John shook his head and started swearing to himself.
"I'm fucking out of here. I'll see you tomorrow, mates," he looked at me, "hope I never see you again." He snarled and gave me the look of death.
"You lie, John. But don't worry; I'll be at every gig you play from now on." I kissed him hard on the lips and the band cheered. When I pulled away, I noticed just how red his had become, and smirked to myself, then patted his cheek.
"Goodnight." I cooed before putting on my blazer and walking out of the club.

I left in a haughty manner, overly proud of myself for creating such a scene, but the magic didn't last. I took no more than five steps when I saw Keith approaching me with a duffle of my things.
"What's going on?" I panicked.
"Ian wants you gone. Don't come back no more, Floie."
"But, why?"
Keith threw the duffle at me.
"He don't like sharin'," be began, "wanted you for himself."
"What?"
"He wanted you for himself." He repeated and spat on my shoes before walking away.

I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, letting the news sink in. I was homeless, now. I had no money, no job, no food, no home. No one would even give a damn about that. Defeated, I sank onto the sidewalk, pressing my back against the brick, and hugged my knees tightly to my chest. I heard loud, garbled voices coming from the club, and soon, The Filthy Sckuf emerged, singing in a drunken stupor. They didn't even see me. I noticed that John was not with them, and too soon after that observation, I heard that awful cough and spit routine. He walked out of the club and spat on the sidewalk then started to walk in my direction, so I buried my head in my knees.

"What you doing down there, then?" he asked, "don't you want to go home to your boys and have a bunk-up?"
I bit my lip.
"I can't go home, and, unfortunately, I've had to fuck them for the past four months cos I couldn't get a job for rent." I said softly and looked up at him.
"You're joking," he stated, incredulous and slightly appalled.
"No, I'm not." I replied and got up then picked up my duffle, "I don't have a clue where I'm going now, but I've got to go find somewhere to go."
I began to walk away, but he called,
"Hey! Wait!" and I turned around as he rushed over to me, "you want to come to my gaff tonight? It's not much, but it's better than a gutter - well, maybe not, but, it's a place to sleep."
"You're really unpredictable, John." I told him, shaking my head, "Christ, I thought you hated me."
"No, I don't hate," he started, "I just make people think I do so they fuck off." He smiled queerly at me.
"Would you really give me a place to stay for a little while?" I questioned.
"Yeah, sure. I think I can stand you for an hour or two."
I sneered and hit him playfully.

"Come on, get the fuck, the train stops runnin' in twenty minutes." He grabbed my wrist and tugged me down the street towards the station.
"But I don't have any money." I told him.
"Christ, you've been in England for over a year and you don't know how the subway works? Watch and learn, girly." He looked quickly around the station then bolted under the turnstile, taking me with him.
"Ouch." I whimpered and rubbed my head.
"Yeah, that happens sometimes. Come on."
We rushed down to the terminal and hopped onto the train seconds before the doors shut.
"Christ, what a rush." John stated, attempting to catch his breath, "What the fuck is your name, by the way?"
"I'm Flora." I responded and he shook his head.
"Fucking Americans."

When we got to his building, I could not believe how filthy his apartment was, and how little like a home it looked. He had no real furniture other than a few ratty cushions, a television, and a tipsy cardboard box with a few half-filled bottles of booze and an ashtray.
"Ah, home," he proudly said, "you'll meet the flatmates soon enough." he informed me.
"Who else lives here?" I asked causing John to grin.
"Oh, you know, the roaches, the rats, some mice. They don't hurt you if you don't hurt them."
I cringed discreetly at his words and simply nodded.

John stretched out on the cushions and lit a cigarette, but I stood still and looked around, nervously, for the flatmates.
"Mind if I shower?" I inquired. He shrugged.
"Do what you want. Just don't leave any girly products lying about." He responded and turned on the TV.

I wanted to wash all of my skin off, just peel away the layers until I was just bone. I don't know how long I was in there, but I turned into a lobster. I just stood there and let the water hit me, just staring at the grimy tile wall. John came into the toilet and yelled,
"Hey, Flora! You've been in there for twenty minutes! Come on, then!"
But I made no response. I sank to the bottom of the tub and let the tears run down my face, washed away by the water, over and over, but they didn't stop flowing.
John called again and when I made no response, he pulled the shower curtain and saw me there, sitting down, curled up, and crying.

Something changed in his face at that moment, for he, too, looked as sore as I was. He turned off the water and wrapped me in a towel, then he helped me out of the shower.
"Don't let those cunts ruin your life, Flora. Don't let the bastards win." He urged. My head fell against his shoulder and I wrapped my arms around him, but he did not respond to me. He slowly patted me on the back and left me to dress.

A month or so went by, and I told John I was going to find another place to go since I felt I had outworn my welcome. As I opened the door and took one step out, he stopped me.
"Don't go."
I turned to look at him, but before I could say anything, he pulled me inside, slammed the door, and stared at me. "You're staying." he declared, eyes firmly fixed on mine. I went to speak, but he pulled me into his arms and kissed me fervently, honestly, and I returned the kiss in the same manner. A spark had grown into a fire between us.

I didn't leave that day, or the next, or the next. I didn't want to; because even though Johnny and I had nothing more than each other, it was all we needed. And all I'd ever wanted.