3
Chase
The first time I remember being in a car was with them. Evan drove. Tessa sat in the back with me. It was completely silent—not a single word spoken. They drove to a hotel. Evan went into the office while Tessa stayed. And me? Well, I was just taking in every sight, every sound, every scent my mind could handle. I don't think you could've wiped the smile off my face if you'd tried.
To me—it was exactly what Evan had promised.
It was an adventure.
So was being in the hotel room with them.
They asked me a lot of questions. Some I could answer, most I couldn't. I didn't know many words back then. I knew the basics: mom, dad, food, water, sore. But I knew enough to say yes when they offered food, nod when they offered drinks, and to smile when Tessa asked if I wanted a bath.
I remember the sound of laughter filling the room, Tessa's and mine, as I dove into the bath water, the warmth of it cascading over my shoulders when I splashed around. Tessa washed my hair and used her hand to scoop up the shampoo-foam off my head. She brought her hand to her face, her lips making an "O" as she blew, causing tiny pieces of white to float in the air. My eyes widened, my heart stopping, just for a moment as I watched them falling slowly and then disappearing.
"You like that, huh?" Tessa said.
I nodded slowly as I looked over at her. She was smiling, but there were tears again. I'd catch her like that a lot over the next few days.
And that's how I remember Tessa—with a sad, sad smile and pretty, pitiful eyes.
~~~
I blink hard, feeling the morning sun beat down on my face. For a minute or so, I just stared at the roof of my car, trying to push down the memories of my first "adventure." They'd come to me randomly and without warning. Some days I'd try everything to remember and nothing would come. Not a goddamn thing. Then there were the days I'd try to forget because sometimes life got so fucking shitty that I needed to forget that at one stage... the magic of shampoo-foam was the greatest part of it.
I reach for the lever between the seat and the door and wince when it jerks forward and hits my back. You'd think my body would be used to it by now considering I'd been sleeping in it for the past six months. It was a shelter, away from the rain and the cold, and most days it was the only option I had.
I shrug out of my jacket and wind down the window, inhaling quickly and letting my lungs fill with the crisp morning air. It's too cold outside, but too warm inside, so my body's covered in sweat. I grab a half-cigarette from the console and spark it, then roll the back of my head against the car seat, planning the rest of my day before I have to get Noah.
I turn the key in the ignition and look at the faded clock on the dash of my piece of shit 1980-something Honda Accord. It flashes 7:43, which gives me plenty of time to clean up before the pawn shop opens and I can reap the rewards of yesterday's job.
Job, I like to call it—because it sure as hell sounded a shit ton better than burglary.
***
I drive to the park, run laps around the track and promise myself I'll quit smoking for the millionth time. When the burn in my lungs fade and I can actually breathe and feel my legs again, I use the designated workout area open to the public.
When I first came here, I had no idea what the fuck any of the equipment was for. Each station had a sign with instructions and diagrams I didn't understand. So, for a couple of weeks I'd wake up in whatever shit-hole parking lot I found myself in and drove to this park. I'd sit on a bench and watch the morning fitness junkies get their hit, decked out in clothes worth more than my car, just so they could look good for whoever would look twice at them.
That isn't my purpose for being here.
My purpose had purpose.
See, the week before I'd started working out I'd broken into a house. Well, I can't really say I broke in considering I had the key. Every morning, the owner would exit his house, outfitted in his running gear and hide his keys beneath the doormat. He'd be gone an hour. Almost to the minute. Every single day. I knew all this because I watched him.
I mean, come on. The sucker was practically begging for it.
So, I chose a day.
I chose the wrong day.
He'd left the house, the key was there, but he wasn't gone for an hour.
He beat the shit out of me in his sparkling white kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances, and on his final punch to my jaw, my head hit the edge of his marble counter-top with a loud thump. I fell to the floor while he just fucking stood there, smirking with his arms crossed over his huge chest, his eyes gleaming with pride over what he'd just done. His self-entitled smirk stayed in place while he looked down his nose at me. He told me I had two options: wait for the cops or get the fuck out. I got the fuck out, blood pouring from my mouth and an ache in my skull which made everything spin.
I barely felt it though.
It was a pussy-beating compared to what I'd been used to.
I promised myself the next time it'd happened, I'd fight back. That was one promise I actually kept.
Brody and Noah had asked what happened when they saw me next. I told them a dog attacked me while I was walking home from my job.
Noah bought it.
Brody didn't.
Of course, he didn't. He was smart. A shit ton smarter than I was. He'd worked out the truth and when confronted with it, I didn't deny it. I couldn't. But we promised to keep it from Noah. The less he knew the better. Besides, like Brody had said, I was a hero in Noah's eyes. Who the fuck were we to take that away from him?
That night, Brody apparently fed Noah some bullshit story about me working at a toy factory. He thought it would excite Noah. It did. So much so that Noah kept asking me to bring him toys.
I "worked" double time just to buy him piece of shit toys which broke after a few days of his constant playing.
Now he thinks I dig holes at the cemetery.
He hasn't asked me to bring him anything since.
***
The clerk at the convenient store downtown, too occupied on his phone, has no problem giving me the restroom key without making a purchase. I swipe a few packets of gum, head out, and make my way to the side of the building where I'd parked my car. After grabbing the few clean clothes I have from the trunk, I use the key, do my business, then wait for what feels like forever for the water in the sink to warm up before I strip down to nothing. I pull on the individual paper towels and soak them with water, using the hand soap to wash my armpits and balls. I think for a moment, back to the clerk who didn't seem to give two shits about his job or about me, and decide I can take my time. I scrub myself clean, even washing my hair as much as I can, and empty the rest of the paper towel dispenser to dry myself.
I sigh, staring at myself in the mirror.
Fuck, I'd give almost anything to be in that hotel room. To be submerged in the warmth of the water. To see the magic of white foam flakes floating in the air. To hear Tessa's laugh. To see her smile. Hell, I'd even take the pity in her eyes if it meant I could re-live that moment again.
