Morally Grey

Chapter 20

"We should go for coffee." I tell the man who has a gun aimed at me.

We've been standing here for 20 minutes now.

After realising that he lowered his gun, I've now been trying to befriend him, so when I run up the stairs maybe he won't shoot.

"Why would we go for coffee?" He asks

"Because we're friends." I explain.

I've also found out that he's a daft bastard. Majority of our conversations is me saying one thing and him asking a question, needing me to explain it to him. He reminds me of D'Amica.

"We're not friends."

"Yes we are! Don't you dare deny our friendship!" I dramatically shout at him.

He laughs a little and his phone rings. He looks at me unsure of what to do.

"Pick it up I don't care, seeing as we're not friends." I tell him.

"It's my mom" he tells me awkwardly.

"Well now you have to answer it!" I laugh.

"Hi mom" he says into the phone.
"Yea I'm good"
"No"
"I haven't heard about it."
"Ok bye"
"Yes, love you too"
"Bye" he speaks into the phone before hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Mamas boy" I tease him, laughing at the conversation I just heard.

"Yea, I am" he admits.

"She worries about you, it's cute" I tell him, secretly envious that his mother cared for him.

"Mum?" I call out to the barely conscious woman locked in the bathroom.

"Mum, please," I knock on the door.

"Mum, open the door!" I shout and I knock even harder.

She's been off on one of her benders, the longest one yet of 3 months. She came back earlier today and has been locked in the bathroom for the past half an hour.

She needs to leave. His drinking is ten times worse when she's here.

I hear the door unlocking and the door swings open. Mum barges out and slaps me, her makeup fixed from the smudged mess it was earlier, her hair washed and straightened.

"Fuck off, you little shit, can't you see I'm busy?" She shouts in my face, her breath reeking of cigarettes and vodka.

"Sorry Mum but-"

"But what?" She shouts again.

But he'll be home soon...

She grabs her heels from the bathroom floor and walks into the kitchen. She grabs her bag off the table and takes a seat at it.

She rummages through her bag and pulls out a needle and a blue elastic strap.

She wraps the blue strap around the top of her arm and starts hitting the crease of her elbow.

She then takes the needle and pierces it into her skin, licking her lips in anticipation of her next high.

She drains the needle into her and starts to look through her bag again. Pulling out another needle she repeats the process again.

She notices me staring at her.

"What do you want!" She shouts at me angrily.

"Nothing"

"Then how about you get out of my hair!"

I run up to my room, praying that she leaves before the man she claims to be my father gets home.

I hear a car pull into the drive way. It's too late. I peek out my window and see him charge into the house. He's not drunk yet, just tipsy.

I hear the front door slam and hear the hos footsteps retreat to the kitchen.

"Seraphina get down here!!" He screams.

Tears fill my eyes already as I run downstairs.
He slaps me across the face. He leans in close to my face,

"How dare you let this slut into my house!" He shouts. I can smell the alcohol off his breath.

He hits me  and he reaches to undo his belt.

I look to my mum who's fixing her hair, looking at herself on her phone.

I lock eyes with her as the first whip hits my back.

The first is always the worst.

She watches as he keeps whipping and does nothing, not out of fear but out of the fact she doesn't care.

I fall to the ground unable to take it anymore. He kicks me in to stomach.

"Pathetic." He mutters, before walking off.

"Mum" I whisper out as she looks at me.

"Please" I whisper again through my sobs.

She packs her stuff back into her handbag and puts on her heels.

Walking past me, she stops.

She kicks me.

"That's for annoying me" she says and walks away to the front door.

That is one of the fondest memories I have of my mother.

"Anyway back to coffee?" I ask again.

"Just go" he says, defeatedly, lowing his gun and tucking it Into his waistband.

I was starting to feel dizzy from my wound on my neck but I ran up the stairs and to the ladies bathroom I saw on the way in, putting my gun away as I ran.

I look at myself in the mirror, sick to my stomach.

My eye was bruised and swollen, with a massive cut on my left cheek. My lip was busted open and my nose was bleeding. That's not the worst of the damage.

My hands reach to my neck staring at the slice the knife had caused, covering half my neck, from above my clavicle to just before my chin. It was bleeding badly, drenching my chest and top. I looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

I try to wash the blood of as best I can, tending to the wound on my face aswell as plugging up my nose with tissues. I pull my hair out of my ponytail, attempting to cover my face and neck.

I walk out of the casino, trying to avoid unwanted attention.

It was dark outside now thankfully and I reach my motel room. I was just about to open the door when a bullet hit the doorframe, just mere centimetres away from me.

"Missed!" I call out, unbothered and I stumble into my room, dizzy from the bloodloss or possible concussion I have from falling flat on my face.

I pull out the first aid kit I have in my bag and try to help my wounds, they were deep. Shit. I'll probably need stitches.

A shadow crosses over the doorway and I jump up from the bed, ready to fight.

In the dark lighting I can make out the outline of a man standing in the doorway, a familiar scent hits my bleeding nose, even with the coppery smell of blood I can still smell the scent of Eros D'Amica.