Trailer Park Girl | A Novella| Completed

"Please! I'm so..."

⎈

Mishka

"Please! I'm so sorry!" I scream.

"Get out. I never want to see your face ever again!"

"Come on, Rico! I said I was sorry!" I try to make him understand, pushing my body against his so he'd stop pushing me out.

His long fingers shove me away. "Get out!"

"I swear, he came onto me!"

"I don't give a fuck, you bitch, get out!"

I swallow, and step away. "Rico..."

"Get the fuck out, you hear me?" He lifts his gun, cocking the Glock.

I back up, bumping into the crate at his door before tumbling out of the room.

I stand on the sidewalk, lifting my hand, trying to fan a taxi down. I got no cash, Rico borrowed it to buy weed, and seeing that he's mad at me, I won't be getting it back.

Cold wind sweeps against my face and burns my nose. Cars zap past as I reach up to press my knuckle against my face.

The bus comes.

I get on.

The drive home is tiring, cold, and I sit next to an old man in a mowly brown coat, his head bobbing from fatigue every other second.

The city is asleep, most shops and labels, closed. There's not really much to do in an area you've been in all your life.

A woman ambles down the road alone. Her skirt is short, all torn around the hem. Her hair's a bird's nest, and she looks cold. My gaze follows her, even as the bus hurdles by her in the night.

When I get home, the arguments are there too.

"Fuck you, Fred. You can't fuck me and not pay me! You can't get my pussy and not give me money for it!"

"Oh, cállate, Mujer...." (oh, shut up, woman) Fred slams the fridge and walks out of the kitchen in his white wife-beater.

"Fuck you back! Piece of shit! Go get a job, damn it!"

"You're mama is sick. I'm done with this shit." Fred tells me as he walks by, bumping into my shoulder.

I turn to him. "Hold on, what about Kitara? She has school."

"Then go fuck and let a man pay you, princess. I ain't your father..."

I watch as he leaves the house, slamming the door.

"Ma," I say in disappointment.

She presses her lips together and crosses her arms. "He'll come back." She shakes her head and presses a hand to her forehead, walking out of the kitchen.

She passes by me. "You smell like weed and sex. Do better..."

She walks straight to her room and slams the door shut.

I bring my shirt to my nose. Weed? Yes. Sex. Not really...

I make my way upstairs and prepare for myself a bath, sitting blankly in the tub. Until I'm too cold and can't feel my fingers anymore, and then I come out.

I go downstairs and warm up my dinner. It's cold porridge and the dry bread Trisha has had since last week.

I eat it, not thinking about what it is and how it tastes as the sogginess passes through my throat and into my stomach. And then I go upstairs to check on Kitara.