The Fence (A Billy Hargrove Short Story)

The Basement

Josephine's POV

I stare up at my ceiling tiles thinking about him. It had been one day since I heard Billy's voice for the first time. Since I rubbed my thumb across his bloodied lip. One day since I saw those pretty blue eyes.

I was terrified when I came back inside yesterday. I had scrubbed my hands until they were raw, trying to erase any signs that I had been outside. Scrub, rinse, repeat. A vicious cycle.

Luckily the monster was more drunk than usual when he returned. He had made his way into his favorite shit brown chair, passing out quickly. I hated that chair. It always smelled of him. Beer and sweat.

The smell alone made me nauseous. He made me nauseous. The amount of times I have emptied my stomach because of him has to be unhealthy. And part of the reason I was so malnourished.

But as much as I hated the smell of beer, I welcomed the times it made him black out. A night to myself. A night of freedom. A night without his disgusting touch.

Those were the kind of nights I prayed for. Though no one was ever listening. I spent many nights crying and pleading to a god who didn't hear me. And if he did, he didn't care enough to answer.

****
It started young. My innocence was stolen from me before I could even understand it. My mom married him when I was five. And she left me when I was seven. A freak accident at her work. She didn't even make it to the hospital before she flatlined.

I still remember that day vividly. It was pouring rain and I fell in a puddle on my way off of the bus. I started crying because my favorite stuffed animal ended up covered in mud. Little did I know that was the least of my worries.

After that day nothing was the same. My bright and colorful world slowly faded to different shades of gray. My movie turned into an old black and white film. The kind with the static noises and the blotches on the screen.

My trips to school ended soon after and I started homeschooling. Any friends I had were erased from my life. My life as his prisoner began.
****

I count the squares on my ceiling from one end to the other. I think of my name rolling off of Billy's tongue. It was a beautiful sound. His voice was deep with a little gravel to it. I've been replaying yesterday in my head again and again, like a movie.

But this was a new movie. A better one. A happier one, the girl in this one was smiling. She was free. I wanted to hear him again. I wanted to see him again. But I knew I couldn't. It was too dangerous. Too risky. It wasn't safe. I know better.

Billy's POV

"Knocking me out, with those american thighs." I sing along to the AC/DC record, blasting in my room. I hear my dad in the kitchen, dishes being slammed around. I turn up my music and do my best to ignore him.