Perfect | Book 1

12 |

"You noisy bastard, will you stop that fucking crying already!" The father yelled at the  six-year-old boy in tears, which grew worse as the man threw an empty beer bottle against the wall. "I've told you to stop being a pussy or I'll kick your ass again."

Chord's face was tear-stained and dirty, his too-big clothes hung loosely on him. He let out a cry as the bottle shattered, a bit of glass sliced his cheek. His stomach growled, the hunger pains felt like stab wounds from inside. All he wanted was something to eat. Why was Dad so mad? Daddy was always mad it seemed when he was around. Mommy wasn't around either and when she was, she still wasn't there for him.

Beer bottles covered the tables, scattered across the ground. Ashtrays filled with cigarettes and ash and trash littered corners and crevices. Some white powder was on the table, and his mom lay on the couch smoking.

"But Daddy, I'm hungry," he whimpered, hugging his stomach.

"You little bastard, do you think I work my ass off to waste it on an ungrateful brat like you?" Grabbing the ashtray on the table by him, Chord ran off as his father hurled it where he'd been standing. "Get the fuck out of my house, you bastard!" He turned to Chord's mother. "Your son is a fucking pain in the ass."

Chord ran out of the house as his father continued with his obscenities. His cheek hurt and his body was screaming as his short legs took him into the woods out behind the house. Get away. I have to get away. I'll wait for Daddy to calm down and come back.

"Get back here, you fucker!" The shout jarred him, but his legs worked on autopilot.

He wasn't sure how long he ran until his legs gave out from under him, falling to the ground. He let out a cry as he fell, rolling down a hill until he stopped at the roots of a large tree with gnarled roots, but a gap large enough for a young child to hide if needed.

Sniffling, he looks at his scuffed palms, tears filling his eyes. Curling his legs to his chest, Chord continued to cry for a little while. I'm hungry. If Daddy and Mommy aren't going to feed me, where will I get food from?

"Are you okay?" He gasped, looking around frantically for the source of the small voice who spoke. He didn't see anyone though. Is this place haunted?

"Up here!"

Up in the tree, Chord saw a little girl with frizzy brown hair and freckles in a tank top and shorts and worn-out tennis shoes watching him, halfway hidden by tree branches. Her emerald eyes were shining, shades lighter than the leaves.

"Why are you crying?" she asked.

"W-Who are you?" he asked, wiping his face. "I'm not crying!"

"Yeah, ya are!"

He watched the girl cling to the tree like a koala and slide down the trunk. Landing on unsteady feet, she approached Chord. "What happened to your face?" She brought her face close to his face, so close he saw the splash of freckles on her face.

Chord narrowed his eyes, pulling away. "None of your business. Will you go away!"

"Why? You're at my tree! You're the one t'e'passin'," she answered, pointing to the trunk. "See? That's my name."

Carved into the tree was a name: Aaliyah.

"Oh." He deflated. "Ah-lie-yah?" Was he going to get into trouble?

"Ah-lee-ah. But you can call me Ali!" Aaliyah let out a giggle. "You know you're lucky it was my tree you found. I was just gonna eat my lunch. I can share them with you." She dove into the roots of the tree and for a few moments all you saw was her butt and legs sticking out. When she pulled herself out, she had a purple backpack in her hands, several small twigs in her hair and dirt on one cheek.