She Was His First

3

A harsh hand smacked Jack across the face and he cowered against the leather truck door. Mr. Avery, his dad, sat in the driver seat, glaring at Jack. Mr. Avery was a strong, dangerous man. Jack had seen him with them.

The women he took.

Once, he'd heard noises in the night and came to investigate. He walked in to see his dad on top of a young woman, ripping her shirt. She was pretty, even with her face stained with tears and fresh bruises. She reached out to Jack, wheezed, "help me." His dad punched her lights out, and Jack ran back to bed, terrified.

He was much younger then. Now, he could handle it. He could even be part of it. The wimpy Jack is gone. He was strong now. He could rip a girl's shirt just like that. But he was still no match for his dad.

"Get the hell out," said Mr. Avery, a thick man with a scruffy beard, sitting beside him in the truck. "You lazy sack of crap. And if I have to go down to that school and feed them full of that bull hockey again, your ass has had it." He put on a high pitched voice. "Yes, sir, I'll see about getting him some help." He got angry and loud again. "You just need to blend in you sick little twerp. Stop doing crap to scare the panty wetters. What the hell are you still sitting here for boy, I said get out!"

He grabbed Jack's short hair and pulled, then pushed him into the truck window. Jack's face squished against the glass. He grunted, he couldn't help it.

At least I didn't cry like a sissy, he thought.

He opened the door and got out, Mr. Avery kicking him in the back on the way. Even though he wanted to real bad, he didn't slam it shut. He walked to the back of the truck and he heard the driver's door slam. Heavy footsteps on the concrete walkway. The front door slammed. Jack looked back and saw the storm door swinging open on its hinges. He thought of his dad, who had just passed through the door, and flipped it the bird. It was a lot safer than flipping off the man himself, Jack knew.

He turned back to the neighborhood. Rage swarmed around inside Jack. It felt like he had filled up past his limit and was ready to burst with it--like an overfilled water balloon. A skinny tabby cat darted across the paved road. He could go after it. It would be easy to catch. He could hurt it and get all the hurt out of himself, but it just wasn't the same anymore. Animals didn't feel like he felt. He was ready to make a person hurt.

Then he saw them. Amy and Sarah in the distance, looking stupidly up at a tree. Trying to find more little birdies to fawn over, no doubt. It's her fault. If she hadn't screamed and cried like a big baby, he wouldn't have had to go to the office. They wouldn't have called his dad. He's not going to let her get away with it.

He kept his eyes on her as he started to walk over. But then a girl fell out of the tree beside Amy. A small girl, about the size of a kindergartner or a first grader. She was smiling at Amy, who he hated. Then they saw him and the girl's face changed. She didn't smile. She also didn't frown like Amy and Sarah. It was because she didn't know him like they did. Jack kept walking, but his plans were changing.