Redemption

The hotel I stayed in was dingy, but better than the motel that was my other option, but no way near as nice as the hotel that Joe and I first had sex in. Joe wouldn’t leave my mind. I thought about what he was doing right now. He had tried calling, I ignored them but checked the messages.

’Hey Mallory, it’s Joe. I came home and Charger was here and…are you okay? Please call me back’

‘Mallory, call me back, please I need to talk to you.’

‘Hey I just went by ummmm…where you work, didn’t see you there so call me.’

He was around his family for the last message, I could tell, and that made me angry again. Why was he such a sweet asshole? He was ashamed of me and I knew it but I still crawled back to him, but not now. I spent my first two days back in Manhattan in my hotel room, only leaving for food then coming back and lying in the bed, watching TV.

It took time to muster up the strength I would need to do what I had to do.

I would wander down areas I spent so much of my childhood in. There was the abandoned building that I first had sex in, my school were I constantly smoked in the bathroom, the park where I saw these two gangs fighting and one guy shot another guy. They were weird memories, eccentric, but mine.

The day I finally went to the house I felt like puking. It was eerily the same, still a mess with beer bottles in the front yard and needles hidden in the grass. I didn’t want to go knock on the door, but I had been here for 2 days and had done nothing but ponder. I needed this reality check. Joe was from some other planet and I wasn’t going to allow myself to fall for that fake world.

I lived in this world, this fucked up world that I can never escape.

“Who the fuck is at the door!”

His voice boomed, words were slurred, it was just the same. Then he opened the door, wearing torn up jeans and a black t-shirt. He had shaved his head, gotten a tattoo on his shaved head. His brown eyes squinted in the bright sun and then he recognized me.

“If it isn’t my little whore,” he scoffed, my father called me a whore. He never forgave me for leaving, for thinking I could do something with my life, and now he ridicules me for being a stripper-he thinks it is justice.

“Hi dad,” my voice was low, submissive, like the beaten down dog I was.

“Baby? Oh it is my baby,” my mom said and came and gave me a big hug. Her button up shirt had a few buttons unbuttoned on the bottom and her shorts were extremely short, showing off her bruised legs.

“I will want my money back mom,” I said, not afraid to speak up to her. She had pissed me off, made me so angry and I officially hated her.

“I don’t know what you are talking about baby,” she said as she kissed my cheek.

“Is that why you came? For money you skank?” my father, Dean Caraco, asked, putting his hand on my mom’s butt and giving it a light squeeze. He sickened me.

“No, I wanted to see you guys, see how you were doing.”

“So you stayin?” he asked.

“If I may,” I replied, not looking at him but at the ground instead.

“Get your ass in here.”

I nodded my head and obeyed his order, I would get my bags out of my rental car later. The house smelled of smoke, drugs, and sex, it was like a blast from the past. It was a mess and looked like they had had some sex party; they were probably running out of money so dad sold mom again.

And mom probably liked it.

I walked down the hall and into my old room. The bed was still there; different sheets though, all messed up. Everything else was different, because it wasn’t there. They had sold all of my childhood possessions, not shocking, but still hurt.

“Just the same huh?” mom asked, obviously high.

“Completely,” I lied.

“How long are you staying?” my dad asked.

“A few days,” I responded as I looked at him and I saw him look me up and down, and I shivered.

“Fine,” he said and I saw him disappear and then heard the door to the master bedroom close.

“I am so happy you are here!” my mom said and I could tell she was nervous about the money she had stolen from me.

“Me too mom, me too,” I said and then she went after my father.

I went outside to get my bags and I brought them into my old room. I lay on the bed, not caring how dirty it must be. I let out a sigh as I began hearing the moaning from my mom and the grunting from my dad. It wasn’t the first time I had heard them have sex, probably wouldn’t be the last.

My hand rummaged through my bag until I found my phone. I had another new voicemail, one missed call from Joe.

’I don’t know where you are, I don’t know if you will even respond to this but….Mallory I, I know we promised and, but you not being here, it’s just…what did I do wrong? What happened? I thought we were happy, or is that it. We, you want it to be separate, a me and you thing? Let me know Mallory, please, I can’t stop thinking of you.’

It sounded like he was about to cry at the very end of the message. Charger barked sometime during the middle and it hurt but I didn’t cry. I had used up way too many tears and crying wouldn’t help anything now.

Not crying was hard at times, my first night when my dad smacked my mom and she started crying-now that was hard. I vowed then to stay for 4 nights-max, and then stay in Manhattan for a little while longer. The next morning my dad gave me a kiss on the cheek, I felt sick. That day was dull; I walked around a lot, and then came home to a random man fucking my mom on the coach. I turned my head and walked into my room and shut the door. I could hear my father watching ESPN from his room, probably counting the money that man paid him to fuck my mother.

“You might not wanna be here tonight,” my dad said the third day I was there, as I sat on the coach, watching some random show.

“Why?” I asked and looked at him, and he gave me a sick smile.

“Never mind, you should be here Mallory,” he said, calling me by my name, something new.

I gulped and saw mom walk in with some groceries.

“Shitload of money all this cost me, to keep feeding you and little miss whore,” she said and gave me a glare. I didn’t know why but ever since the day started she had been being mean to me. She almost hit me while I was eating breakfast, and I just couldn’t figure out why she would want to hit me.

I had been trying to be nice to her, forgot about the money situation but she was always high or drunk which might have made her so angry with me.

“Don’t talk to her that way bitch,” my dad snapped and I looked at him, surprised.

“Go fuck yourself,” mom said and put the groceries away.

I left after that and went to the park. I sat under a shady tree, the grass underneath me pretty much dead. I thought about what I was really doing here. It hadn’t been as bad, I had seen rough things and this was rough. I knew I shouldn’t have come but it was too late, I was here with my family and away from Joe. I belonged here.

I stayed thinking for hours until the sun set and then headed home. I was greeted by about 7 strange cars in the driveway. I walked in and coughed a bit from all the smoke. The smell got to me, the smell of all the different drugs. They were having either a drug party or sex party. I hoped it was only a drug party.

“Fuck yes!” I turned my head to see the blonde, skinny lady laying on the floor in the living room, a man having sex with her. I was wrong about the kind of party.

“There you are,” my dad said as he came up to me, obviously drunk, and probably high.

“I think I am going to go,” I said, trying to block out all the noises.

“Why?” he asked and his hand was suddenly on my butt.

“Fuckin whore!” my mom yelled and came up and smacked me. “Couldn’t leave well enough alone huh? Had to come and whore around with my husband, your own father!” she yelled and was about to slap me again but my father slapped her first.

She fell back, rubbing her cheek and my father spit on her. He then grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the master bedroom.

“It’s okay baby,” he said as he closed the door, “She is just jealous of how beautiful you have become,” he said and touched my cheek and I was so scared that I couldn’t even move.

“You are a very gorgeous girl Mallory, makes me feel bad for letting you leave,” he said and put both hands on my breasts.

“Stop, Dean stop it,” I said, calling him Dean because he was no father at all.

“Call me Daddy baby,” he said and squeezed my breasts.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” I yelled but no one would hear me. My own father’s lips met mine as he hungrily kissed me and I tried to get away, but he was too strong.

I screamed when he laid me on the bed and I screamed when he took my clothes off.

I screamed and screamed, but no one heard, no one would. My dose of reality was here, and stronger than I ever wanted it to be.