Wicked Games

I awoke feeling warm rays of sun travel over my face. I lay there still a moment, trying to decipher whether these were first morning sun rays, or mid afternoon rays. I could hear faintly in the distant background of my home, the bustle of pots and pans and people talking amongst themselves.

I figured it was morning.

Opening one eye, I squinted away from the unbearable brightness. My first senses kicked in, and I began smelling last night. Tequila, and marijuana filled my nostrils, and as I looked down at what I was wearing, I figured I’d had too much again and passed out in here fully dressed.

Either that or someone carried me in here. Again.
I sat up fully in my bed, trying to remember exactly what had occurred last night, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember. I knew that it must have been a good night. My sensibility kicked in, and I deciphered the voices I had just heard, as my mother, sister and brother.

Nicole and my mother seemed to be arguing over something—that was a given. Nicole and my mom were like the Stepford siblings. Loving on the outside, but cut-throat behind closed doors. I imagined Hayden refereeing an argument between the two and losing, like most mornings. I imagined Nicole screaming about how her life was so “unfair” and that she was never allowed to do anything.

I imagined my mother disagreeing, and waving a spatula in front of her, telling her she was ungrateful and all of us “fucking kids” were so goddamn ignorant and just like our father—lazy and resentful. I imagined Nicole yelling back that my mother was a “loser” and to go suck some more at the restaurant for tips.

I imagined my mother hissing at her first, and then screaming.

That’s usually how it went every morning, anyways. But today, Hayden actually stepped in and began defending mom. “Nicole, stop bitching and just go to school. You’re so fucking annoying” He grunted. I heard Nicole shrill something inaudible, as her heavy footsteps stormed up the stairs, down the hall, and ending in her room with a door being slammed shut—almost coming off the hinges.

I took this as my opening to come out of my room and make my way downstairs. As long as mom’s anger and frustrations were on another sibling, she wouldn’t have the time or energy to build any towards me, about why I came home so late.
“Morning” I mumbled, my voice hoarse. I sat at our chipped and stained looking table, that I remembered getting at a garage sale. None of the chairs matched, and some of them were even lawn chairs from outside.

“Morning” My mother said with her back turned, facing the sink. I imagined her eyes were watery and drowning in the mascara she had probably just applied for work this morning. I felt sorry for her—just a bit, but not enough. I ignored her and turned to Hayden who had his baseball cap down low on his eyes. He was staring at me.

“What?” I asked, my eyes defending from his judgmental ones. The way he watched me, made me feel as though he was screaming insults at me. “Slut” seemed to be the only one that was sticking, at the moment. Hayden looked away from me, and for a moment, I saw shame in his eyes. Was he ashamed of me? Ashamed to call the girl who was known for drinking, popping pills and smoking at every party his sister?

“Long night” It wasn’t really a question, it was more of an observation he made. He continued to stare at me; his hard hazel eyes reminded me of our father. I shriveled against my chair, never daring to make eye contact with him. I could feel his stare burning into the side of my face as I poured my cereal into a bowl.

“FAITH!” I heard Nicole hiss from upstairs. Once again, her heavy footsteps came barreling down the stairs and into the kitchen. “You bitch! You stole my shirt!”

I could almost feel Nicole’s searing heat coming off her body as she stood behind me. I was nevertheless not fazed and continued eating my cereal, feeling her cold eyes burning over top of me. “Give it a rest, Nicole” I saw with a spoon full of Fruitloops. I felt Nicole’s nails dig into my shoulder as she tried to spin me around.

If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, and one thing I wouldn’t allow, was somebody putting their hands on me. I was sick of it, and went through it enough as a child. I refused to be touched by Nicole, who was acting like a miserable brat.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Nicole” I growled. Nicole unfazed, reached again for me but was cut short by Hayden.

“Relax, Nicole” His tone was unmovable. Sometimes I wondered if Hayden was human. I wondered how he could just act so calm all the time, as if nothing was ever wrong in the world. I’m almost certain that if a nuclear bomb went off in front of him, he’d stand there unfazed with that same, cold expression on his face.

“No, tell her to take off my shirt” Nicole spat. She looked and talked to me as if I was sort of inhuman lab experiment. She looked at me as if I wasn’t her sister—as if I didn’t exist and was only in this household occupying space and time.

I expected nothing more from Nicole, anyhow. That was how Nicole always acted. She treated everyone around her like they were an inconvenience to be recognized by her. At least, that’s how she treated Hayden, mom and I. It was like we owed her something, and she was bitter because we hadn’t paid up yet.

My mother, sick of Nicole this morning, turned around from the sink and screamed at her “Nicole Maria Da Silva, watch your tone in this house. I’m sick of your goddamn mouth, screeching for no damn reason. For fucks sake, it’s a shirt! I’m sure Faith isn’t keeping it either, so just shut the hell up and get ready for school!”

“Mom,” Nicole screeched. “She won’t give it back!”

Nicole can be such a loose cannon. “Here” I took the shirt off, not caring if it left me only in a bra, and flung it in her face. She shot me the dirtiest look I’d ever seen her give anyone, and stormed back upstairs.

My mom sighed deeply and reached for her pack of cigarettes “You kids are going to give me a goddamn heart attack” She wiped away the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. She placed a cigarette loosely between her lips and started stuffing her wallet and notepads into her fake Coach bag. “Make sure whoever is last to leave the house, locks the door” she mumbled, being careful not to drop her cigarette from between her lips.

I nodded, swinging my feet underneath my chair. Hayden nodded too, reaching for his empty bowl to put it in the sink. She left in a huff, nearly dropping everything she had with her. I looked to Hayden who was silently rinsing his bowl. The sound of that water hitting the sink made me zone out into nothing.

I heard the van start outside. It grumbled and coughed to life, before cranking into reverse. “Any plans tonight, Hayden?” I asked, not making eye contact with him. He ignored me for a moment, and I had to remind myself of why, then he finally responded.

“I should be asking you that”

I wondered if Hayden hated me. We weren’t particularly the fondest siblings, or the closest. Hayden and I had a special relationship. We never really cared about what the other one chose to do with their days, but became protective when the other was reproached by anyone. We were sort of backwards that way.

Hayden was twenty years old, but acted as if he was going on thirty. He was sort of the wiser of my father’s brood…and didn’t mind showing it either. He talked, acted and portrayed himself as much classier than Nicole and I. In our neighborhood, the Da Silva’s were looked at as “white trash”. At least, that’s what Jeffery Milton use to say, way back in middle school.

We were full blooded Portuguese, although the only authentic behavior we possessed was cheering for our national team during Euro and World Cup games. We spoke English, because that’s what we were taught, and we ate our potato balls with ketchup, because the Piri Piri sauce was too expensive and my mom was on a budget.

Hayden, Nicole and I were opposites. We all repelled one another dramatically. When we were kids, we use to joke about the other being the “Milkman’s kid”. My mom wasn’t too fond of those jokes. My dad was convinced, otherwise.

My father and my mother have been married for over eighteen years. My father is barely around, where as my mother is always too much around. My dad works as a roofer under some Greek guy. He claims to work long days and late nights. But we all knew better. Dad’s long nights were usually spent at the local bar in town. He’d usually be there all hours of the night, coming home just in time to shower and leave for work again.

When I was little, I use to stay up with Nicole and sit at the top of the stairs and listen to my parents fight over bills, and mortgages. I use to constantly hear my mom cry about “losing the house”. I would wonder to myself, “But the house is right here”, although I would never try and tell my mother otherwise.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it” I finished my cereal and dropped it into the sink. Hayden shot me a look, and moved aside from the sink.

“Aren’t you going to wash that?”

“Well, I figured since you were there, you would” I smirked, walking upstairs. He shook his head at me, but washed my bowl nonetheless.

---

“Yeah, I’ll be ready before you get here”

I hung up my cell phone, and looked at the clock. It was a quarter past 1:00am. I knew my mother wasn’t back from work yet, since the diner was twenty-four hours and she always preferred working the latest shift. She use to tell our old neighbor Mrs. Pereira that working the latest shifts were the best because you got a the alcoholic men coming in after a long day at work, and drinking away their souls. “Kind of like your dad, Faith,” She’d pause for an inhale of her cigarette, “Drinking away all the money that could’ve been used for groceries…or child support”.

I dashed to my closet, holding the joint I was smoking in between my fingers. I’d strip down an article of clothing, than take a quite toke of the joint, and finish pulling it on. The wispy smoke swallowed me whole in my bedroom, making my eyes water a bit. I took another drag before buttoning up my ripped and faded jeans.

I set the joint down on my hot pink ashtray; Nicole had gotten me last year. I went quiet, listening for any signs of life in my house.

It was dead silent.

I thought once or twice I may have heard Hayden’s voice, or maybe my dad’s…but I dismissed it as me just being paranoid as usual.

I had a strange feeling in my stomach, yet I couldn’t quite put a finger on it. I couldn’t quite understand why I was feeling the way I was…or why I felt uneasy. Still, I smoked the remainder of my joint and put the stub into the ashtray, making a mental note to save it for later.

I heard a horn honking outside. I smiled and grabbed my purse, making a quick dash out my bedroom. I skipped down the stairs, jumping over the last. Before I left my house, I glanced at myself in the living room mirror.

I stared long and hard.

Why did I stare so long and hard?

I ran outside and up to the two door black Acura Integra. I opened the door, smiling. “Hey babe” I got in, sliding down into the cool leather. Peter smirked at me and nodded towards the two other men in the back to do up their windows. We were going to hot box the car before we went to the slums to sell some heroin Peter had.

Peter was a good friend, a fuck buddy and confident for me all wrapped in perfect tattoos and dark blonde hair. He looked to Jesse and Clark, our friends who were here to spot for us. Jesse was a whiz-kid, one of the smartest I’d ever met. Sometimes I wondered how he always got sucked into Peter’s illegal activities. I knew Peter was persuasive, but sometimes I wondered how much. Clark was Peter’s left hand and partner in crime. Him being here tonight was a given.

We drove slowly down the street, making sure Jesse had enough control to roll the joint we were about to smoke evenly and neatly in his lap. “So, where exactly are we going?” He asked, using his little finger to push the weed neatly into the crease of the joint paper. I stared out the window, becoming mesmerized by the changing and switching of red, green and yellow lights. The roads were slick with fresh rain, and glowed under each traffic light we approached. We weren’t the only car on the road, but could tell that most commuters must’ve been calling it a night so far.

Peter drove fast, racing each yellow light we approached. Clark stiffened in his sleep. Neither of us liked Peter’s driving skills, but sucked it up knowing that it would pay off in cash by the end of the night. “I was thinking of heading into Kingston…downtown maybe” Peter muttered smoking his own cigarette.

Jesse licked the joint, and sealed it. He held its tip, shaking it slightly to keep it firm. “It’s ready” He chuckled, taking out a lighter.

My face was forward, but I could hear the flicking of the lighter in the back of the car, and then the final searing and sizzling noise it made when it was lit. Jesse took a toke first, and then passed it to me. I took three long and deep inhales.

I was higher than the stars.

I passed it to Peter and he smoked heavily on it before passing it off to Clark. We continued this rotation until the joint was done and only a mere stub. By that time, we were already in Kingston. We drove through the suburbs, making our way to the slums. The slums were what we all referred to as the crack central of a city or town. We were all from Newboro, Ontario. It was the neighboring town to Kingston. Kingston was the next largest town from Toronto. We always came here to do all our heavier drug dealing. There weren’t much crack-heads and heroin addicts in a city populated by two-thousand or so people.

We approached the crack-house neighborhood of Jarvis. Peter parked the car on the curb and motioned for Jesse to pass him his duffle bag. Jesse complied, and threw the large black Adidas duffle into the front. “Okay, so here’s the deal. Clark, we’ll go deal this out…Faith, Jesse, stay in the car…keep an eye out for us. If anything seems suspicious, call” He lit a cigarette, and nodded to Clark. They both got out of the car and proceeded into the town-home complexes. I sighed, and extended the seat back slightly, closing my eyes.

“So, what exactly is going on between you and Peter?” I heard Jesse ask through the thick silence. I opened an eye and looked over my shoulder to him. He was slouched back in his seat as well, tirelessly flicking open and closing the lid to his torch lighter.

“I don’t even know” I said after a long and grueling pause. It was an honest statement. I really didn’t know what Peter was to me…I mean, sure, we had sex, but anyone can have sex nowadays. Sex was at every corner and not just being offered up by hookers anymore. Jesse chuckled slightly, taking off his glasses and wiping them. I guess they were fogging up.

“Seems complicated” He finished, putting his glasses back on. I chuckled too, and for the first time in a while, it sounded genuine. Jesse’s smile got wider when I laughed. I guess it was the first ounce of emotion he’s ever gotten out of me. He, like a lot of people I knew, took pride in that accomplishment—getting me to smile and laugh, I mean.

“Peter and I are just…friends. Sometimes we’re more…when we need to be…it’s a very platonic relationship we have” I sighed, smiling. I closed my eyes, listening to the relaxing sound of nothing.

Jesse chuckled more, probably not believing a word I was saying.

“You sure you don’t love him?”

I snapped my gaze to him, sitting up in my seat. “What’s it to you, anyways?” I said through scrutinizing eyes. Jesse raised both his hands in defense.

“I come in peace,” He laughed again “I just was curious. I seen you guys a lot back in school…you guys were always making out in the smokers pit, or in his car” Jesse blushed…I could see the faint pink in his pale cheeks, even through the darkness. I relaxed a bit, lying back in my seat.

“I-I don’t love him” At least I thought I didn’t.

“Sure” He smiled once more, his face lighting up. I groaned and shook my head.

“So what’s your story? What’s a smart kid like you doing here with people like me, Clark and Peter? I seen you around school…you’re a smart kid. Always on honor roll or some shit” It was true; Jesse was definitely the odd one out, every time he came on these late night drug dealing runs. Jesse looked down, probably agreeing with every word I was saying.

“I…need money for university. Living in a shitty small town like Newboro…drug dealing is the fastest way to earn a seven grand tuition” I suddenly felt bad for snapping at Jesse…he was like me…well, not really. But he was here for a real reason. Sure, no one can justify drug dealing, but he was doing it for a good cause—or so. I mean, what were me, Clark and Peter doing this for? Extra cash? Money to buy new clothes…new Nikes…senseless shit.

“Oh” Was all I managed to say. Jesse sighed and looked out the window. He had a small smile on his lips.

“I promised my mom I’d be a doctor one day…and make her better” Jesse’s smile faded into a solemn line. I stared hard at him, not wanting him to stop spilling his heart. I wanted to know Jesse…he was so genuine and real. He was honest, and wanted to live a good life. No matter what speed bumps were thrown in his path, I could already see Jesse to be the type to get over them.

“Is…she sick?” I whispered. I didn’t know why exactly I did, but I just felt like this conversation was too sensitive for loud and obnoxious voices. Something I was known for having, too.

“Yeah, she has cancer” Jesse said easily. I guess he’d been practicing that for whenever anyone asked. I don’t remember Jesse’s mother…come to think of it, I had never seen her in all my high school years. I suppose I’ve just found out why.

“I’m sorry”
“No, it’s okay,” Jesse smiled faintly “I’m going to make her better…one day I will” He said more so to himself than I. I stared at Jesse, my heart breaking. I wanted to cry…cry for him, but I couldn’t understand why. Faith Da Silva was one selfish bitch—that was something I could admit, but tonight…I wanted to cry. Cry for someone who didn’t mean a damn thing to me.

“I believe in you, Jesse. You’re a good guy. You’ll go far in life” I smiled sweetly. Jesse blushed and looked down. He pushed his glasses up on his face.

“I hope so…I’m her last hope. My mom said that her last and only wish is to see me graduate university. I’m her everything. I guess that happens when you’re an only child” He laughed lightly. I smiled, mentally blessing Jesse and thanking God for at least letting me meet one good man in my life time.

“She’ll get her wish”

“And a lot more. My mom’s my everything” He blushed again. I couldn’t help but smile at Jesse…he was perfect. A good guy…son…future father. His ambition and heart made me want to marry him.

“Jesse, you’re amaz—“

Gun shots rang out from outside the car. Jesse and I froze, our eyes meeting in a hysterical heat. “Lock the doors!” I screamed reaching over my seat and to the driver’s side door. I felt my heart beat erupt in my chest as heat seared my mind and core. My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the lock.

Jesse reached over, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me down into my seat “Keep your head down, Faith” He whispered violently. I felt his body cover my own protectively.

I broke down crying.

I cried, loud and long.

Jesse rubbed my head “Shhh, please Faith, someone will hear you. It’ll be okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you” I almost believed him.

Almost.

The driver’s side door swung open. Peter scrambled into the car, pushing me away from the seat I was trying to take cover on. Moments after, Clark got into the car as well. “Drive!” Clark yelled. Peter fumbled with the keys. I swore I imagined a tear roll down his face, as he finally got the ignition started.

I only had enough time to glance up and take note of the men running towards our car with black ski mask.

Two men.

One had a gun.

He aimed it at us.

I heard the crack of the gun and screamed. Glass shattered around the car, flying towards me. I felt something warm trickling down my forehead as I tried desperately to shield myself away from any more flying glass. Two more shots were fired, hitting the car. More glass shattered. The sound was
like hard glass, crashing onto mental.

I’ll never forget that sound for as long as I live.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I felt myself being thrown backwards into the seat as Peter slammed his foot on the gas. I could barely see through the red haze, distracting my vision. I took note later, that it was blood pouring from an open gash above my eye.

Through all the chaos, I made out Peter’s screams. His yells at Clark, for why he wasn’t watching his back. His anger switched to me and Jesse as to why we hadn’t noticed the black car that had pulled up behind us. I mentally blamed myself for becoming so lost and distracted in Jesse’s heartfelt promises. In that moment, there wasn’t anyone I hated more than Faith Da Silva.

It wasn’t until Jesse hadn’t been responding that we noticed something was terribly wrong.

“Jesse? JESSE?!” I screamed, popping my own ear drum. I turned around seeing both windows in the back shattered. Jesse’s body lay slumped forward in an inhuman position. “JESSE?! JESSE!” I screamed over and over again…wishing…praying…please respond…please wake up…please…

Clark’s eyes were wide in horror…he had blood covering the side of his face that Jesse was on…I reached back, grabbing Jesse’s shoulders much like he’d grabbed my own only ten minutes prior. I pushed him back, trying to get him to sit up straight..

I fell back in my seat.

I threw up instantly.

My eyes were wide in horror.

I knew at that moment…

…Jesse’s face would never leave my mind.

If it wasn’t for Peter losing control of the car and flipping it five times, I probably would’ve still been looking at Jesse’s unrecognizable face.