Page 3 of Psychos In Love
“See, I told you. Now get comfortable. We’re going to be here for at least two hours.”
As the needle moves around my tender skin, the memory hits me. My sweet mother, gone in the blink of an eye. The pain in my heart overtakes the pain in my shoulder. Sniffling, I close my eyes, trying to stay within the present and not get stuck in the past. Stuck on the man’s eyes that still haunt my dreams.
“Sweetie, I know this is hard. But you’ve come so far. One more sweep across the tail and then we’re finished.”
I know that Amy assumes I’m thinking about the tattoo and how it’s hurting. But I’m not. “All right.” I clear my throat and think about how Amy has always been such a good friend. I’ve known her for the last year. If I hadn’t switched my chemistry lab, I wouldn’t have her as a friend. She hates science but I was able to help her through our labs.
Cold cream hits my skin and I blink away my wayward thoughts. “The tattoo is all done. Here, look.” She turns a mirror around so I can see her work. Tears well in my eyes, and I nod.
“It’s perfect.”
After another round of hugs, Amy ushers me outside, telling me to get home as quickly as possible. The wind whips my hair about as I zip up my coat. I shiver and wonder why the air is so crisp. I tremble as my stomach rumbles, signaling I need to eat. As the wind picks up once again, I curse myself for not having a car or a cellphone.
It’d be nice to call an Uber. Five more blocks, I tell myself. My stomach is not having it though. Huffing in agitation, I walk into the 24-hour gas station on the worst corner of the neighborhood. Pulling out my money, I become disheartened. Five dollars. Five stinking dollars. Oh well, a bag of chips and a candy bar will have to do.
“Hey Eddie.” The clerk that is always reading magazines and chewing tobacco looks up at me. His face lights up as he puts his magazine down and spits into his cup.
“Charlotte, good to see you, sugar.” I chuckle and stop to talk to him, asking him about his wife. He chats with me for quite a bit before going back to his magazine. I smile and look at the food as my stomach rumbles.
“Put your money away, sugar. Get you some food, it’s on the house.” I smile at Eddie, as heat warms my cheeks.
“Thank you, Eddie.”
I try not to think about the fact that Eddie gives me free food once a week or so. I go around the store picking out food that could last up to a week. I don’t want him to think I’m taking advantage. I don’t have a car, so I’m stuck between Sandy’s Bar, this gas station, and my apartment on most days. I have my items in hand when a commotion happens at the front of the store.
Yelling ensues and my heart rate goes wild inside of my chest. I try to relax but as the mean voices continue, I hide behind a drink display.
“Where’s our money, Eddie?”
What money?Is Eddie in trouble? I stop myself. What am I doing? I stand up and make my way toward the front. The cocking of a gun makes me stop dead in my tracks.
“Eddie, you have to the count of three to give us what we’re owed or I’m going to put a bullet in that old noggin of yours. Do you understand me?”
Eddies’ old voice cracks, and as he speaks, he looks right at me. His eyes bulge from his head as his pupils grow large. My breathing intensifies as he looks at me and glances toward the back of the store, pleading with me to run and hide. I duck right back down behind the drink display. “Here’s your money, now get out.”
I’m able to see the guys in the mirrored glass of the drink cases. The one on the left has on a wife beater, blue jeans, and a pair of black boots. Tattoos line his arms. Dear me, he looks like a god. Black hair with silver in it. I can remember that. I have a photographic memory, so I know I’ll remember all of this forever. The middle one—I blink in shock—he has on a three-piece tailored suit. My eyes roam over him, landing on his auburn locks and clean skin—a complete contrast to the first man.Got it. My attention lands on the third man, scanning over his black cargo pants and dark hoodie. Three quite different men, yet they’re together. I commit everything to memory and know I’ll be able to help Eddie as soon as they’re gone.
As I’m in my head, the door chimes and I look up as Eddie stands over me. He reaches out a hand and I grab it. “What…what’s going on Eddie?”
Eddie helps me up, sighing, unable to look at me with his swollen eyes. “Those are the Power’s Brothers. They own this side of town. You see them by yourself, you run. Run as fast as you can. Do you understand me?”
I nod. “Good, now let’s get you out of here.”
“Eddie, we need to call the police. I’m sorry I don’t have a cellphone, or I would have already done it.” He starts laughing, hard.
“No police, sugar. They own the police on this side of town as well. You live, what, two blocks? Get home. Straight home. Make no stops.”
He puts my items in a bag and I leave, my heart feeling strange. My mind races as I start my journey home. We should have called the police anyway. What if they’re going to do worse things? Why were they demanding money? My mind spins too fast for me to process everything as I open a bottle of water and try to calm my nerves.
Sandy’s Bar comes into view, and I smile. They’re busy for a Wednesday night. Sandy’s Bar marks the one block mark for me. Now I must pass the old newspaper office on the right and then turn the corner. I hate walking past the newspaper office. It stinks so bad. Squatters are always in there, doing god knows what. Taking a deep breath, I book it past the place and as soon as I turn the corner, I let my breath out, breathing a little easier.
The biggest obstacle though, is Dead Man’s Alley. The air around Dead Man’s Alley screams out into the night. This place churns my stomach. It’s the only way to the apartment and if I keep my head down, I will make it. “Keep walking,” I repeat continuously to myself.
My ears perk up at what sounds like a scuffle. Angry voices. Sobbing. The sound of something wet splattering on the ground. My back hits the wall of the building I was passing. “Don’t look Charlotte. Don’t look.”
Curiosity seeps into my brain. Before I can tell myself not to look again, I step around the building and freeze. A man is standing above two bodies on the ground—baseball bat in hand, laughing like a maniac. Fear grips me as I watch the man bring the bat down, hitting the body closest to him. He turns, bringing the bat again toward the other body. The sound of the baseball bat hitting the bodies echoes in my brain as my lower lip trembles. This cannot be happening.
“No,” the word comes from somewhere a little deeper in the alley. I peel my eyes away from the grotesque scene to stare at the other two men that had been in the store. The guy with the wife beater on, holds a sobbing woman in his arms. His hands squeeze tightly around her throat as she struggles to yank free from his grip. My heart cracks in my chest as I choke back my own sobs for the woman. Her high heels scrape across the asphalt as I try to focus on the scene taking place right in front of me.
