“Leave. Please,j-j-just go,” I stammer out.
“81, listen. I got her. I won’t go until I know she’s ok.” Timberly’s voice is reason in this storm that happened without warning. Like a hurricane just erupted out of nowhere.
“Little bird, we are not finished. I will be back.” Banging my head against the door at his words like hell there is nothing here.
“We will see,” I snap out. I am tired. He is tiring. This façade is tiring. Being someone, I’m not is tiring.
“81!” I hear the warning in her tone, this woman is strong and screams fierceness.
“Ok, ok. I’m going, I’m going,” I hear him say as I hear her stand.
“You fucking don’t leave her, little lady.” Now, it is my turn to feel the hit of his words. Weirdly it makes me feel safe.
“I won’t.” Her tone is sweet and full of promise. Why are they so… well kind?
I can hear his heavy-booted steps trail down the metal stairs that lead to the back of the shop. Not long after that, I hear the rumble of his bike scream down the street. Letting out the breath I was holding, tears well and seem to sprinkle down my cheeks without me even knowing it. They were standing behind my eyes just waiting to break free.
“Jade, open up please, he’s gone.” The concern in her voice hurts me. Why should these people care? They don’t know me. Slowly with shaking hands I lift my fingers to the latch. I unlock the first one, then the second and the third. Then I slip the chain from the fourth lock and twist the knob slightly, moving so she can slip in through the crack. I slam the door hard and fast as soon as she enters, locking it again.
I watch her under my heavy bangs and wet eyelashes as she scans the door and all its locks. My shaking fingers drop from the locks back down to my lap.
“Whoa, babe, got enough locks? Who you are keeping out, the grim reaper?” Her tone is slightly laced with a laugh.
“Well, yes!” I snap out, full of cold and hate “That’s exactly who I’m keeping out.” Again, my voice is cold. This is not me. Why am I being this cold and harsh?
“Whoa. Ok, babe, it’s all good,” she says causally. “Well, let’s get you up, ok?” Her hands come out at me and I scurry back into the door willing it to open and swallow me.
“Look!” I scream out lifting my bangs and exposing the massive scar from a past that had nearly killed me. “Look at this!” I point to it before pulling myself up and pulling up my shirt showing her the scars all over my torso and belly.
“They run all over my back and down my legs also,” I scream out at her. She watches me walking backward, coaxing me silently to follow her, and I do. I don’t know why. The room is full of natural light from massive windows that open to the street below.
“Cool scars,” she says smiling, fucking smiling, at me.
“Funny is it?” raising my eyebrow at her, as anger bubbles inside me.
“Nope, but we all have them, babe,” she says turning to look out the window.
“We all have pasts that are horrific, and then some have the happy as well, but I know for women like us there isn’t much happy, babe.”
Shock hits me like a kick in the face and I love the way that it hurts. It reminds me that there are humans like me out there. She turns slowly, her hands rolling up her sleeves and I see the scars from old track marks.
“Needles, babe.” I search her eyes. “Drugged, not by choice.” Her hands fall to the top of her jeans, undoing the button, then the zipper, she peels the tight black denim from her legs. What hits me hard in the face is her scars… just as red, just as deep, just as angry as mine.
“I get it, doll. I get the pain, the dark and the nightmare. Just like 81 does, hence his caveman approach. He sees it, so rest your mind we are all the same.” I walk closer to her, my feet heavy like lead slowing my approach more than my brains wants. As my fingers trace over her scars, tears fall from my eyes and her hand finds my scar on my face.
“We all have stories, babe.” Her voice is soft and calming and for the first time in ages I do not feel like a monster, I feel human.
“Thank you,” I push out through a lump in my throat.
“For what, babe?” her voice sounds confused.
“For understanding.” Pulling my hand back my eyes meet hers as one tear falls down my cheek mirroring the one falling down hers.
“You’re so pretty when you cry Jade, even with all your scars. Believe me, 81 is a good one.”
Shaking my head at her as I fan my bangs fall down, I walk toward the kitchen.
I open the cupboard and Timberly laughs out loud at me as I wiggle my eyebrows. “Want one?” I question holding up a bottle Jameson Whiskey.
