Page 3 of Crusher

I swallow hard, feeling the boy’s, eyes on my back, and I try to pay attention to the clock, counting down the minutes until I can leave, until I get to breathe in the ice.

My body trembles, and I have a need to turn around and speak to him, but I hold myself back, like I always do.

Growing up, life wasn’t easy.

Mom worked full-time in a café she bought with my father's dirty money, not caring where it came from. Her job seemed more important than me, while my father, the scum that he is, left three years ago with his mistress, after being in and out of mine and my mom's life.

Drugs, guns, women… You name it, he brought it back without a care in the world, and my mom, being a pushover, allowed it, until he finally broke her.

She struggled when he left for the last time with his arm around a woman who had track marks on her arms. She spent months drowning her sorrows, barely going into the café that kept the trailer over our heads until it didn’t.

She acted heartbroken despite the several women he brought home, and when he didn’t bring a woman home that he claimed was just a friend, he stunk of beer and a woman's perfume. I’ve been trying to help keep us afloat since, working four to ten at the local diner while trying to keep a perfect average in school all while mom struggles to keep her café open.

No one likes the service, no one likes the food, heck, someone actually tried to sue her for food poisoning before their lawyer explained she had nothing. She refuses to see how much her business is failing, dammit, her hygiene is a one-star for Christ's sake. The only reason why she hasn’t been shut down by pest control is because she gave the guy a blowjob and no, that is not something a daughter should walk in on after she received several panicked messages and thought it was an emergency.

Mom was hoping I’d pay the man off despite barely keeping us afloat, and because I wasn’t there on time, you know, being in school and all that crap, she got on her knees, proving to everybody that she is trailer trash. I refuse to be like her.

I need to complete high school, get my diploma, preferably with honors, and get the heck out of dodge, not go all ga-ga on a future brother who, let's face it, will probably be exactly like my father.

I shake my head as I gently tap the table with my nail in frustration and eye the clock.

I shouldn’t be in here, and that jackass Mr. Cool didn’t even hesitate to give me detention for punching Jacobs, despite seeing the incident.

I’ll always be seen as the troubled kid from the trailer park

My best friend, Clark, knows how bad my home life is and how much I need the honors.

I glare at the clock, willing it to hurry up. My goal is just in sight and as soon as I graduate, I don’t care what state my mother is in, I’ll be leaving and hopefully I can find somewhere else to settle down. Maybe get a job at an ice rink, even if it’s in the gift shop, I don’t care, as long as I’m near the ice. I have loved it since watching the nutcracker on ice when I was five with school then took lessons with the youth group a social worker got me involved with. I just need to leave, I can’t stay here anymore and watch my mom purposely waste away, all because my father left.

Dad's priority was his little thugs, the Chargers, and what they wanted came before anything and anyone else. Him being gone is a good thing, I just wish mom saw it that way, especially when I’ve heard that they rape women and sell kids.

It’s bad enough that she accepted the money for her café knowing it was probably earned from their trafficking business, but to pine after the man is disgusting.

Mr. Gracie looks at the clock before shaking his head, then says, “Alright, you two, get gone,” and I don’t hesitate.

I quickly stand and grab my bag before heading to the door, trying to ignore the figure following behind me.

I walk halfway down the empty hallway, but pause when a hand gently grabs my forearm, sending a shockwave through me that makes me swallow my gasp, and I look at the person.

I lock eyes with the darkest blue ones I have ever seen for the second time in a matter of ten minutes that completely suck me in, and it scares the living crap out of me.

I’ll admit, before going into detention, I was interested. I never really am, but his eyes got to me, plus I liked the tattoos, the lip ring and the fact he has his hair in a man bun. Then I saw his vest, the one that says prospect and I knew I had to walk away, even if I wanted to speak to him.

My last, I guess, fling that I thought was a relationship ended with the guy taking my virginity, then screwing my mom, paying her a hundred bucks after she waited for him to finish with me.

Safe to say I broke his nose when I walked out of my room, feeling like I made one hell of a mistake, wishing I had waited a few more years.

Mom groaned, complaining that I lost her a good dicking, and I should learn to share, and I told her to go to hell while stomping really hard on Henry's hard dick, breaking it and haven’t let another man touch me since, so the fact that I even have interest in this guy says a lot, but that vest…

I don’t trust the MC. I don’t trust men in general because of my dad, but I don’t trust the MC either, or the town’s apparent love for them.

I caught my father screwing one of their men in the ass when I was ten, while grunting about the next pickup, and as I got older, I realized the pickup was of innocent children.

So, as I said, I don’t trust the MCs, and it’s bad enough that Linc, my best friend who stays in my bed platonically because eww, the guy is like a brother, hangs around with them.

We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember, and despite all the crap my mom does, she knows his mom is a druggie and allows Linc to stay at our home. If you ask me, I think she wants to screw him with the way she looks at him and the glares I get when he walks out of my room.

“Can I help you?” I ask coldly, trying to control the urge to kiss the man.