Hell She Screams

Chapter Five

The Left Hand of Justice

I walked in and tossed my keys on the counter, followed closely by Artemis and Starr. Artie pushed up my shirt and ran his large palm along my side.

I shoved him back. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Don't be such a bitch. They're broken."

"You're broken!" I spat drunkenly.

I jerked my shirt back down and sought out a needle. Artemis had drugs stashed all around the house. It was not hard to find a bit of tar. I shot up and waited for the numb to over take me one vein at a time. I sat on the edge of my bed and buried my bruised face into my hands.

Starr laid down on the couch. Artemis came to sit beside me. He began fiddling with my shirt again. I gave in, leaning forward to afford him a better angle. He gently lifted my arms and pulled the bloody fabric over my head. He got up and stepped into the bathroom.

"You got them mummy wraps?" He called out to me.

"Bandages? No." I tried not to talk loudly. My lungs filling with air felt like a hammer was being taken to my abdomen.

He walked back out and began tearing up my shirt.

"That's nice, Artie. I didn't need that. I have so many clothes." I exaggerated.

"Quit yer bitchin'." He began wrapping it around me and tying it tightly.

"Did you set the bones?"

"This'll do. A doctor wouldn't do it no differently."

"Thanks. Now get off my bed."

The sound of his chuckle surprised me. "So, you want me to go sleep on the couch with Starr?"

"No!" I was jilted with pain from the force of my words. "I don't want you to sleep with her or touch her or even look at her! Stay the fuck away from her!"

His face contorted with clear bemusement. "Why is that?"

"Because we're together."

"You never said anything about us being together."

"Artie, not you and I. Starr and I." I sighed.

He laid down and stuffed a pillow behind his head. "So, why is she different? After everything we share, we can't be sharin' some dumb cunt?"

I was not going to argue with him about his choice of name for her. "No, Artie. Not this time."

He reached up, gripped my shoulder, and pulled me down to the bed beside him.

"I don't want you sleeping here, asshole."

"So, don't fall asleep."

A mixture of the heroine and his warmth made that impossible.

I woke up to him stroking my hair. I shoved his hand away. It felt good, but I could not just keep letting him get away with treating me the way he did. He took me for granted far too often. Still, it was becoming increasingly difficult to come up with a reason to get out of bed.

"Shit." I moaned. "I do not want to go to work today." I was lying. I did not care. I only wanted to bye a few more minutes wrapped in his heat. His chest rocked the bed slightly as he chuckled. How did he always know when I was lying, despite picking up on little else? He ran his hand along the back of my neck and stroked the undergrowth of hair. My eyes slid shut and I laid there moments longer, before giving into my duties and getting ready for work.

I shot up before I left. I made up a second needle, placed the cap back on it, and put it into my pocket for when I would need a hit later in the day. I rested for a few minutes before I left. Getting dressed had irritated my wounds.

The break had put me back almost a half an hour. I had just enough time to stop for gas, coffee, and a burrito for breakfast at a convenience store. I sped the rest of the way to the school.

"Good morning." I announced. "Today you will be working on your bios. Take them out and go where you need to go."

Everyone readjusted. The majority of the students walked out. Nathan came to sit beside me.

"What happened to you?" He whispered.

"Does it really look that bad?"

His eyes widened. Apparently it did.

"Ryan, you look like you got run over."

I laughed. "Yeah, that's about what it feels like, too. I got into a little scuffle with some guys."

"And lost?"

I blushed. "Obviously."

I unwrapped the burrito and tore into it. I had not eaten in almost twenty-four hours. I was always either too high or too drunk to notice my own hunger. With the first bite, my stomach panged. I wanted more.

Gagging noises brought my attention to the class. Lauren covered her mouth with a paling hand, and continued to gag. I shook my head.

"Aren't you being a little dramatic?"

She stood suddenly, knocking her chair to the ground. Without another word, she ran from the room.

I sat, stunned, burrito still in my mouth.

"Is she okay?" Nathan asked aloud.

Chris jumped up and ran after her.

Tyrone shook his head. "I know that look. She got a mini-Chris brewing in there. Boy, I got six nephews. I recognize that nastiness anywhere."

That was a difficult situation. Lauren and Chris were two of my most gifted students. They were the most likely to succeed, behind Kasey. With a baby on the way, they would have to make some difficult decisions.

I walked out after them. I was worried. I was there for them, and they needed to know that. I walked into the girls' bathroom, where they would inevitably be. Two sophomore girls shoved passed me, no doubt escaping from the noises and smells Lauren's morning sickness was emitting.

Chris used a piece of toilet paper to sweep the cigarette ash the girls had left off of the toilet seat. "I'm sorry." He murmured to her. "I don't know what to do for you."

"It smells like smoke. It's making me sick. Everything makes me sick," She whined.

"I know, baby." He cooed, and wiped the ash away more quickly. I leaned against the door frame for a moment and watched them. They were lucky to have each other. I wondered for a moment if I would ever find anyone like that.

I walked over to their stall and dropped to my knees behind Lauren. I took the tissue from Chris and flushed it along with the contents of her stomach. "Hold her hair," I said to him gently.

He nodded, his eyes wide with fright. He gently pulled back her ash blonde hair.

"I don't know what to do." He whispered to me.

"You're doing fine, Chris." I could not have known that for a fact, since I had never been around anyone pregnant before. I had, however, nursed a fair share of drunken women. I only guessed the concept was about the same. Chris looked comforted. He used his other hand to stroke her head.

I got to my feet. "Tell me if you two need anything."

"We will," Chris nodded up at me, and then back down at Lauren, still just as concerned.

Lauren lifted up her hand and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "We will. Thank you, Mr. Ryan." She gave me a weak smile before starting to retch again.

I patted Chris' back and walked out of the bathroom.

A wiry-looking freshman stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. I waved.

He took off down the hallway.

I would have yelled after him to not run, just to scare him more, but my ribs would not have allowed the effort.

I walked out, planning on finally stopping in at the police station. I still had not pressed any charges against Lacey. I needed to hurry before the statute of limitations was up. There would be no justice after my twenty-third birthday.

Out beside Natalie stood Nathan. He dropped a cigarette and snuffed it out with his shoe as I walked up to him.

"What are you doing?" I asked slowly.

He shrugged and piled into the tiny vehicle. I followed suit.

"I need a ride, and we still have to work on the project." He said simply.

"That's fine, I just have to stop by the police station first."

He shrugged. I mimicked the gesture and drove.

The station was deep in the down-town area of the city. Dozens of police cruisers were parked outside of it. I made sure to mind my driving as i pulled in.

"Wait here. I shouldn't be long." I said to him. He nodded and turned up the radio.

The staff officer slid open the window as I walked in. "Can I help you?" He asked monotoned.

"I would like to press charges." I answered.

"Concerning?"

"Sex." I responded automatically.

He raised and eyebrows at me. It was not what I had meant to say.

"Uh," I stammered to correct myself. "Rape, actually. Statutory."

He nodded this time. "Have a seat. Someone will be with you after they draw up the necessary paperwork."

I sat and listened to the loud bell screech every time a civilian walked through the door. For over thirty minutes, I watched them flood in and out, most of them needing their lights inspected and for an officer to sign off on their ticket. I tapped my foot and fidgeted nervously. This was what I had been waiting for, yet I could not overcome the anxiety.

"Sir." An officer beckoned. He stood about an inch taller than me. His hair was grey and buzzed against his scalp. I got a chill as I followed him back to his desk. He sat down and began to type.

"Do you have any identification?" He asked without looking up at me.

I dug around in my pocket, avoiding accidentally pulling the needle out along with it. I carefully pulled out my wallet and handed him my license. He typed my information in to the computer.

"Is this your current address?" He asked coolly.

"Yes." I said.

"What is your birth date?"

"It's on my license." I pointed out.

"What is your birth date?"

I sighed. "September twenty-second."

He typed it in. "Well, Matthew, you seem to have quite the record. What did you say you were here for?"

"To press charges against-"

"Of course you are."

I shook my head. He interrupted me without having any idea what I was about to say.

He stared at me. "Well?"

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Matthew, if you are not going to take this seriously, then please leave. If you are, then tell me what you accusations are."

"My mother raped me." I blurted.

He grimaced. "Your mother? He asked, doubt clouding his voice.

"And her boyfriend. When I was little."

"Really? So, this was before you went to prison for... what was it? Manslaughter?"

"Involuntary." I added.

"Irrelevant. Listen, I'm going to put this through for you, because it's my job. I will say this first: I am sick and tired of felons waltzing in here and trying to work the system."

"I'm not!" I snapped, without the strength to say more.

"Of course you aren't sick of it. You're one of the ones doing it."

"That's not what I meant. I just meant that I'm not trying to get anything out of this. Besides justice." My cheeks burned. I just told him that I had been raped, and he turned it around on me. I was humiliated. My bruised chest felt tight.

"If there was any justice, you would still be in prison." He shoved the papers toward me. "Look, kid, just detail it on the statement. Include any exact dates and evidence that you may have, which I'm sure you don't."

"There are videos." I said. My voice was tight. I was beginning to lose patience with the biased man. The idea that someone could not be both accused of a crime and a victim seemed unnecessarily harsh. The officer was clearly just as jaded as I was, if not more.

"Really?" He sneered. "In your possession?"

"Internet."

He laughed. "Well good luck proving their authenticity."

I began to scribble out her offenses on the paper. It felt so wrong. Writing it out made it all feel meaningless. My statement was void of any trauma or emotion or importance any of the events had had on my life.

When I was eight she touched me. When I was nine, she let others touch me. When I was ten, she let others have sex with me. When I was eleven, it was a part of a business transaction for drugs.

I dug the pen into the paper. I was not only writing about what she did, but also engraving it. Maybe if I kept pressing, my experiences and fear would flow onto the page, compressed into the words themselves. Maybe the horror the woman put me through would finally mean something, someone would actually care. I wanted someone to read this and feel my pain, my torment. I wanted someone to fill in every blank between every word with images of a child being manipulated and molested every day for seven years. I could would never be able to put my anger into words, so I simply bore down harder.

"I hope you know that the DA will never touch this in a million years." He said when I had completed it. I pressed my lips together and gave him a jerky shrug. My heart raced and my mind followed suit with thoughts of trashing the corrupted cop's office. I suppressed it. My fist balled and shook with anger. I walked back out to my car and dug the needle out from my pocket.

"Shit!" Nathan said. "You're going to do that here?"

I shot him a look. If he made a scene, I would not hesitate to throw him from my car. It was nothing that Nathan had done, but rather the mood that led me to such intolerance.

"Oh my god, what the hell?!" He panicked. "I didn't know you did that!" He hissed.

I ignored him and finished shooting up. Then shifted the car into drive and headed for the nearest gas station.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" He whispered, attempting to not make my mood worse. He must have been desperate to not go home. He chose me over whatever awaited him at his house. He was stupid.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. The heroine worked to calm me. Despite this, annoyance still lined my words as I said, "Do what you want."