“Dad, I told you on the phone I wasn’t going to do a damn thing to her no matter what you said to me, and I meant it. She gets out of here without a hair on her head touched or we will never be able to get out of this fucked up mess alive.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you little bastard? You don’t call the shots here, I do. I brought you into this world, you fucking punk ass bitch, and I sure as fuck won’t hesitate to take you the fuck out of it.”

He spits all over the damn place when he spews his fowl words at his son. Even though I am scared shitless, I am about ready to tell this asshole where he can shove it. It’s no wonder this man I am clinging onto as if my life depends on it is the way he is. James Calloway is a repulsive human being. He evokes the deepest form of hatred in my being.

“You’re drunk, Dad. When was the last time you had something to eat?” Trent asks kindly.

I don’t know if he is being sincere or not. I am sure a part of him cares about this man standing in front of us, but who gives a flying fuck if he eats or not? I sure as hell don’t.

              “What do you care boy? You gonna make me some food?”

James laughs as he turns around and staggers into the house. Trent grabs my hand and pulls me forward with him. When the smell of the inside of this house assaults my senses, I have to place my free hand over my nose. The acrid smell burns my nostrils and I can taste it deep in my throat. It smells old, dusty, and damp. Rancid, even. The door slams shut with a loud squeak and I jump. Trent squeezes my hand as if trying to reassure me.

We walk deeper into the room. There is a small kitchen table with a few mismatched chairs and a kitchen off to the right. Dirty dishes cover every surface in sight. No wonder it smells in here, it’s just as filthy on the inside as it is on the outside. The white fridge is covered in a thick layer of black dust.

There are piles of shit everywhere, from papers to empty pizza boxes, all strewn across the table. Beer bottles and cans and empty liquor bottles in clear plastic bags are piled up in one corner while in another corner sits a small round table with a bag of white powder, razor blades, and rolled up dollars. Holy shit, it’s cocaine! This is the shit pile my husband has been kept in. I feel my blood start to boil looking at this damn mess. This place needs to be burned to the damn ground with this smug ass bastard in it.

“So what do you propose we do now, boy? Now that this bitch has fucked it all up for us and that money is good as flushed down the fucking toilet?”

“Come on, Dad. You know it’s not her fault. Jesus, can’t you stay off of the damn booze for one damn day so we can figure out how to get the hell out of here before the cops show up?”

Trent speaks as if he is pleading for this piece of shit’s help.

“You hearing me, Trent? WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW? I say we kill that bastard son of mine in the other room, and then kill his pretty little wife. After I fuck her, first.”

As soon as I hear him say Turner is in the other room, I lose all sense of reason. I loosen my grip on Trent and move in front of him.

“Where the hell is my husband?” I scream and start to storm towards the only hallway in the house.

              “Clove! Get back here!” Trent bellows from behind me. I run the few short steps it takes to get to the only closed door, but before I can reach for the doorknob I am suddenly jerked from behind and lifted up off of the ground.

“Trent! Put me down, now! He’s in there. God, let me go! Please!” I cry as I kick and scream and try to claw at his arms. He’s too strong, though. He carries me back into the small living room and sets me down on the ratty, filthy couch.

              “Sit down and shut your damn mouth.”

Trent points his finger at me. I hear unintelligible words spouting forth from the chair where his father is sitting.

“You are one crazy ass fucking bitch if you think I am letting you anywhere near him. Not until I am finished with you first.” James stands and staggers backwards bracing his hands on the arms of the chair.

              “Fuck you! You’re the crazy one here, not me!”

I have had it with his insults. Fuck him! He wants to continue to call me a bitch? I will show him what this bitch can do.

              “Fuck you, you fucking slobbering spineless dick! The money doesn’t even belong to you. It never has and it never will. You’re nothing but a little weasel who has hidden behind his drugs and booze all of his life. Who the hell do you think you are? You’ve all but destroyed both of your sons’ lives. What kind of person separates their child from their mother and their brother? Brings them up like you did Trent, showing them not one ounce of love whatsoever. You’re a real piece of work with your evil, corrupted, warped mind!”

A thunderous rage seeps out of James’ eyes, and his fists clench at his sides as I finish my little speech. When he speaks, I begin to realize I should have just done exactly what Trent told me to.

              “This is my house, and women speak when they are told to speak, and not before. And they sure as fuck don’t call me crazy. But since you think I am crazy, let me show you just how crazy I can be.”

Before I can even blink, James strikes me right in the jaw with his fist. My head snaps back from the blow, slamming me into the wall. For the longest time I can’t move as pain radiates from my cheek and mouth and the taste of blood dissolves on my tongue.

              “Get her the hell out of my face until I decide what the hell I am going to do with her.”

I open my eyes and his gaze is murderous and unblinking as a deadly viper. Trent quickly scoops me up into his arms and carries me down the short hallway. He stops at the open doorway directly across from the room I know Turner is in. I try to hear any kind of noise coming from that room and there is nothing. Could he be dead, or close to it? I panic and forget about my throbbing face. Trent carries me through the doorway and lays me calmly on top of a bed.

“Do you want to get yourself killed, Clove? Because you are heading in that very direction. I told you to keep quiet, and I meant it. You’re damn lucky he hasn’t killed you yet! He knows there is no reason to keep you alive so now, you’re stuck in this damn room until I can figure out what the hell to do.”

He turns to leave and I stamp down my anger for a brief minute or two.

“Trent, you have to go in there and make sure Turner is alive. Please?” I start crying and sobbing uncontrollably.

              “Get your fucking ass out here now and leave that bitch!” James shouts.

              “Fucking Christ. Stay put.” Trent slams the door shut, leaving me feeling all alone for the first time in days.

“Turn on the damn light!” I yell to no one. Great. Now I am sitting in the middle of a dirty fucking bed with who the hell knows what on this floor. I curve my body around, placing my feet on God only knows what. However, as I start to walk with my hands out trying to find the wall in hopes the light switch is by the door, I am assaulted with carpet. It feels soft and squishy underneath my barely there flip-flops. Finding the door, I scrabble my way until I finally find a light switch. When I flick it on, I am stunned to silence by what I see before me.

              “Holy shit.”

There is a small, black-framed bed up against the wall, with a dark gray comforter and matching pillows, and a matching dresser, which I am currently propped up against. The room is spotless, except for the small amount of dust that has made its home on top of the dresser. The room is tiny, and as I take a few steps my mouth drops open and I collapse to the floor, gaping openly at the pictures above the bed and all across the entire length of the wall.