Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Just an FYI

Everything on this site is my property Copyright 2012- K. C. B. Please do not steal my work to make it your own.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Fresh Meat (unfinished)

The sky above the cemetery was the same blue of the melted crayon that I had left on mommas front porch three years ago. She had tried harder than dirt to get it off but the cerulean splotch wouldn't come off. She had called me forgetful, but said even she forgot where her head was from time to time. That was before we learned about the cancer.
"We are gathered here to honor the life of Daisy Kimber." The pastor started.
  Not that the pastor knew anything about momma since she wasn’t too religious. Still she made me go to church on Christmas Eve and Easter, saying it was our duty to the Lord, not that He helped me any in my life. She used to dress me up all nice on those days too. My hair would be in pigtails and she’d always be disappointed when my dresses would be covered in grass stains by the end of the night. I told her the boys dared me, but she just would smile and pat me on my head, tellin me I was just like my grand mami, rest her soul. She would tell me stories of grand mami. I wish I had paid more attention to those stories.
  I could feel my dog Scout scootch a bit closer next to me and I laid one hand on his furry head while the other continued to rub thumb to finger. I watched as the casket that held my momma dropped into the dark hole.
People from all walks of momma's life, past and present, came to show compassion but I didn't recognize a one. A hand grabbed my shoulder, and I could feel Scout pull at his leash.
"Come on, Annie," my father said as he shook the hands of a few mourners who passed.
"It's Anabell," I said as I stood and brushed off my jeans. "I haven't been Annie since I was 6."
He turned back to me. "Sorry," He reached for my bag "Here let me get that."
"I'm fine," I said as I slid my bag away from him "I got it."
We walked back to his truck in silence. I threw my bag in the truck bed before ushering Scout in as well. I noticed the beer cans but remained silent as I got in the passenger side.
As we pulled away from the cemetery, I watched the men start to throw the dirt back in the hole until we rounded the corner and momma was gone from sight.
We spent a few minutes in silence, my father rolled down his window before lighting a cigarette, and I watched out the window as we sped down the old dirt road. We passed the Johnson farm which must have burned down in the last 7 years. I remember praying I would never see this place again.
"I added a new section to the trailer," my father said.
I continued to stare at the dust on the window.
"Figured it could use more room with a certified teenager coming to live their,"
I watched as a tiny bug climbed the rear view mirror.
"It isn't finished or nothin', but at least it can be a place for you to call home."
I turned and looked at him. "I will never call your double wide home."
"I'm just trying to be a good dad An..Why won't you let me?"
I scoffed. As if he would ever change.
"Will you at least talk to me?"
The car came to a stop in front of the ratty lookin’ trailer. One side seemed as if it had half of another trailer welded on. I stepped out of the car. I could hear the dead grass crunch under my feet.
"Look I know it ain't much Annie.."
"Anabell," I said.
"Anabell, but I hope you learn to like it," he said as he picked up my bag from the bed.
I grabbed Scout's leash as he jumped down and I lead him into the house.
"Uh Anni....Anabell I was thinking maybe you can leave him out back until I get your area finished," My father said.
"Fine," I shouted back as I lead Scout in through the front door, noticing the gun he had bought due to momma's namesake, and out to the back. "Go on boy."
I walked back inside and into my room. It didn't look like it had changed since momma and I left here when I was 6. The pepto pink walls seemed to have turned a bit grey with all the dust clinging to them. Even the pictures were in the same place. I never thought I would see this place again.
I walked into the kitchen, the nicotine stained walls seemed to reflect an almost brown color in the florescent light. I opened the fridge and freezer, scanning. Microwavable Salisbury steaks and a couple ice trays were all that sat in the freezer.
I grabbed a cola from the fridge and walked back to my room, locking the door behind me. I started to unpack. I heard Scout bark and I made my way to the back door. I looked out to see my father raising his hand.
I opened the door. "What do you think you are doing?"
My father turned and I could see a tennis ball in his hand. "Just playing,"
I raised an eyebrow before walking over to Scout. I knelt next to him.
"I remember when we bought Scout. You were both so tiny." My father said. "You used to tie a bone to your tricycle to get him to follow you."
I could remember that, but the fights flashed and I shook my head.
"Well thanks for the history lesson," I said as I stood "What's for dinner?"
"Um well I haven't had a chance to go shopping. How does pizza sound?"
"Fine"
"You still like pepperoni?"
"Whatever," I said as I walked back to the house.
I heard my father follow me in and grab the phone off the hook. I sat by the tv and flipped the channels.
"Hey turn on Bill."
I rolled my eyes and turned the channel to the Bill Engvall show. I stood and made my way back to my room.
"It'll be about 15 minutes," my father shouted.
"Whatever," I said.
I finished unpacking just in time for the pizza to arrive.
We sat in silence at the dinner table as I grabbed 2 slices. I eyed his drink.
"Don't worry it's soda." He said.
It didn't smell like soda to me, but I continued to eat.
"Hey tomorrow we will go get some groceries and stuff. Maybe even enroll you in school."
"Oh joy," I said as I dropped my 3rd crust.
"Oh it won't be that bad," he said as he took our paper plates and tossed them into the recycling bin with the pizza box.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I could feel the bad leg wobble under me.
"You know I am sorry about what I did when you were young right?"
"I'm going to bed," I said.
"Annie...."
"It's Anabell. Just Anabell. You lost every right to call me Annie when you beat my momma," I said as I turned and headed back to my room. "And I don't believe for a second that that was cola!" I shouted before slamming my door.
I laid down and stared at the ceiling. I felt my eyes fall and when I woke the window in my room was dark. I yawned and the taste in my mouth seemed to beg for water. I stood and walked to my door. I unlocked the lock and opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible as I walked to the kitchen. I could see my father laying on the couch with a bottle of Wild Turkey. I froze. I moved quietly into the kitchen and quickly filled a glass with water.
I turned to go back to my room and my father stood in the kitchen doorway.
"That wasn't nice Annie."
"John, just go back to bed."
"Why don't you love me any more Annie?"
"John, you're drunk."
"You sound just like your mother always did. Why won't you call me daddy like all the other good girls?"
I set the glass on the counter as I searched for anything to defend myself with. I felt a knife on the counter and grabbed it, holding it up.
My father smirked and pushed his chest against the knife. "Do it little Annie. Your momma couldn't."
I could see my hand shaking "Just back up. I don't want to have to hurt you."
My father grabbed my arm. "I think it's bed time."
The knife clattered to the floor as he picked me up. I kicked at him, but his grip didn't loosen.
"Let me go!" I screamed.
He dropped me on my bed. "Don't make me teach you a lesson."
I backed up towards the wall. I could hear Scout barking outside.
"Just go to bed John. Please."
He came to sit on my bed. "Oh Annie, you have become such a beautiful young lady."
He rubbed my cheek and I shuddered.
"Have you learned about the birds and the bees, or did your momma not teach you that stuff."
I froze. I could feel my eyes grow wide. "No.." I whispered.
"Now now Annie, every girl your age needs to know these things."
"Please.. no"
Scout continued to bark.
"Goddammit dog!" He said as he got up.
I heard the back door open. I ran to my door and locked the chain lock.
Scout stopped barking.
"That's better," I heard my father say as he came closer to my room. He pushed on the door. "Annie, let your old man in. Be a good girl,"
I backed up to my bed.
He pushed at the door and I could see the chain starting to pull apart. I ran at the door, trying to push it closed.
He slammed it open and I fell to the ground.
"Bad girls get punished Annie."
He grabbed my hair and forced me onto the bed.
"No!" I screamed.
His hands wrapped around my throat. "Not another word Annie," he said as he started to unbutton his pants. "I just need to teach you a lesson." He kissed on my throat and the smell of whiskey made me gag.
I kicked at him, trying to find any escape. I grabbed the picture from my bed stand and slammed it on his head.
"Fuck!" He screamed before I felt the sting of his fist on my cheek and everything went black.
I was home with momma and Scout and they were comforting me, letting me know it would all be okay. I could smell momma’s basil and mint shampoo and I felt at ease. I was free of the nightmare hell.
I woke in my bed. The sky was filled with light now. I got out of bed. My whole body felt like I’d been run over, spat on and then run over again, and I couldn’t open my left eye. As I passed the mirror by my door I could see blood on my leg.
I stumbled to the kitchen to make an ice pack. I washed the blood off of my leg before spying the pile of steaks sitting on the counter, genuine steaks, and Scouts collar sat next to them. I got my ice pack on my eye and I walked into the living room to find my father sucking on a bone. He set it down as he picked up a cup of coffee. The TV was loud with the sound of the Today show.
"Morning sleepy head," he said.
"Where is Scout."
"Haven't seen him this morning. Hey wanna go down to the carnival like we used to? I'll let you ride the roller coaster."
As he glanced at the newspaper I picked up the gun hanging by the door that John kept loaded in case of trouble.
"Or we could go to the art museum. You used to love that. We could make fun of the paintings."
I aimed the rifle at his head and closed my eyes before pulling the trigger.
I slid to the floor, speckled in blood, my hands still shaking from the shots recoil, and pushed the gun away, only then realizing it was a Kimber rifle.
Copyright-2012