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  For six months Ophelia kept her habit under control and worked a normal job as a cashier at a grocery store. Sadly the store cut back her hours and she was unable to find anything else. Being denied welfare and sufficient funds in food stamps, it wasn't long until she fell back into her weekend trade. In Fort Lauderdale she was able to serve her clients while staying under the radar. Everything seemed to be going better for her and her daughters. Ophelia was not using as excessively and she was able to have few boyfriends. Kelly and Emma went to school and they both received good marks while having separate social lives. As far as Ophelia could see, this was the place that they would be for quite a long time. Five years would pass before Dillon would call again.

  After serving a four and a half year stretch in the state prison, Dillon relocated to West Palm Beach where he went back to his old ways. He called Ophelia and told her that he loved her and that he had changed. She did not believe him and told him never to call again. His response was a threat to her and her daughters. Dillon told her that if he had to come looking for her then he would cut them up and feed them to sharks. The next day Ophelia told her daughters they were moving again, much to their disappointment, she rented and moving truck and started packing. Ophelia picked Vero Beach because it was three hours south and thought it was a small enough place that could she hide without being tracked.

  Now she finds herself in the same position as she cries into her pillow. Flashbacks of the hell that she put her and her daughters through flood her mind. Those times when she knew that she should just walk away from it all. Times when she knew better and questioned her motives. Drying her eyes, she knows that she cannot move again without telling her girls the truth. For so long she has kept so many things to herself, digging a one way hole into a bottomless pit. Alone she battles with the knowledge that she put her daughters in the sights of this mad man. Lighting another cigarette, she 76

  swears that no matter what happens, she will not move again because of Dillon.

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  CHAPTER 10

  Emma rests in Matt's arms, naked—the two bask in the warm afterglow of one another. Looking up at Matt, Emma asks, "Was that good?"

  "It was enjoyable."

  She cannot help but admire his quiet cool as she burns with excitement inside. After taking her beyond the limits of raw sexuality, she sees him as everything that she could have ever wanted. Only in fantastical dreams has she been this taken by a man. Before Matt, she would read her stories and become consumed by the male characters; yearning for someone like them. To Emma, these creatures possess the strength to carry the woes of their love with a lustful exuberance. Fighting for what they know is right, risking themselves without caution. In Emma's mind, her wishes of a perfect lover have been answered.

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  Matt slowly picks himself up from the comfort of his bed and steps down on to the floor. Emma bites her lip at his naked body, lusting over his chiseled physique. He confidently walks over and picks up a chalice from his shelf.

  Grabbing his dagger from the night stand, he takes Emma's left arm into his hand. She looks at him longingly as he holds her wrist over the cup. Gently running the edge of the blade up and down Emma's forearm, Matt can feel her muscles quiver in his grasp. Without warning her, he quickly inserts the blade into her flesh, puncturing a small hole in her vein.

  Emma slightly jerks at the feeling of the cut while Matt stares into her eyes. Holding her bleeding arm over the chalice, he slightly squeezes around the wound; forcing blood to drip into the elaborate cup. She watches her life's essence as it drains from her. Letting go of her arm, Matt grabs the cup and guzzles the blood from it. Like a beast, he flexes as he gulps the fluid down his throat. The copper flavor ferments upon his tongue as he looks into Emma's eyes.

  "You taste so sweet…"

  Cradling her wound, she smiles at him and replies, "You can have anything from me."

  Placing the chalice on his nightstand, he crawls on top of her. He kisses her deeply as he pins her arms to his bed.

  Pulling his lips from hers, he looks into her eyes and says,

  "Whatever I want, I'll take…"

  She kisses him back with heat as she wraps her legs around his waist. Pressing her down, he kisses her harder, pulling away with a bite on her bottom lip. Matt slides off of her and says, "I need a drink…"

  He exits from the bedroom and heads into the kitchen as Emma sits up. She wraps the bed sheet around her naked body and quickly follows Matt. Though she yearns to be as strong as Matt, her inhibitions constrain her. As much as she wants too, she cannot quiet those voices that sound in the back of her mind. They tell her she isn't pretty enough and that she does not have figure to be so open and honest. Words 79

  laced with self loathing ride her deepest thoughts with every movement she makes, screaming in different tones. No matter how much she tries to ascend from the negativity, her self-defeating worries drag her down time after time.

  Pouring himself some whiskey over ice, Matt asks, "You want somethin'?”

  "Nah, I just came out here to join you."

  Beneath the kitchen light, Emma fixes her eyes on Matt's blood caked flesh. Her jaw drops as she asks, "Is that my blood?"

  "Maybe," Matt says with a shrug. "You might want to dress your wounds."

  Emma looks at her bloodying wrist and her eyes go wide,

  "Jesus!" She gasps as she watches the thick crimson flow run down and drip off of her elbow.

  "Yeah, he had nothing to do with it." Matt takes a sip from his whiskey and continues, "… there are band aids in my bathroom, under the sink."

  Rushing off into the bathroom, Emma holds pressure to her bleeding arm. Matt lights himself another cigarette and shouts, "Playing with me can get a little messy sometimes… I don't mean too, it's just my nature to lust over carnal things."

  Coming out of the bathroom draped in a black bed sheet with white cloth bandages around her arms, Matt inhales her victimized look. Staring at her covered wounds, Matt sighs,

  "You're so fucking beautiful."

  A rush of red washes over Emma's face as she grins,

  "Thanks…"

  She does not think about why he said it, she is more content with the fact that he said it. Emma hears those words so little that when they grace her ears she does not think of their meaning. There are no questions that fill her mind, just the warm feeling that they bring. Matt knows that she harbors much weakness and that is what turns him on. He views his place in a girl's heart as the twisted pit that drives them to do what he wishes. As he cradles them in his arms, he can talk 80

  them into doing anything and he knows that he can get away with it.

  Most girls would not let Matt cut them, no matter how good he looks or how charismatic he is. For Matt, it takes a special breed of person, one that has been conditioned by society's rejection. These beaten souls will conform to be on the outskirts of normalcy at any cost. Girls like Emma who have been kicked and stepped on from so many men that they will put up with anything. They crave for acceptance while Matt craves something else—something much darker.

  Emma looks at her bandaged wrists, "Man, these hurt more now than they did before."

  Matt lights a little cigar and takes a sip from his whiskey glass. Exhaling a puff of smoke, he leans into her and asks,

  "Do you really know what hurt is?"

  Staring into his glaring eyes, Emma answers, "I think so…"

  "Let me see your arm…"

  Extending her wounded limb to Matt so trusting, Matt takes her arm and takes a deep drag from his cigar. Blowing out the smoke, he suddenly drives the burning end into her arm. Trying to pull away, Matt yells, "Don't fight it! Embrace it! When you learn to master your pain the possibilities become endless!"

  Whimpering deep breaths through her clinched teeth, she struggles to break away. Losing herself in the agony, tears fill her eyes as the pain shoots through her brain. The scent of burning flesh fills the air b
etween them while Matt fights to keep her angelic wing still. When Matt pulls the cigar from Emma's arm, her eyes roll back and she falls to the floor, aching. Taking deep breaths, she tries to fight the excruciating sensation. Squirming on the carpet, she attempts to disembody herself from the burning as she breathes in the stench of her scorched flesh.

  Re-lighting the stogie, Matt exhales, "These are the lessons that hurt, but they're the lessons that teach the most…

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  learn from your hurt. Learn to love it and you’ll yearn to hold it in your arms."

  Matt slugs from his glass of whiskey and then peers around the kitchen counter at Emma. Taking another drag from his cigarette, he shakes his head at her, "To be with me, you have to be stronger than this Emma… this world can be ours but you have to want it."

  Weeping, she whispers, "I do want it, baby…" Matt says nothing in response to her. He simply blows a kiss of smoke in her direction. Closing her eyes, she tries to embrace that hurt that Matt has bestowed upon her.

  After dropping Donnie off at his apartment, Parker and Kelly make their way back to his house. The two share small talk about their likes as the stars shine bright above them.

  Escaping into the night, they are finally alone to share a peaceful moment. Kelly wares her nerves on the inside and her buzz allows her to play it cool. Parker wants to show her how deep he really is, but he is afraid how it will appear to Kelly. Her rough exterior always leaves him suspended in wondering if she really wants anyone in her life. This angle of hard candy that she plays is her defense to keep heart intact. It keeps men like the ones who hurt her mother and sister at bay, while unfortunately, fending off nice guys like Parker.

  For Kelly's sake, Parker is not easily strayed. There is something he sees in her, something most guys cannot—a soft side.

  Parking in his driveway, Parker steps out of the car and says, "Looks like my roommates are out again."

  Kelly closes the car door behind her and retorts with a raise of her eyebrows, "Does this mean we're alone?"

  Parker grins while trying to conceal the blush in his cheeks, "Well, yeah? Unless there is some deranged killer waiting for us inside?"

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  Walking up the driveway to the front door, Parker tries to play off his goofiness. All the while, Kelly follows behind him, finding his reactions to be, as she calls it "adorable".

  Entering the house, Parker walks into the kitchen, "You want something to drink?"

  "Sure, gimmie something fruity and something boozy."

  Giving a nod, Parker says, "You got it…"

  Taking a seat at one of the three bar stools lined along the counter on outside of the kitchen, she lights a cigarette.

  Catching herself, "Oh shit! I'm sorry can I smoke in here?"

  "Yeah, all of my room-mates smoke. My parents used to smoke when I was growin' up, so the smell really doesn't bother me."

  "Non-smokers constantly bitch about that shit. They're sittin' a grease pit eating shit that will kill you faster than anything else, and their bitchin' about a little smoke?"

  Parker shrugs, "No one complained until the government told them too."

  "Yeah, now those same people weigh like four-hundred pounds and ride around on those scooters because they can't pick out their nasty shit in the grocery store on foot."

  Laughing, Parker reaches into the refrigerator and grabs a beer. Twisting off the cap, he replies, "Yeah, you're right. In all honesty, the crap that's being dumped into our water and our air is worse than someone's little cigarette."

  Pausing to take a swig, he continues, "I just don't know how you smokers can afford it… almost six bucks a pack?

  Jesus, when my parents smoked it was a buck a pack!"

  Kelly shrugs, "I smoke the cheapies…"

  "Sure, but those are still like four bucks a pack, right?"

  "Yeah, they’re about that."

  Pulling out a cup from the cupboard, Parker fills it with ice from the feature on his refrigerator's door. "Joe, one of my room-mates, he rolls his own… he gets a pound of really good tobacco for like twenty bucks and box of filters and makes them up with a little slider."

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  "Really?"

  Filling the cup with some rum, he adds some fruit punch over it and answers, "Yeah… you should look into it… might save yourself some dough."

  With a nod, Kelly says, "I'll do that…"

  Giving the mixture a quick stir with a plastic straw, Parker hands the drink to Kelly. "Here you go, Madam…

  your drink."

  Kelly smiles, "Why, thank you sir."

  She takes a big sip and gives a thumb up. Parker chuckles before taking a sip from his beer and comments,

  "You love that liquor, don't ya?"

  Prying her lips from the straw, she answers, "It helps…"

  "It helps what?!" Parker asks with a laugh that emphasizes his question.

  Reserving her answer, Kelly thinks about her mother and all of the stress that she places on her. Her thoughts harp on her sister, and how much of her load she carries because she is viewed as the baby. She ponders on the sudden moves her family has made as well as Ophelia being a heroin addicted prostitute. Working a dead end job while she pines for some kind of education to lift the weight from her mother, she keeps it all inside.

  Not wanting to unload her problems on Parker, she simply sighs, "I'm kidding… I just like to drink."

  "Nothin' wrong with that… I like to drink, but I can't keep up with you."

  With a simple shrug, Kelly quips, "Few can…"

  Feeling lesser in masculinity, Parker asks, "Wanna do a shot?"

  Swallowing a sip from her drink, Kelly asks, "Of what?"

  "Well, I got this whiskey…"

  Reaching into his bottom cabinet, he pulls out a glass bottle with no label that contains a clear liquid. Placing it on the counter in front of Kelly, he says, "It's supposed to be moonshine, but I never tried it…"

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  Taking a gulp from her cup, Kelly says, "Fuck it, I'm game…"

  Parker takes two shot glasses from the cupboard and starts pouring. He fills the glasses with potent fluid to the penned lines below their tops. Smelling the fumes, Parker gasps, "Jesus… this shit is like racing fuel!"

  Passing the shot to Kelly, she takes a whiff and scrunches her nose, "Damn! Where did you get this shit from?!"

  "My uncle… he lives out in the swamps of Louisiana, out where the buses don't run, ya know? His friend makes this stuff in a bath tub inside of his house."

  Shaking her head from the scent, Kelly raises her shot glass as Parker raises his. Tapping the tips of one another's glasses, they down the potent liquid. Slamming down the ounces, they react with the same look of disgust to the burning taste. Kelly slams the small glass down on the counter and quickly gulps down the fruity concoction to mask the flavor of the shot. Parker gulps down his beer to chase the stagnant taste from his tongue.

  Lighting a cigarette, Kelly says, "Fuck, that burned!

  What the hell did he make that with, gasoline?"

  Coughing, Parker exclaims, "I don't fuckin' know… I'm not drinkin' that shit again!"

  Sliding off her stool, Kelly walks over to Parker as he drinks his beer. She looks into his eyes as he pulls the bottle from his lips. Taken back, he asks, "What? What are you looking at?"

  Taking him off guard, she kisses him. At first, Parker is stunned but he eases into her. Kissing her back, he wraps his arms around her, returning the passion that he has received.

  As she pushes herself in deeper, he pulls her in closer; welcoming he every advance. Gripping her body tightly, his hands caress Kelly's curves as she grinds her body against him. Losing themselves in their actions, the two cannot believe where they are right now. In sexual excitement, they embrace one another. Driving their kisses deeper; their bodies 85

  form a traction that molds them into one lusting energetic being.

  Tearing each other's layers of clothing off, Parker
pushes Kelly towards his bedroom. His shirt fades to the floor as Kelly's top is pulled from over her. Kelly's hands unbutton his blue jeans as Parker kisses her breasts, covered by a tan silk bra. While she edges down his pants, Parker awkwardly unhooks her bra and it drips from her body on to the floor.

  Groping her naked breasts, Kelly gasps with sensual passion as she quivers. Stripping one another bare in the throes of sexual exploration, they conform to their deepest pleasures, ecstasy in its purest human form.

  Kelly massages her body against Parkers, kissing as she becomes lost in the idea of finally having him. As much as Parker has dreamed of having Kelly, Kelly has equally dreamt of having him. The silence of their secret crush is broken with a scream from their connection. Shredding the layers from one another, the two become one, eloping in the heat of passion. They join as one in the name of everything that they had ever yearned for. Taking their time, exploring one another; this is love making in its purest form.

  Lighting a cigarette, Ophelia takes her cell phone and goes down the list of people in her calling circle. Drunk and high, she hits one of the numbers hoping for the best. The phone dials out and the person answers, "Hello?'

  "Hey Mark, it's Ophelia."

  "What's up babe?"

  "I need somethin' and I was wonderin' if ya could get for me?"

  "Oh, yeah… what's that?"

  "A gun…"

  With a scoff, Mark asks, "What do ya need a fucking gun for, is someone bothering you?"

  "Never mind that, can ya get me one?"

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  After a short pause, he answers, "I can get anything…

  what are ya lookin' for?"

  "Somethin' powerful but somethin' I can use, ya know?"

  "Yeah, I got it… look… call me tomorrow and I'll see what I can get ya, okay?