Placebo Page 8

  "Sure…"

  Hanging up the phone, Ophelia takes a drag from her cigarette as she wonders where she went wrong. Within herself she pines for another way out, but she finds no other way. The only thing she can think of is standing her ground and finally fighting back. She starts to adapt to the idea that she does not want to have to move again. Arming herself, she does not have to explain to her older daughters why they have to pack it up. Ophelia tells herself that if she puts Dillon down then the running away will end. With a single bullet she can lay her misery to rest forever.

  The way she sees it, this has been a long time coming in respect to Dillon. All of the times he has hit her and the hurt he has cast upon her; she dreams of the bullets that right her struggles. Though he sees himself as a father to her daughters, she views him as a parasite that will suck them dry. Begging her deity for justice, she hopes that she can get a gun on the cheap. In Ophelia's mind, she knows that she must do something. The more Dillon makes contact with her, the more she fears for safety of her and daughters. After years of running, this is what it has come to—backed into a corner to face the darkness head on.

  Thinking about holding that gun in the palm of her hand, Ophelia knows that she has to do what she can to keep him away. She thinks about the fleeting moments that will echo through her victims head, and she feels content in behind the veil of self defense. Questioning her fortitude, she wonders if she will have what it takes to squeeze the trigger. Exhaling a deep breath, she tells herself that she has to do this. For too long she has let the fear of this man's actions drive every moment in her life. As long as he is walking this planet he 87

  will continue to terrorize her and her daughters. Dillon has driven her to this moment of desperation. He has pushed her over the edge of rationale thought and into the realms of this survivor mentality.

  88

  CHAPTER 11

  The hours push towards the early morning as Matt drops Emma off at home. She gives him a tired peck on the cheek and follows it with a grin that is dimmed from exhaustion.

  Sliding out of his car, she walks up the driveway, wearing one of his jackets to cover the bandages on her arms. Emma knows that her mother and her sister will question her relentlessly over her mysterious wounds. If she was forced to explain it to them, she knows that they would never understand. They would think she was losing it and that Matt was out to hurt her, or maybe worse. Her mother would forbid her to see him again and there would be a huge blowout between the three of them. Since Kelly was out to get Matt anyway, it was better to keep this new and exciting kind of play to herself.

  89

  Walking through the door, she gives a quick look around for signs of her mother and sister. Seeing that the coast is clear, she heads to her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she starts going through her drawers in search of her long sleeve shirts. Finding a big, baggy long sleeve, she strips down to her panties and slips the shirt over her body. Just as she is ready to crawl into bed, there is a knock at her bedroom door. With a sigh, Emma makes her way to the door and opens it to find Ophelia standing in the doorway.

  "Hey, mom… what's up?"

  "Did you have a good night?"

  Emma's eyes wander as she stutters to answer, "Uh…

  um… yeah, sure."

  "So, are you going to tell me who he is?"

  Playing coy, Emma questions, "Who?"

  Giving her daughter a smirk and a raised eyebrow, Ophelia retorts, "The guy you have been seeing for week now… the one who just dropped you off at home at three in the morning?"

  Emma grins, "He's a guy I met at the Italian Garden…

  he's sweet and he's gorgeous."

  "Oh yeah, and does this magic man have a name?"

  "His name is Matt…"

  "… and what does this Matt do?"

  "Oh, um…" Stalling for to find a lie; she runs her fingers through her hair nervously and answers, "He uh, works in construction."

  Watching her daughter's fidgety movements and folded arms, Ophelia's intuition tells her that Emma is hiding something from her. She knows that Emma is not going to open up to her so quickly. Given the track record of men that Emma has taken into her life, she is always playing defense to her mother and sister. Her daughter is no longer a child and she cannot stop her from seeing someone she deems as "bad".

  Emma has her know-it-all attitude and she is going to do what she wants regardless of what anyone else tells her. All that 90

  Ophelia can hope for is that her little girl has learned from past mistakes.

  "Just take it slow, baby… alright?"

  "I am, mom… don't worry."

  Reluctantly giving up the questioning for the time being, Ophelia wishes Emma sweet dreams and retires to her room.

  Emma crawls into bed and stares at the wrapped marks that Matt had given her earlier. Now that the glow has faded she is left to wonder if this is what she has to look forward too. She asks herself if this what she really wants in a relationship. Her fears start to surface, questioning if she can handle this afflictive form of affection. Cradling herself within her comforter, she harps on Matt burning her with his cigarette.

  Pondering, she asks, "Did he do it to hurt me or too teach me something?" The doubts of whether or not she can keep up with his hazardous lifestyle takes over to the point of her clinching her pillow for comfort.

  Wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, she brushes his odd infatuations off as simply "kinky". She finds herself strangely drawn to his mysterious vibe that he exudes. Even though she is plagued with questions about him, her attraction is drawn by his confidence and his style of intelligence. Matt is everything that she has read and had come to dream for.

  Her wishes to fall for a strong, shadowy figure whose motives are clouded by his actions. This is the darker side of romance that Emma has always been fascinated with. Never before did she think that this type of adventure could be real and now that she has it, she second guesses her strength to dabble in it with Matt.

  What Emma does not fully understand is that Matt finds release in physically hurting himself and others. He hates humanity and everything that the functioning world stands for. In his thoughts, he pines for some kind of Armageddon—

  a global havoc that would send people in mass to their graves.

  His dreams are filled with destruction and chaos while he stalks the planet, smiling at any amount of destruction that 91

  takes place. For him, this is life is a tortured existence where he suffers day in and day out. He has no friends and can never hold on to anyone that grows to care for him. Genuine concern is a form of sympathy, a weakness that he cannot afford to have. Given his nature, Matt is a text book example of sociopath.

  Slipping into her slumber, Emma tells herself that she can be the driving force to change him. With so many questions lingering about him, she rests by convincing her conscious that she will know everything about him in due time. Ignoring the ample warnings, she finds solace in the throes of self-delusion. She can be the one of several to make a difference in his life and chip away his defensive shell. Her love will somehow break through his poisoned mold and make him feel accepted, prying him open like an oyster.

  Cradled in her ignorance, she closes her eyes with ease and drifts away.

  As morning breaks through the clouds, Kelly rolls away from Parkers arms and starts getting dressed. She tries to move softly to not wake him but to no avail. Cracking his lids open, he asks, "Where are you running off too?"

  Snapping her bra, "I gotta go…"

  "I was hoping to get breakfast…"

  Pulling her shirt over her messy hair, she replies, "I can't…not today."

  Parker questions her sudden brush off, "Why? Gotta work? Gotta another hot date?"

  Turning to him with a heavy sigh, Kelly says, "Look, I like you, but I can't handle a relationship right now."

  "Whoa, hey, I asked you to breakfast, not a quick trip to a Vegas altar."

  "I k
now… I mean, I just don't wanna get all caught up, ya know? One minute it's breakfast and then its lunch, and, boom! Then were havin' dinner..."

  92

  Laying his head back on to his pillow, Parker sighs,

  "Okay, call me whenever then, I guess?"

  Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Kelly quickly slides her shoes on. "I'll call you, really… I promise."

  Rolling his eyes, Parker answers Kelly in a sarcastic tone, "Alright then… talk to ya then."

  Standing up, Kelly exclaims, "Don't be that way. Don't act like I owe you because you fucked me!"

  Sitting up, Parker quickly replies, "Hey, I didn't twist your arm… so quit tryin' to pawn your bullshit psycho fears on me."

  Hitting a nerve, Kelly grunts back in an angered tone,

  "You don't know who the hell I am! I'm almost a fuckin'

  stranger to you!"

  "A stranger? Oh please… it's obvious to anyone who meets you for ten seconds that you keep a guard up against anyone who tries to really get to know who you are as a person."

  Failing to find the right words in her defense, Kelly grabs her purse and makes her way to the door. Parker watches her, thinking that he should have reserved himself more. Before reaching for the handle, Kelly turns around and says, "I like you Parker, but I really don't need this shit in my life right now.”

  Before he can respond, Kelly twists the door knob and walks out, slamming the door closed to any reaction from him. Leaving the house, Kelly is hit with the first rays of light, adding to further regret to her hangover. Squinting her eyes, she pulls her sunglasses out of her purse and starts walking the twelve long blocks to her car that is parked back at the bowling alley. The harsh morning sun beats down upon her as she chokes on her fowl tasting morning breath.

  Yearning for coffee, she thinks about what transpired mere moments ago. She does not shift the blame to herself, but she moves it solely to Parker. Her way of seeing it is; who is he to make her into something that she cannot be? After all she has 93

  witnessed from her sister and her mother in the respect of relationships, why should she compromise like they have so many times?

  Kelly's angered thoughts carry her through the blocks that she walks, wanting to strangle Parker for calling her out.

  She does not know why his words struck such a chord within her to spawn such a reaction. Telling herself that he is off base, she marches the winding sidewalks to get to her abandoned vehicle. Her thoughts scream "he doesn't know shit!" as she stops to light a cigarette. Exhaling her rage with her first taste of nicotine of the day, Kelly shakes her head at the situation that she just left behind. Walking faster while taking deep drags, she tells herself that Parker is wrong about her. Dismissing his crass diagnosis, she uses the simple reasoning that he does not know a single thing about her. If he did know her, he would not have been pressuring her in the way he did.

  Turning the corner, Kelly wipes away the beads of sweat that are forming on her forehead. While her pores expel their toxins, she finds herself battling her own thoughts. Debating whether or not she should throw caution to the wind and give Parker an honest chance. She knows he is a good man with a steady job and a place to call his own. Donnie is forever bragging about how great of a guy Parker is and how he is one of the nicest people that he has ever known. Kelly knows this, and this is why she likes him so much. Part of her fear is finding out that the person in question is not the catch she thought he would be. This element of perfection is something that she ties others too; however she does not see her own flaws.

  Sweaty and thirsty, her head pounds as her feet throb beneath her aching knees. Flicking her finished butt, she says aloud, "Fuck, I'm never doing this again!"

  She sees the bowling alley from where she is and gets the sudden desire to run the rest of the way. Hit with the image of her running for no ungodly reason, she takes a deep breath 94

  and picks up her steps. In the midst of thinking about going home, taking a bath and going to bed she realizes that she has to be work in a few hours. The thought of having to go in her state makes her want to quit. Ever the trooper, she tells herself that her wounds are self inflicted and continues her journey towards her car.

  The clock strikes eleven in the sleepy beachside town as Donnie finishes prepping the pizzeria for opening. Whenever he is scheduled, Donnie opens the restaurant alone. Lots-O-Crust is a small scale pizza place with one location and one owner. They only serve pizza, garlic bread sticks, and chicken wings. Given the small space and the fact that they do not deliver, the business is solely based on carry-out orders.

  Donnie's job is to be there at 10 'O clock so he can start three different types of their pizzas for their11 'O clock opening time.

  Kelly is supposed to be at work at eleven; however she is running behind by fifteen minutes. Donnie watches the clock as his fresh pizzas cool. As a boss, he pretends to be angered that she is not on time, but the jealousy that he harbors tells a different story. In his mind, all he can do is guess what she and Parker did the night before. His attempts to call her cell phone fall short; it rings once and then goes straight to voice mail. Trying to call Parker, he just gets his voicemail, driving his rage even further. Graphically visioning them in the heat of sexual passion, Donnie paces behind the counter as if he wants to punch something.

  Suddenly Kelly pushes through the door, without looking at Donnie she says, "I know, I'm late… I'm sorry. My cell died and I couldn't call."

  Looking at her as she rushes by, he says nothing in response. Donnie takes a breath to calm his nerves and sits down upon his stool. As Kelly goes down her list of excuses, he tunes her out and thinks about what the girl of his dreams and his best friend did the prior evening. He convinces 95

  himself that she is late because she was in the throes of Parker's lusting grasp. Shaking his head at his thoughts, he asks with a heavy tone of sarcasm, "So, how was your night?"

  "It was alright… how was yours?"

  Shaking his head in shame, Donnie simply responds,

  "Fine…"

  Sensing the hostility in his voice, Kelly comes around the corner and asks, "What's the matter?"

  Looking towards the floor, he responds, "Nothin'…"

  Kelly does not register that Donnie is upset that she went home with Parker. In her mind, Donnie is completely off of her radar. She views him as a friend and nothing beyond that.

  As nice as he is, he does not challenge her in the ways that Parker does. The ways he carries himself also turns Kelly off, she is into a man who cares about his appearance, not one who is an outgoing slob. While she likes Donnie's personality and enjoys his company, she would never find herself in his bed. Unfortunately for Donnie, this leaves him in the position of consistently finding himself in the friend's box.

  Trying to be subtle in getting answers, Donnie asks, "So, do you like him?"

  "Parker? Yeah… he's alright."

  "Like a good friend… or what?"

  Kelly gives Donnie an odd look, "Yeah… why do you ask?"

  Playing it cool, Donnie shrugs, "No reason… I'm just curious."

  Picking up on where Donnie is going with his questioning, Kelly sighs, "I really don't want to date anyone right now. Sure, sex is cool sometimes, but I just can't commit anything to anyone. Hell, I can't even commit to myself!"

  He nods, holding back from asking the question that he already knows the answer to in, Donne stands up and says,

  "Look, I gotta go to the back for a few… watch the phones."

  Walking to the back, he steps into the walk in refrigerator and closes the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he 96

  pulls out his one hitter and taps the tip with a spark from his lighter. Inhaling the herbal smoke, he closes his eyes as he slowly exhales. The creeping high fills him with warmth while he tells himself that everything is going to be fine. This is a temporary fix that helps in easing the anger he feels towards Parker. Hitting the pipe again, he momentarily is filled w
ith confidence that he will one day meet the person who is perfect for him. As the negativity is forced out, his head surges with positive thinking. Tapping the ashes out into the corner, Donnie sprays some cologne to cover the scent and walks back to the front with a smile on his face.

  97

  CHAPTER 12

  The clock strikes high noon as Ophelia's phone starts to ring. Looking at the caller ID screen, the call is coming from a blocked number. Her heart races as she prepares herself for Dillon harassment. She answers the call with a sound of uncertainty in her voice, "Hello?"

  "Ophelia, it's Mark…"

  She sighs with relief, "Oh, hi Mark…"

  "I gotta guy I'm meetin' a little later, if you come with me you can get somethin' from him."

  "Sure, just call me before you leave."

  "Alright, I'll see ya later."

  Ophelia hangs up the phone and tosses it on her bed. She lights a cigarette as she continues to question if she is doing the right thing. Sleeping on and off the night before, she spent most of her time pacing around the house. Her exhaustion is held back by the fear that courses through her. Unable to relax, she spent most of her night chain smoking and 98

  drinking. Desperate to salvage her piece of mind; she hoped that these vices could somehow snub her nervous energy.

  Now she finds herself in the afternoon of the next day with a headache and her body ravaged from stress. Hurting for her drug of choice, she is debating what she needs more.

  As much as she wants to shoot up, she tells herself to wait. Between meeting the arms dealer and her lack of cash she puts herself in the corner of making a choice. With the little heroin that she has left and lack of money for her firearm, she wants to save her high for a better time. Having only a certain amount of money to spend, it boils down to her either continuing to get her fix or buying a gun. She knows that she must defend herself and her family so she fights to decide. Walking around her room, she smokes her cigarette as she fights her bodily urges.

  Once a drug like heroin takes control of you, it becomes physical—a hunger, much like your need for food. When the hurting begins, it pales in compassion to anything else. After this drug as adapted to your body's chemistry you are willing to sacrifice anything for the smallest taste. You tell yourself that all you need is a little but a little becomes more. Before you know it, the addiction becomes the most important thing in your life and everything else dwarfs into trivialities. Food, water; these things have no room for concern when you are yearning for your dose. No matter what you do, you are a slave to the drug and obey it's every wish.