Page 42 of Run
“And you two”—she waves a hand between me and Fonz—“are still cool? Like you’re not mad he hit your boy toy?”
I laugh. “No, of course not!” I throw my arms around Fonz’s neck, getting on my tippy toes to do so. “I love this big lug.” Not wanting Sophie to feel left out, I reach over and grab the front of her shirt and pull her into our hug. “And I love you, too!”
“Oh God, I can’t!” cries Fonz as he turns his head and tries to breathe. “It’s too goddamn hot for a group hug!”
Sophie and I burst out laughing as we tighten our hold on my oldest friend.
Well, not oldest …
***
I’m almost back to the apartment after working a night at the pub. Since I’m no longer a minor, I’m legally allowed to work behind the bar instead of just waiting tables. The street is illuminated not only by streetlamps, but also by a sketchy bar here or there, or a random bodega. I used to be scared as shit walking home from work in the dark on these streets, but I’velearned to keep my head down, ignore any catcalling that might come from a random drunk, and be ready to run at any minute.
Sophie is having dinner at the Millers’ tonight and probably isn’t back yet. It’s been two weeks since we moved in, and they made it clear they miss her. Well, they missus, actually. They begged me to come, too, but I had to work.
I step off the sidewalk to cross the street one last time and pause as a Mitchell & Sons truck slowly passes by, then make my way to the other side and up the walk to my building, dragging myself up the stairs and around the corner, and freeze.
He’s leaning his back against the wall, one leg bent and a boot resting flat against the brick wall. His head is down but I know exactly who it is. I’ve memorized his size and stature. That silhouette.
Stopping in my tracks, I suck in a gulp of air. I know he knows I’m here. He’s leaving a moment of silence hanging between us just to intimidate me.
Slowly, he raises his head up, raking his eyes up my exposed legs, my jean shorts, my torso and chest, and landing them on my eyes as his lips curl into an evil smile. “What? No greeting for your Papa?”
There’s no use in running since he obviously knows where I live, so I square my shoulders and decide to give him the bravest version of myself.
Digging my keys out of my purse, I pass him and begin unlocking the door he’s leaning beside. First the deadbolt, then the doorknob. He sticks a boot out before I can slam the door in his face, so I just move further into the room, intentionally not discarding my purse. Since I didn’t expect Axel to show up, I didn’t hide any of my tips.
“This place sucks,” he says with a laugh. I just wrap my arms around my middle and stare at the floor. “So, you got nothin’ tosay to me? You just up and leave. No goodbye. No ‘fuck off.’ Just … pack your things and go?”
Exhausted from my day, and life in general, I let out a sigh. “Axel, what do you want?”
“Axel.” He says his name as though it tastes like poison. “When did you stop calling me Papa?”
“Maybe when I got old enough to realize that a real dad would never treat me the way you do.”
I see his jaw click. “How’s that? Keep a roof over your head? Keep you fed? Keep you in line when you act out? That’s not what a real father does?”
I swallow and draw up some courage. “By ‘keep me in line,’ do you mean beat the shit out of me? Break my tooth? Fracture my bones? Try to strangle me?”
“Maybe if you hadn’t been such a brat I wouldn’t have had to be so strict. And if you weren’t such a slut, running around with the pathetic neighbor boy when you were barely a teenager—”
“Go fuck yourself, Axel!” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize it, and I stop my hand from flying up to cover my mouth, trying to hide my shock and fear.
“Careful, girl.” He starts to circle, then takes a step closer, and another, until he’s standing right in front of me. “How can you afford an apartment like this, anyway? You getting better tips these days?” He grabs the purse strap off my shoulder and yanks it down my arm, pulling it away from me and finding my wallet, taking all the cash out. “Not too shabby. You must be getting better at your job. Or are you gettingfriendlierwith the customers?”
He gives me another look from head to foot as he folds the bills and stuffs them in his back pocket, discarding my wallet and purse. “You know, Arlene, you may think you’re a big girl, all grown up now, but you still belong to me. You know that, right?”
It’s all I can do to try and tame the tremors racking through my body, but he can still see me shaking. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Quickly, he grabs my upper arm and pulls me toward him as his other hand swings out and backhands me across the face so hard that, as he lets me go, I stumble to the side and fall into the end table, knocking over a secondhand lamp Sophie purchased and causing it to crash to the ground.
I push up, but before I can stand, Axel kicks my feet out from under me and I go falling to the floor. My hands and knees land on the broken glass and ceramic of the destroyed lamp. With his boot, he pushes my hip so I roll over onto my back, and he presses his foot down on my stomach with just enough force to keep me in place. His hands find his belt buckle and he starts to unfasten it.
Fear crawls up my arms and legs and settles in my spine as I try to crawl away, but he only presses his foot down harder. “Axel, what are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” He pulls the end of the black leather strap through the metal, then—once his belt is unbuckled—he pops open the button of his jeans and unzips his pants.
I struggle against his foot, to no avail. Turning my head so I don’t have to see Axel take himself in his hand, I hear him start whistling.
And wetness spreads on my clothing.
