Page 43 of Run
I look up to see him taking a piss all over me. He turns and slowly walks along the length of the couch, making sure to mark his territory there, too. Then he finishes by leaving a huge wet spot on the carpet.
After he tucks himself back into his pants and makes a show of zipping and buttoning them, he fastens his buckle and, adjusting his junk, stops whistling and goes to walk past me. He stops right next to my face, then turns to hover over me as I cower on the floor, drenched in his piss.
“Until next time, Arlene,” he says, blowing me a kiss and slowly making his way out the door. I jump up, run and throw myself at it, quickly locking all three locks, then turn around and slide all the way to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest.
I don’t cry. But I do shake. I shake with fear, rage and shame, knowing I can’t get away from him. I can’t have anything of my own. I’m not safe anywhere.
CHAPTER 14
ETHAN
My ears thud each time a foot hits the pavement as I run along the sidewalk in Columbus. It’s the nearest city to Fort Moore and it’s where all the Army guys—and gals—go to hang out when they have a night off. Since it’s Christmas week, I have extra time off and am staying at a friend’s apartment for most of it.
I’ve never gotten used to winter in the south. It’s in the lower fifties today, which is pretty cold for Georgia. Still, I only need my Army sweats and hoodie to keep warm.
There are things I miss about my home state, such as snow, especially at Christmastime. It’s odd to not hear the crunch of it under my shoes, or feel it on my skin, for a couple of years now. Mom misses me, and of course I miss her. But it’s not enough tobring me back to the place I grew up. However, needing to figure out what I’m going to do when discharged next year burdens me. I thought about hanging around here, getting a place in Columbus so I can still see some of the guys who have become brothers, but that seems silly since they don’t really have much time to hang out anyway.
I’ve looked into other places outside Rochester so I could move back to that region without actually being in that city, even looking up graphic design jobs online.
The light changes from the hand to the little stick figure and the crowd I’m standing in starts crossing the street. Once across, I climb the stairs to my buddy’s apartment.
After showering, I spend the afternoon lying on the couch, my head is against one armrest and my feet propped up on the other while a half-empty sleeve of cookies sits on my chest. A rerun ofSwamp Peopleplays on the TV as I scroll through social media on my phone.
A couple of guys on base teased me for not having any “socials,” as they called it, and nudged me to make a page, which I did. I rarely ever post anything on it. Really, I just use it to see what other people are up to, as well as some B-list celebs and, of course, all my favorite country singers.
Scrolling aimlessly, something catches my eye and I have to back up. It’s Fonz. Shit, I’ve missed that guy. We’re still close, we just don’t talk as much as we used to. Something about time and distance does that.
In this picture, he’s got his arm around an Asian guy, and they are both holding up beers and smiling. The caption reads “@johnny_la is my favorite Asian bro!”
I grin. It’s good to see him happy. My finger hovers over the screen for just a moment before clicking on Fonz’s name and being directed to his profile. There are a couple of photos of Fonzwith his siblings. Another of him with that Johnny guy. One with a group of women all wearing sashes that say “Bridesmaid.”
And then I stop scrolling when I see one withher. Again, she looks just like I remember, but … not. More mature, and yet, still a little sad—even though she’s smiling.
And she’s beautiful. But I always knew she would grow into a beautiful young woman. God, she must be nineteen. No, twenty.
The caption reads “With @red_runner.”
Shortly after Fonz visited me and Jules three years ago and I saw that photo of Ari, I told him not to tell me anything more about her. I don’t want to hear what she’s doing. I don’t want to know where she’s living, where she works, who she’s hanging out with. It’s better to just let that all be water under the bridge.
But of course, I’ve wondered. I’ve wondered if it got worse with Axel. If he tried to kill her again. If she has anyone to protect her. If she has any friends, or a boyfriend.
I blink a few times, then click on her name and try to view her profile, but it’s set to private so I can’t. No way am I going to friend request her, so instead I keep scrolling down Fonz’s profile until there’s another photo of them, this time with a heavy-set, raven-haired girl with glasses and …No way!
I sit up, sending the half-eaten sleeve of cookies to the ground, and pull my legs around so I’m sitting on the couch, elbows on my knees, staring at my phone. I pinch the screen and pull my fingers apart to zoom in on the photo, then squint my eyes which I pray are deceiving me.
But they are most definitely not. That’s definitely SeanMcAssFacefrom high school with his arm around Ari, and his hand is definitely resting over her boob. He’s got a cocky-as-all-shit grin on his sleezy face and he’s giving the peace sign with his other hand. What …WHATis he doing hanging out with Ari and Fonz? And what the actual hell is he doing with his arm around her?
I check the date and see it was from about a month ago. Scrolling further down, there aren’t any more photos of Ari. At least not any that were posted recently.
I scroll back up and click on Sean’s name, @SeanJohn4Reals—God he is such an epic dick—and, since he’s about as stupid as a bag of assholes, his profile is public and I can see all of his posts.
And down the rabbit hole I go.
There are a bunch of selfies with him giving the peace sign, or some other gestures that for all I know are gang signs. There’s some with him smoking a blunt or holding up a drink in “cheers.” All of these are littered with pics of him with chicks, either under his arm, sitting on his lap, or with their faces pressed against each other. And each has a stupid caption.
“@blonde_below_the_waist is my homegirl.”
“Just smoking and chilling wit ma gurl @shelly_from_helly.”
