He worked on my shorts, finally freeing me.
“I’ll be back,” he said jumping up. I sat up, staring down at my bare legs.
“What are you doing?” I asked, growing a little impatient.
“Just grabbing a condom,” he said back.
I trailed my fingers across my stomach, waiting for him to come back.
I barely heard the front door when it slammed against the wall, and an enraged blonde busted into the house, her fist swinging as soon as I saw her.
“Who the hell are you, bitch?” she said, throwing her purse on the ground ready to fight.
I was already in the kitchen hopping into my shorts.
“He obviously has a girlfriend,” I muttered. She rushed the table, flipping it on its side. I backed up, tugging my shirt on, glad to be dressed.
“You’re damn right he has a girlfriend. Ryan where you at? You sorry son of a bitch,” she yelled. “I’m telling my brother and he’s going to beat the piss out of you.”
I felt bad, but at the same time I was angry. Here I was in another situation trying to fight my way out. “You get away from me or I’ll beat the shit out of you,” I warned. I kicked the chair over to show I meant it.
She screamed at me and crashed over the table, her hands immediately finding my hair as she threw me down on the floor. I held onto her arms, fighting to get on my side. The trick was to never end up on the bottom. Being on the bottom meant your face was about to be pummeled. Being on the bottom also meant you were shit out of luck. Aunt Wanda taught me everything I needed to know about fighting.
I pressed my knees into her stomach, gaining control.
“Don’t you touch me!” I spit in her face, swinging my fist, colliding with her pretty little nose.
She rolled over, taking me with her. I couldn’t believe such a petite little blonde had such muscle behind her. I fought against her, my head slamming against the floor.
“Why are you in my house with Ryan? Who the hell are you?” She swung, hitting me in the face, and clawed me with her painted nails.
Ryan finally showed himself. He was dressed. He pulled her off me along with a chunk of my hair. I jumped up and started for the door, but didn’t make it. She jumped on my back like a rabid monkey. I lost my footing and crashed onto the floor.
He told her to let me go, only adding fuel to her fire.
Gun shots sliced through the air and my eardrums rang from the blast. I lifted myself from the ground, looking down at the blonde cowering in fear of Aunt Wanda, who had the gun aimed right at her head. Not a single ounce of Wanda trembled as she locked on her target.
“Stay where you are, bitch,” she growled. She motioned for me to get out of the house. I looked at Ryan one last time, his face white as a ghost. First, he had been caught with another woman, and then a crazy lady barged in his house wielding a pistol.
“Let’s go,” I said from the doorway as I examined my bloody knuckles. I hoped it wasn’t about to turn ugly.
“You should be lucky I don’t blow your pretty little head all over this shit hole,” she screamed, kicking the coffee table.
“I’m sorry!” she said, crouched down on the floor. Ryan stayed where he was.
“Let’s go, please,” I begged.
“Kendall, shut your mouth. This is your mess anyways. You should know better than to try and screw men with houses,” she scolded me.
I sighed as I walked out the door, wishing I had a gun of my own to blow her head off.
Two shots rang out. I headed back over to Jon’s to gather our things. I knew the drill. As I walked through the front door I could smell smoke and stale beer. I stepped over Jon’s body on the floor. I passed the creep who had nearly tried to have his way with me. The bullet hole in his head left a trail down the side of his face.
I wasn’t sure where the other one was, but I knew he was dead.
Finding the suitcase, I opened it up to find a stack of cash and a bag of marijuana.
“I guess that’s what you get for dealing drugs, huh, Jon?” I said, as I passed him to get to the door.
Wanda was in the yard unscrewing the license plate from Jon’s pickup. She jumped to her feet, taking the suitcase from me, her expression serious as she hustled to throw our things in the truck.
I hadn’t even heard the gunshots go off before she busted into Ryan’s house.
“Go in there and see what you can find,” she ordered.
I headed back into Ryan’s house. His dead body was slumped against the kitchen wall, his girlfriend’s between the coffee table and the couch. I clutched my stomach, feeling sick. He didn’t deserve to die.
I rummaged through drawers, ending up with sixty bucks and a bottle of pain pills.
I jogged back out to the truck. Wanda was ready to go. She studied the items, opening up the bottle of pills, and swallowed a few before tossing them beside her on the seat.
“Well, Kendall, here we go. On the road, again,” she said, smirking as we headed down the road.
JUNE 16
TH
IT HAD BEEN more than a week and we were still making our way. We’d barely stopped for more than a bathroom break or a quick bite to eat in days.
My legs were cramped. I found myself fantasizing about beds and how nice it would be to just sprawl out in one and sleep. I hadn’t been getting much sleep lately.
It always haunted me when she killed someone. All I could see in my mind was their blood, their lifeless bodies. I saw a lot of it in all the years I was running around with Wanda, but that never made it easy. I was never going to turn as cold as she was.
I’d tried to come up with an excuse for her, but there was no excuse for Wanda. Why would she do such a thing? She was a cold and calculating person who thought only about herself. I knew that would never change.
After she had killed, there was no going back. We’d always be looking over our shoulders, knowing one day we’d be caught and thrown into prison.
I had never killed anyone. I didn’t have it in me. I just stood in the distance waiting for it to be over. Those moments were surreal, everything moved as if in slow-motion. I couldn’t hear anything and my heart slowed down so much I just knew it would stop beating. My muscles froze up and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die.
Once it was over, I’d try to remove myself from the situation. I’d pretend they weren’t there as I slunk through their homes, taking whatever was of value. Everything I touched made me feel as if I was one fingerprint closer to jail or the electric chair.
I knew Aunt Wanda had taken me down with her a long time ago. The way I saw it, I was an accomplice and it wouldn’t matter at all to the world why I stayed instead of leaving to make a better life for myself. I would be viewed as the girl who aided her psycho aunt on a killing spree across America.
Was this what I wanted out of life?
I wanted a chance to be me. I’d never had a single moment to enjoy any of life’s little pleasures. I was the neglected child turned teenager traveling the road with her crazy aunt. In a twisted way, I reasoned that I got to see things I probably wouldn’t otherwise be able to see. So, I stayed.
I lifted my head from my palm as we neared the big green sign on the expressway. We were close to Rugby, Florida. I could tell Aunt Wanda was ready to call it quits for the day. She pulled her purse from the floor like she always did when we were close to stopping.
I shoved my feet back into my sandals, ready to leap from the truck.
“Now look, we have fifteen hundred dollars. I’m not sure how long it’s going to stretch, so make it last,” she said, elbowing me in the side.