On my way to the stairway, I crack a door open and peek in on my younger brother, Jax. His bedroom light is off, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s fake sleeping. At twelve years old, Jax has been exposed to the harsh reality of our home life at way too young of an age, just like I was—still am. And just like me, he tries his best to pretend that he’s anywhere but here.
“Jax, are you okay?” I whisper through the crack.
A moment goes by before he responds. “If they’re passed out,” he mutters sleepily, “could you turn the music off? It’s too loud to sleep through.”
I hate that he knows what I know about my mother. Hate that he has to go through this. Hate that I do too. But one day I will get us out of here—I promised him that and I vow to keep that promise. Besides, I have plans; graduating high school, going to college, getting a career either in astronomy or something else I enjoy. I will create a life where I can pay my bills and live in a nice home, in a good environment. I won’t turn out like my mother.
“Okay,” I tell Jax. “I’ll see what I can do, but if it’s too bad you can always use your earplugs.”
“I hate them… They hurt my ears.”
“Sorry, Jax. I really am.” It’s all I can think of to say to him. “I’ll try my best to get the music turned off.”
He doesn’t say anything else so I close his door before starting down the stairs. I kick some empty beer bottles out of the way as I head down. At the bottom stair, I pick up an ashtray before veering left into the kitchen. I set the ashtray down on the counter that’s overflowing with trash then suck in a deep breath and turn around to enter the living room.
Music slams against my chest the second I endeavor over the threshold. The sound is so deafening that my eardrums feel like they’re bleeding. And the smell… The smell is the worst, like people who haven’t showered for days crammed into a room bursting with the foul stench of cigarette smoke mixed with gallons of alcohol.
The sight… God, the sight is nearly indescribable. There are six of them today, some half-dressed, some fully dressed, but all of them look like corpses. Even my dreamer side can’t make anything out of reality other than what it is. I have to force myself to walk around and check that they’re all still breathing and haven’t died. Once I’m satisfied that their chests are moving, I pad over to the stereo in the corner of the room on the floor, making sure not to step on any syringes on my way there.
I unplug the speakers and the music clicks off. Then I collect the stereo, relief washing over me when no one wakes up. Holding my breath, I sprint back across the living room and bolt out the front door into the fresh night air, the screen door banging shut behind me. I rush to the sidewalk and toward Zack’s house, but halfway there, my foot catches on the cord. With no shoes on, I end up stubbing my toe.
“Dammit,” I curse as warm blood oozes from the scrape. I start to set the stereo down so I can inspect the damage.
“Need help with that?”
My head whips up at the sound of a deep male voice. A tall, sturdy looking guy is watching me from the end of my driveway, beside the fence and beneath the stars.
“No, I’m good,” I tell him, gathering the stereo in my arms and backing away toward my house.
“You’re taking that to Zack’s, right?” Enough light floats over from Zack’s house that I can tell the unfamiliar guy is staring at me.
“I was going to…” My gaze dances back and forth between the guy and my home as I debate whether to duck back inside or not.
“I could carry it for you.” He moves toward me and I counter his movement with a step backward. He halts then elevates his hands in front of him. “I promise I don’t bite.”
I hesitate, torn between being polite and being overly safe. “It’s not that I think you bite…” I cast a glance at the rundown houses surrounding us. Some are boarded up, while others are starting to crack and fall apart, like mine. “It’s just that it’s late and this neighborhood is … Well, this neighborhood, and I don’t know you. For all I know, you could be a creepy pervert.”
He chuckles. “Well, I’m not. My name’s Conner and I’m an acquaintance of Zack’s and not from this neighborhood.” I can tell he’s smiling even though I can’t actually see his mouth. “See, now you know me.” When he starts to head toward me again, I shuffle back, still skittish and untrusting.
“Well, Conner, it’s been a pleasure, but I need to go.” I spin for the stairs to my house. “Tell Zack if he wants the stereo he can come over and get it.”
“Avery, what the hell is taking you so long?” Zack asks from seemingly out of nowhere. “I just got a beer bottle thrown at me because of your slow ass.”
I reel back around. Zack is standing in the middle of the lawn and a few feet in front of the Conner guy, who’s now chatting with some other person from the party.
“I was hurrying as fast as I can,” I lie to Zack. “Sorry.”
“Why? I sent Conner out here to help you.” Zack frowns as he steps into the porch light.
I sigh, feeling silly. “Yeah, sorry, but I didn’t know who he was.”
“Always so cautious,” Zack says with a lazy grin. “You need to loosen up more, Avery.”
I note his glazed eyes, his blonde hair sticking up straight, and that goofy lopsided grin he always has whenever he’s been toking up. “You’re stoned.” I hate that he does it, hate drugs and alcohol. Never do them myself, but I’ve also seen the ugliest side of substance abuse.
Zack shrugs, softly laughing. “Just a little bit. Sorry.”
“You suck.” I shift to the bottom of the stairs, quickly glancing over at Conner, who is looking at me again. “Here. It’s all yours. I’m going to bed.” I hand Zack the stereo then turn back to go inside, even though part of me doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to have to go back into the smell and the rotting.
“Wait,” Zack calls out. “The speakers.”
“Don’t you have your own?” I ask, gripping onto the railing.
“No, the whole thing got trashed during a fight just barely… damn drunk assholes landed on it.”
I sigh for the millionth time tonight and look back at him. “I’m way too nice to you, Zachery.”
He rolls his eyes at my usage of his full name, but then he gives me a goofy stoner grin. “That’s because you secretly like me, Avery.”