Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed

 

 

“You mind your brother, Braxton.” Mama kisses my baby brother on his cheek before putting him in his playpen.

“There’s a sandwich for you in the fridge. And some formula for Nixon too.” She crouches down in front of me as she roughs up my hair and smiles. Mama’s got a real pretty smile. She doesn't show it all that often but when she does, it always makes me happy.

She’s wearing that perfume again tonight, the one that always sticks to the back of my throat and makes me choke. Her hair’s curled loose, flowing down her back. And her lips are painted the same color as the neon sign that lights up the club where she works, opposite our apartment.

“Remember, don’t be answering the door to no one. Not even Grammy,” she reminds me. Last time Grammy visited, her and Mama had a fight. She hasn’t been back here since, which is a shame because when Grammy calls, she always brings food.

A loud knock at the door pulls Mama away from me.

“That’ll probably be her now, poking her nose into places it ain’t wanted,” she mutters under her breath, before smiling at me over her shoulder on her way to the door. This time it’s a different kind of smile, more like the one she gives me when we’re counting coins together, or the one she makes when she brings one of her ‘friends’ home from the club. I far prefer her happy smile.

Still, I return a smile back at her before I get back to watching cartoons.

“Oh, it’s you.” Mama sounds nervous as she peeps through the crack of the door and sees who's on the other side of it, I hear Mama yelp in fear when it’s forced open wider.

“Anything you wanna tell me, Jen?” a deep voice growls at her, and I don’t have to move my eyes from the TV screen to know who it belongs to.

It’s a voice that always makes my skin shiver.

“It’s no big deal, baby, he stopped by the club last night but soon as I told him I was working for you now, he left.” Her words come out weak and shaky.

When I look from the corner of my eye, I see one of his huge fists impact with her cheek and I’m immediately up and on my feet. The man may be triple my size, but I ain’t about to sit down and watch him hurt my Mama.

“Sit back down, boy,” he bellows over at me, and Mama quickly steps in my path before I can get to him.

“Go take care of your brother, Braxton.” She places a quivering hand on my shoulder and pulls a brave smile onto her lips. “Please.” Her eyes beg me to do as I’m told, and I stare back at her, trying real hard to understand.

My mama takes shit from no one. I’ve seen her stand up for herself plenty of times with Grammy, and watched her fight back at other men who have disrespected her.

Why does this guy have her so scared?

She quickly turns back around, taking his hand in hers and looking up at him.

“Come with me, baby,” she whispers, her body pressing against his. It makes me so mad that she’s being kind to him, so mad I want to make him hurt.

“Let me prove my loyalty to you. Show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me.” There’s fear in her whisper, and I watch her body sag with relief when he eventually nods his head and lets her guide him toward the bedroom.

Mama turns her head back to me and gives a nod of reassurance. So I swallow back all the rage inside me and do what I always do when she takes a visitor to her bedroom…

I turn up the volume on the TV and do my best to blank out the sounds. I think about last summer, when Mama took me to the fair, Nixon hadn’t arrived back then, but I’ve promised him I’m gonna take him there when he’s big enough.

I don’t know how long Mama and the man have been in the room together, but it gets harder and harder to block out her noises. She sounds like she’s in pain, and it makes me feel sick when her long agonized scream turns into a muffled silence.

I glance at the playpen where Nixon’s sleeping, his fingers tightly gripping the ear of the old blue bunny I gave him.

I’m a big boy now, I don’t need cuddle bunnies anymore.

Big brothers are important. Grammy told me that when Mama brought Nixon home from the hospital. Mama works hard, she’s always so tired, and it’s my job to make sure he’s taken care of so she can rest when she needs to.

Curiosity gets the better of me, so I get up from my chair and slowly creep toward Mama’s room. I know what the rules are, and breaking them will probably earn me a pelt from the nasty man. But I don’t care about him hurting me. I don’t like the sudden silence. I need to check she’s okay.

I turn the corner and collide with his chest, and as I slowly raise my eyes up to his, I notice how he’s peering down at me. His pupils cold and empty, a thick vein pulsing in his temple.

“Outta my way, boy,” he growls.

“Where’s my mama?” I hate how scared I sound. I’m supposed to be looking out for Mama. I promised Pa I would the day he left us.

I find the strength to stare right back up at the man who towers over me, denying him my fear. And even when his huge hand wraps around my throat and starts to crush the breath out of me, I somehow manage to hold in a reaction.

“I won’t tell you again,” he hisses the warning through his teeth, and I snuffle back angry tears. Men like this one feed on the weak, I ain’t giving him what he needs.

“You never saw me, boy,” he snarls at me. “And if you tell anyone I was here, I’ll make you dead too.” He releases me from his grasp and I fall into a heap on the ground.

I’m too distracted by what he just said to worry about catching my breath and the whole apartment shakes when he slams the front door behind him. I touch my hand over my throat, already feeling the bruises from his fingers.

Something ain’t right, a twist in my guts tells me so. And that gut feeling is confirmed when my fingertips become sticky. I hold out my hand in front of me and see the red, tacky marks staining them.

I’m not cut, the blood isn’t mine. It was his fingers that left the mark.

My heart thumps, slamming so hard in my chest it feels like it’s gonna break out, and I manage to scramble up onto my feet and rush toward Mama’s bedroom door.

Mama is lying still, too still. I could tell myself she was sleeping, if it wasn’t for the blood seeping out from under her, slowly staining her white pillow red.

“Mama?” I swallow the wedge in my throat and step closer, reaching out a trembling hand to take hold of hers. She’s still warm, and I take it as a good sign, dead people are always cold.

My shaking and the blood on my fingers cause me to lose grip, and when her hand slips out of mine… falling limp over the edge of the mattress, I choke on air.

Mama’s eyes are wide open, staring right back at me, but she isn’t inside them anymore. I pray for her slightly parted lips to stretch into that smile. The one that’ll tell me everything's gonna be okay. But they remain still, with the bright pink color she wore on them smeared onto her pale cheeks.

“Mama,” I whisper her name again, shaking at her shoulders with all my strength. She needs to get up. Nixon needs her, I can’t take care of him all by myself.

“Mama,” I call out a little louder, my vision blurring through tears that I can’t hold in anymore.

She’s gone.

Mama’s gone…

Dark red blood seeps from an open gash across her throat, glossing the skin on the rest of her body, and then on to mine when I lift her head under my arm and cradle her tight to my chest.

I memorize his face as I rock her back and forth, trying desperately to remember his name. I can’t remember Mama ever calling him by it, but I know Grammy hated Mama working for him. I close my eyes and imagine her tightly drawn lips saying his name out loud when they had their last argument.

Toby…

Thomas…

Tobias.

Tobias Saunders.

He did this, he took Mama from me and my brother. And as I sit and hold her, with the cold stealing her body, I promise myself that one day I’ll wear that man’s blood on my hands.