(added hyphens in between paragraphs cause the website's formatting is a bit finicky.)
The first time they’d met was at the gas station
where he worked. It was late at night. She’d had mephedrone and weed. Lots of
it.
There was a scratching sound coming from the back,
near the dumpsters, and a low groaning. Matias came out the back door and saw
her. She took a little longer to see him. When she did, her face went through
several emotions in succession, like a television skipping channels, before she
settled on a curious half-smile.
“Hi there,” she’d said. “You look pretty. Nice
shirt.”
He’d squatted down and asked her name.
Her expression instantly went guarded, and she
rudely told him to fuck off.
Over the course of fifteen minutes, he coaxed her
home address out of her and drove her back to her parents.
That was months ago.
-
The second time was at the gas station again. It
had been three weeks, and Matias had almost forgotten her gaunt face, her
skinny fingers and odd twitches. Almost.
She was on heroin, ecstasy, and weed.
Her face popped out without warning, in the window
next to the counter. He shouted out in surprise and almost fell over. She slipped
out of sight and all Matias heard while he recovered himself was mad, gleeful
cackling.
Her clothes were dirtier than before. Her hair was
less neat, her eyes more wild.
He’d left the counter and marched outside,
questions ready to storm out of his mouth. She answered with a wide grin on her
face, oddly polite. Called him ‘mister’. He told her his name. Matias Caraballo.
All she gave was ‘Bell’.
Giving hurried apologies to his boss, Matias got
Bell in his car and once again returned her home.
-
The third time was outside his apartment, two
months later.
It was heroin and cocaine.
Somehow, she’d tracked him down, and he heard her
shrieking curses at him at three in the morning, wearing nothing but a bra and
shorts.
She blamed him for her problems. She refused stop
yelling unless he let her in his house. When he said no, she started screaming at
the top of her lungs, loud enough to wake up the entire neighbourhood, which
didn’t really give him a choice.
He stopped her, dragged her in and asked her why
she was there.
She said she’d been kicked out of home.
He took her to the West Palm Beach Rehabilitation
Center.
That was a month ago.
Since then, she’d returned to his place two more
times. He’d dragged her back to rehab two more times. And now she was here again.
Except this time, she was sober, mostly.
-
Her head was bowed, eyes stuck on the welcome mat,
lip trembling. “Sorry,” she said, and Matias bit back the angry words he had waiting
on his tongue. He switched them for calmer ones.
“Why do you keep coming back here?” he said.
“I-I’m sorry for making you drive me back to my
home, and then to the rehab, and then yelling at you when-”
“Bell.”
She looked up. “Huh?”
“Why are you here again?”
Her mouth opened and closed a couple times. “Let me
live with you. Please.”
There was a pause. Matias blinked at her, and her
words came out in a rush, scrambling to explain themselves. “I-I don’t any
money, I dropped outta high school, I fucked up with drugs, I know – I got nowhere
else to go, all I need is a few days so I can get my shit together – I won’t be
any trouble, I mean it – please, I’m sorry…” She trailed off as she ran out of
things to say, staring up at him. Matias stared back at her, mouth hanging
slightly ajar. Won’t be any trouble.
Yeah, he didn’t believe that for a second.
“Why me?” he asked. “What makes you think I’ll say
yes?”
“Y-you’re the only person I know,” she said. “And…
you’re nice.”
“Huh?”
“I was at the homeless shelter for a bit. I saw
you helping people there. I didn’t approach you because… you know.”
Matias kept staring at her, taking it all in. Ripped
jeans and a dirty, stained sleeveless shirt. Long, matted dirty blonde hair. Shaking
arms that were hugging her body to keep warm. The smart thing to do would’ve
been to tell her to piss off right then and there, but a small voice in his
head whispered, hey, she’s cute. Matias
quickly kicked that voice in its figurative gut and shoved it down, but the
thought stayed. After standing there for a full ten seconds he sighed at himself,
and, knowing full well that he was going to regret it, opened the door wider
and stepped aside.
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