The Bittersweet Life of Amy Clark(EDITING)

Chapter Nine

     He jerked the wheel and the Thunderbird’s body nudged me enough to make me lose balance and fall. I scrambled onto my feet.

     “If you don’t get in, I will run you down,” he said.

     I knew he would. And I could not outrun him. I could not defeat him. I was trapped.

     I reached for the passenger’s door, my fingers trembling and my arm and leg already smarting from the fall. I so did not want to get in, but what other option did I have? I yanked the lever and hopped in. I barely was in my seat when his forearm slammed into my chest. All air drove from my lungs and I doubled over. Tears stung my eyes. I clutched my throbbing ribs as he pulled away from the shoulder of the road. The pain had just begun to subside when I felt the heat of his cigarette against my face and then blinding hot pain flare across my cheek. The sizzle of my own flesh filled my ears as did a long agonizing scream.

     “Now,” he began, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

     I lifted my head. My whole left side of my face felt as though it were on fire and I was afraid of what I might feel if I reached up to scan the damage. I glanced out the window. Trees were becoming plentiful and I knew then where he was taking me. Looks like I was going to Pine Grove Park after all, but the stones thrashing in my stomach told me it wasn’t for the same reason I had in mind.

    He turned onto the gravel road, drover deep into the heart of it where trees were virtually everywhere and the highway was not even a speck. He pulled onto a grassy patch. One large Pine set next ahead, four close to his side and two on my side. It was an enclosed patch and I doubted very much anyone would hear me scream.

    He started to adjust his belt and unfasten his trousers. “Now we are going to party,” he said.

     Something shiny gleamed in my eyes. I looked at what it might be. An old whisky bottle lay at my feet and I reached down to retrieve it. His hands were dirty hooks as he latched onto me. My weapon was firm in my hand as I smashed it against his face. Shards of glittering pieces scattered like diamonds. Instantly his hands released me as he howled and brought his dirty mitts up to survey the gaping and bloody wound. I wasted no time. I thrust open the door and jumped out.

    I dodged one tree right after the other, looked back again and again over my shoulders. Any moment now I suspected he would be there chasing after me, but then I laughed at the thought. His fatass could not run! He was too out of shape and fat! Yes! But where could I go now? There was no way I was going back home, not ever again!

    Alice, I thought. Alice, I am so sorry. I should have stayed with you.

    Streets and avenues soared past as I galloped to her house. I was on the porch when I finally spent all my energy. Still, even as I gulped for air I feared any minute that Ford Thunderbird would round the corner and he would jump out. I crawled to the door, reached a shaky hand to the doorbell and pressed it. There was a long pause. I began to think no one was home and that I was royally fucked when the door swung open and I gazed up into the sweetest face I ever did see.

    “Alice,” I said and darkness engulfed me.

    The pain…all I could think of when my eyes opened was the mind numbing pain. It seemed to stretch from my cheek to my eye and wrap around my head. Even as the circle of light swelled overhead I fought to not wake up. Waking up meant that reality where I had no purpose except to be Jessie’s punching bag, a homeless and unwanted child with no ambition in life…I did not want to face it again. I wondered then if by chance there was a way to channel all my anger, hatred and self-loathing. I tried to think but the searing agony locked up all rational thought.