Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I drop my bag and rush toward her. Squatting at her chair, I almost cry at the blank look in her eyes. Reaching up, I pull the rag gently away and gasp as I take in the rest of her face.
She’s been hit more than a few times. One cheekbone is swollen and bruised, both eyes are already turning purple, and blood is crusted around both nostrils.
“Is it that bad?” she mumbles, giving a wry smile that shows me her teeth are coated in blood.
“Who did this to you?” I ask, raising a trembling hand to touch her cheek, but I pull it back, afraid I’ll hurt her.
“Don’t know their names. Never saw them. They jumped me outside the grocery store, threw me in their car. One guy was in the back seat, beating on me. They didn’t want to take me back to the grocery store, so they asked me where I wanted to be dropped off. I gave them your address.”
I’m appalled and pissed they—whoever the fuck they are—know where I live, but I’ll worry about that later.
“They said far worse would happen if I don’t come up with the money. They said—”
My hand goes to her shoulder, but I don’t squeeze because I’m going to assume she took punches to more than just her face. “Okay, we’ll talk about that, but first, I need to take you to the hospital.”
“No. They’ll call the police, and that’s a sure way to get me killed.”
“Mom… you’re really hurt.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I know. Just… patch me up as best you can?”
She shifts in the chair and winces from the movement.
“Mom… did they…”
Blinking back tears, she shakes her head. “No… they didn’t touch me that way. Just their fists, but I’m going to have bruises all over.”
Sighing, I straighten up and hold out my hand. “Okay… no hospital, no police. But I need to go upstairs and get some medical supplies. I don’t think you should be walking up the stairs.”
My mom nods and then dips her head to stare blankly at the table.
I shoot up the stairs and into the bathroom to rummage through the small pantry for what I need.
Back downstairs, I attend to my mom’s injuries, first cleaning away the blood as gently as I can from her nose. The inside of her cheeks have been shredded by her teeth from a punch or slap, which I’m betting is the same hit that bruised her cheekbone, and I have her rinse with warm salt water. There’s nothing to bandage, but I pull a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, crush them up until the bag is malleable, and have her hold it to her face. “Move it around after a few minutes,” I instruct. Bruises are blooming in several areas. “Do you need me to look at your body?”
She shakes her head. “No. Nothing’s broken or bleeding. I can tell.”
“I’ll make some tea.”
I put on a kettle, content to sit in silence watching it rather than asking my mother for more details. She’s content to keep the peas on her face and stare at the table.
When I have the chamomile brewed for her, she sets the peas down to curl her hand around the warm cup.
“Why did you have them bring you here?” I ask as I take the adjacent chair.
“I don’t know,” she says, her hands trembling as she holds the warm cup. “I knew I needed help, and I was scared.”
“What did they say about the money?”
“Just that this was a taste if we don’t pay up, but honestly, Stevie.” Her eyes fill with tears again. “I think they’ll kill us. Ten thousand dollars isn’t anything to these people—which is why we thought we could get away with it—but I got a bad feeling that either we pay the money or we die.”
I rest my elbows on the table, bury my face in my hands, and squeeze my eyes shut to prevent the torrent of tears threatening to break free. This has become far too real, and now I’m truly frightened.
Sighing, my hands fall away and I ask my mom, “When is the money due?”
“Two weeks.”
“I can get two thousand right now off my credit card. Will they accept that?”
“As payment in full?” she asks with a mirthless laugh. “Stevie… wake up. I think they’d rather kill us. It would send a nice message to their other minions.”
I push out of my chair and pace the kitchen. “I’ve got my car listed for sale, but no one wants to pay what it’s worth. I can lower the price and get maybe another three thousand.”
At the sink, I lean on my hands to steady myself while staring at my backyard. I hadn’t realized how gray and overcast it was today. I’d felt happy and joyful at breakfast and didn’t even notice the dreary weather.