Bottom Feeder (39 page)

Trusting her with those two boxes I
kept hidden all those years is one of the most difficult things
I've ever agreed to. I cannot take them with me, and as much as I
love Dom, the relationship is still new. Jackson is out of the
question. I trust him. As stupid as that seems, I really do. It’s
his demons I don’t trust.

Everything in the apartment that isn’t
bolted down is being hauled away. I cleared everything on the
laptop and tablet. Jackson mapped out pawn shops in New Jersey and
Maryland, where they will sell both of them along the way. He also
suggested the cell phones should be cleared and donated to a
women’s shelter. He said they are turned on for the women to have
numbers for potential employers and for access to 911.

“
The car has to go,” I
announce when a commercial comes on.

“
The Beemer's too
noticeable to sell or donate,” Dom says. “It would raise too many
questions.”

“
The only thing you
can
do is burn
it.”

“
Exactly,” I
reply.

Simultaneous eyebrow
raises.

I place the paper from my lawyer on
the table. Dom reads over the information. Twice. Jackson looks
pained.

“
What kind of lawyer is
she, Maddy?” Dom asks, handing the paper to Jackson.

“
A quiet one.”

Jackson holds up the paper. “You trust
me with this?”

I smile knowingly. “Oh, I don’t think
you’ll try anything shady.”

“
What makes you think I
won’t?”

“
Because one phone call to
Violet will change your mind in two-point-two seconds.”

Jackson shudders. Dom laughs, “She
brought out the big guns on that one, Monroe.”

We discuss the plan, things that could
go wrong with the plan, escape routes if the plan goes wrong, and
who to call if bail money is needed. By 2 a.m. they are asleep in
the living room. I lie awake, cradled into Dom. His arms are
wrapped around me and his hands are laced in mine under my chin. I
kiss his fingers. His wrist.

I feel his response to my kisses
pressed against my bottom. A stirring I’ve never felt before
tingles in my belly. I like the feeling. It scares me, but I like
it. I snuggle further into him and he pulls me tighter.

The next morning, I reluctantly peel
myself away from Dom’s still-sleeping body and leave for the
school’s exit interview. He calls while I’m finishing the paperwork
in President Highland’s office. I allow the call go to voicemail.
After more prodding, Highland reluctantly signs over the anonymous
tuition donation.

I do not look back when I walk out the
doors.

I drop off the cell phones at a
women’s shelter before stopping by the youth center and saying
goodbye to the kids. Cecilia piggy backs me the entire time. I feel
like I’m letting her down by leaving, but what other choice do I
have? I can stay and be killed, or I can leave with a proper
goodbye to save my own life.

The kids’ parting gift is a handmade
address book with each of their names and addresses inside. I
promise to write them.

“
I less than three you,
Maddy,” Cecilia says.

“
I less than three you,
too, sweetie.” I wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her wild
curls. “Be good, okay?”

I let go of her hands and wipe the
tears from her eyes. It’s hard to walk out, knowing I will never
see her again.

I do not look back when I walk out the
doors.

Monroe and I are
sightseeing
, Dom’s message said.
We’ll meet you at the recruiting office at
eleven.

“
You ready to go, G-A?”
Sergeant Davis doesn’t look up from his desk. He is finalizing the
paperwork that promises me to the United States Army for four
years.

“
I’m ready,
Sergeant.”

He proceeds to go over everything I’m
going to need, plus forbidden items.

Do you know there’s a
clause saying you can’t take your grandparents to basic training?
For that to even
be
a clause, someone in the past brought their grandparents with
them. Honestly, did they think the drill sergeants would overlook
someone’s grandpa dropping and giving twenty?

Sergeant Davis shoos me out of the
office by ten thirty. I try calling Dom to meet for lunch, but the
call goes straight to voicemail. The same happens when I try
Jackson. They are probably at the MoMA with their phones turned
off. I send Dom a text to say I am going to the apartment. After
much hailing, I slide into a cab and stretch across the
backseat.

“
Good morning,” Sonny
greets not-so-happily.

“
Morning, Mr. Sonny,” I
reply as he opens the door. “How are you?”

He doesn’t look at me when he says,
“Goodthankstakecarenow.”

I’m a little taken aback by his solemn
mood. “You sure you’re okay, sir?”

He glances uneasily to the side and
slaps a smile on his face. “Yes, Miss Carrington. Have a good
day.”

I proceed to my apartment, thinking
about his strange behavior and hoping everything is okay. I work
through the deadbolts and turn the key in the doorknob. Before I
turn the handle, my hair is pulled from behind and my face slammed
into the unopened door.

The sour smell etches my nostrils
before his words reach my ear.

“
Heard you got some
friends in town this weekend,” Larry growls, pushing open the door
and throwing me to the floor. “Let’s give them a nice
welcome.”

I take a moment to realize why Sonny
was acting so strange.

Jackson

Shadows of skyscrapers
pool in shades of black on the asphalt. Movements and faces reflect
menacingly against storefront windows. Horns sound with
beepbeep beeeeeeeeeeep,
sirens blare,
cars backfire, and
music streams from various directions. Voices of thousands of
people have become one loud murmur. This city never ends.
Ever
.

I begin to sweat. My heart rate
increases. I feel my blood distribute to my limbs and muscles,
preparing me to fight. Or flee. It was only a matter of time before
I began looking for an enemy in a sea of faces.

“
We should eat,” Beraz
says. “You look like shit.”

We walk for blocks and end up in a
juice bar that only serves food like kale muffins and sweet potato
parsley juice. The muffins aren’t bad—I eat three, actually—but I
needed something that doesn’t involve Thanksgiving dinner side
dishes in the form of juice.

“
Monroe,” Beraz says
quietly, tossing his unfinished brownish-greenish protein smoothie
concoction in the garbage. “I’m not feeling . . . I don’t know. I
feel weird.”

I nod in agreement.

Between all the people, the health
food overload and my impromptu adrenaline spike, I’m dead tired and
drained from too much human interaction by the time we get to the
recruiting office.

“
Hey, Private,” one of the
recruiters says. He shakes Beraz’s hand then turns to me. “You must
be Specialist Monroe. I’m Sergeant Davis.”

I promptly stand at attention. “Nice
to meet you, Sergeant.”

“
At ease, Specialist.
We’re not that formal around here.”

“
Is she in the back?”
Beraz looks anxiously over Sergeant Davis’s shoulder.

He shakes his head. “The appointment
was over by ten thirty.”

Beraz turns on his phone. It beeps
with a text message. “She’s gone back to the apartment.”

For the next few minutes I talk with
Sergeant Davis and another recruiter, Sergeant Tuan, about Fort
Bragg. Beraz tries to contact Maddy with no luck.

Suddenly, he jumps from his seat and
bolts out the door. I say goodbye to the recruiters and run after
him.

We should have known something was
wrong when the doorman, Sonny, eyes us uneasily as we approach the
building. There is a slight chill in the air from yesterday’s rain,
but the man is sweating profusely.

“
G-g-g-g-ood
after-r-r-r-n-n-noon, ff-ellas.” I don’t remember him having a
stutter.

The uneasy look. The sweating. The
stutter. None of this tipped us off.

It isn’t until we step off the
elevator and spot the small spatter of blood on the crisp white
apartment door that panic sets in.

I bang on the door while Beraz fumbles
for the keys.

“
Do you have them?” he
asks, his voice heavy with alarm. I shake my head and continue
banging on the door while he pulls a credit card and an Army-issued
Gerber knife from his pocket. “This shit is not a
coincidence.”

“
You break into many
houses, Beraz?” The crack in my voice does not mask my
panic.

“
Small trick of the
trade,” he replies grimly. “If those deadbolts are locked, we’re
kicking this door in.”

Seconds later, he pushes the door
open. The scene before me glides through my brain in slow motion.
Maddy’s immaculate, spick-and-span apartment is turned upside down.
Plates are shattered across the floor. Bistro chairs are smashed to
pieces. Couch cushions and pillows are strewn everywhere, the couch
overturned.

Drops of blood spatter trail randomly
throughout the space. My heart drops when I spot a pair of jeans on
the floor that, by the look of them and the blood around the
waistband, appear to have been ripped violently from her
body.

“
Oh, God,” I mumble. “Oh,
God.”

“
Maddy!” Beraz calls out.
He pauses beside me. His body seems to fold in on itself at the
sight of the tattered clothing at my feet. He checks the master and
spare bedrooms while I proceed down the hallway.

I turn the bathroom’s doorknob.
“Beraz, this one’s locked.”

“
Kick that shit
open!”

I kick that shit open.

“
Sweet Jesus,” I whisper
at the sight.

Beraz rushes past me. Maddy is in the
bathtub with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. The tub is
filled with ankle-deep, murky pink water. An oddly familiar
cocktail of liquor and bad cologne fills the air.

“
Baby, look at me,” Beraz
says. “Please look at me.”

No response.

I drop to my knees beside
the tub and begin draining the icy water. When we left this morning
she was wearing a white shirt that read,
I
love you to the moon and back
. Now the
material is unrecognizable in shreds of blood-caked
fabric.

I do not recognize her
face.

Bruises have formed on her arms,
cheeks, and beneath her eyes. Blood seeps from a range of places I
cannot pinpoint. The cut above her left eyebrow has clotted. A
large bump sticks out above the right. Her nose and mouth are
stained with crusted blood.

Part of my mind says to
call 911. The other part knows Maddy would not want that. Beraz is
right, this shit is
not
a coincidence. But what, exactly, does that mean?
Before I can process anything, Beraz tries scooping her out of the
tub.

Maddy screams and throws a punch,
clocking Beraz on the jaw. Her eyes are open, but she isn’t there.
She’s in survival mode. Wavering for an instant after the blow,
Beraz shakes himself and tries lifting her again. Maddy kicks and
screams out words I never thought would come out of her mouth.
Instead of swinging, this time she springs to her knees. Something
clangs against the bathtub as she locks both hands around Beraz’s
wrists, holding him in a control grip. He tilts his head just in
time to avoid her headbutt.

“
Dammit, where did she
learn this?”

If you’ve ever been in a
control grip, then you know they are nearly impossible to break
unless the distributor is weak or you use your legs to distract
him. Or in this case,
her
. I’ve been on the receiving end
of Maddy’s control grip, and let me tell you she is not weak. As a
matter of fact, it hurts likes hell.

“
Maddy, wake up!” I
plead.

Her eyes flutter rapidly. Recognition
crosses her face. She releases Beraz’s wrists and slumps back into
the water.

I notice something on the other side
of the tub. I reach across to pick up the tiny—whatever it
is.

“
What is that?” Beraz
asks. He tries to examine Maddy, but she hugs her knees and places
her head on top of them.

“
A tooth?” I raise my
eyebrows at the blood-crusted incisor resting in the palm of my
hand. “We should take her to the hospital.”

“
No!” Maddy begins to
rock. “It’s not
my
tooth.”

“
Who did this?” Beraz asks
at the same time I ask, “Were you raped?”

“
I just need a minute.
Just one minute. Please.” Without looking up, she wraps her hand
around the object that earlier clanged against the tub.