Brotherhood of Cain (Werewolf/Mafia)

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Breaking Legs

"Fiction has been maligned for centuries as being "false," "untrue," yet good fiction provides more truth about the world, about life, and even about the reader, than can be found in non-fiction." - Clark Zlotchew

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ethel's POV

"Debora, just listen to me!"

  The scream came from behind the paper thin walls, ricocheting through the bathroom. I huddled beside the stained door, ear pressed against it. My arms curled around my legs, the nightshirt just barely covering my thighs. The cold tiles combined with the chill sneaking in through the window had me trying to get even smaller, to preserve the heat.

  Tycho whined beside me, his small body shaking as he sat beside me, ribcage apparent through his fur. Glassy puppy eyes stared up at me and I picked him up and settled him against my belly, both of us cuddling in fear and frostbite. I rubbed the velvet soft fur atop his head, trying to remain calm.

  "I'm done listening, you jackass!" Mommy matched the tone of the other scream, her usually low voice screeching in my ears. Glass shattered and my heart rate kicked up a notch.

  Resting my head against the door, I absently stroked Tycho, eyes falling around the room. Compared to the other motels we'd stayed at this month, this was by far the dirtiest. It sat at the edge of town, a few rooms with a ratty strip club next door. It was were Mommy worked when she wasn't inviting men over. Dad had gone off on another one of his binge's, leaving the bills and expenses to Mommy, and she supported us the only way she knew how—selling her body.

  The walls were thick with mold, the sink chipped and yellow, the bathtub brown. Mommy had pulled the cheap shower curtain over it so we didn't have to see the filth lining it. A small trashcan sat beside the toilet, filled to the brim with condoms and soda cans.

  "I have a right to see her!" the same man yelled again. Heavy footsteps neared the bathroom and my stomach clenched, a lot worse than when I was hungrier earlier.

  I heard the telltale sign of someone getting slapped and since Dad wasn't around, Mommy was usually the one doing it. "You don't have any fucking rights. Those rights are long gone. Now, get out!"

  "Keep your hands off me," the man growled, the sound sending goosebumps up my arm. It was somehow worse than Dad's, tinted with a darker edge, one that promised violence without the need to physically touch. "You don't get to touch me anymore. Not since you've been shacking up behind my back with him. And then asking me from money, you're nothin' but a whore!"

  "You were more than happy to sign yourself up for it! In fact, you were three-hundred dollars more than happy. But I guess since you've got yourself a fancy lady you're better than us, huh?"

  The footsteps left the bathroom door and I sighed in relief. "I proposed. I gave you a ring and you spat on it. Just like you do with everything else. Selfish slut!"

  I braced myself for something else to shatter, for Mommy to hit him again, but that didn't come. "Get out."

  The man muttered something and I realized I wouldn't be able to hear anymore through the door. Carefully cracking it, I spotted the feet to match those footsteps, dark work boots. A pink dress filled my sight as Mom came to a stop in front of the bathroom, back to the door like she was protecting me.

  "I want you to get out, right now." The floor creaked as the man moved. "Leave before Don comes back." I knew Don wasn't coming back anytime soon though, and maybe so did the man.