Killing Tink

Ch.1

Her fingers trembled as she put the finishing touches on the mobile. Five newspaper giraffes dangling above the dresser drawer.  She wasn't sure how giraffes equaled happiness, but they must have some connection. She remembered the baby section of the stores were full of them and her baby deserved a mobile, and a giraffe one at that.  When he or she grew up to go to college, they might remember dangling giraffe's and be brave, and have memories of a happy peaceful childhood.

And maybe it would be. Maybe she could really pull this off, just her and this baby against the world. It would start with getting away from Stash. Already, he did half the work for her--- smoking and drinking nonstop until he stumbled around like the kids she remembered from her life before spinning in circles on the lawn until they couldn't make a straight line even if they had to.

She sat in the room thinking of what life would be like without him.  Quiet, that's one thing. No more belching and farting and all those stupid groaning noises he constantly made. And the smells! The tangy smell of yeasty sweat and old booze that flowed from his nicotine filled pores when he got angry. Worst of all, the mix of them when his slick sweaty skin slapped loudly against hers;  she could go another fifty years without ever feeling or hearing that again. 

She was lucky she only saw him every couple of days. She knew she should be thankful for that. But the days she did were painful enough, and a baby wouldn't survive his temper. Babies were noisy and messy and unable to push things below and pretend. She'd have to find a way. This baby was all she had, and it would be happy.

She wasn't sure how to make it happen, but it would. She was going to raise this baby outside of here, and it would would have a perfect momma, not one that hobbled when she walked from kicks and the beatings. It would have a stand up tall one that brushes her hair and goes to work.  Maybe in a dress, with pumps.  That says winner, she could do that.  Not until the baby was older of course, there was no way she could leave a baby, her baby, with someone else and go to work.  The problem of course would be cash, you gotta have cash to take care of a baby.

Standing in front of the old wood table scarred by cigarette burns and littered with leftover change and bits of crumbs from Stash's late night arrivals, she worked her mind over to find a way to be that mom.  The small cracked mirror above it had a thick smokey film around the edges too dark to allow reflection.  It was probably for the best. She knew what she had looked like before, and it didn't take imagination to think about the now.

Her hand slowly reached upward to the grease filled hair that clung limply from her her head in strings and patches. She imagined it looked like it was glued on by a self-taught teen with access to the internet.  Her face would be thinner now, meals undelivered made that a sure bet.  The odds were good that blue and yellow outlines of bruises danced across her left upper cheek.  She rubbed her finger across it surprised it was soft and warm.  You'd think a bottle across your face would leave something permanent, a jutting bone or a bit of hanging flesh, but there was just a sore spot, soon to be erased, just like she was.  Her baby would never know that feeling, she'd make sure of that.

Instinctively she bit down on her bottom lip, aware that her growing baby had already known pain.  Just last week when Stash knocked her down the stairs for trying to break out when she thought he'd passed out.  She knew it felt that, landing in a heap at the bottom flat on her stomach. There was no way it wasn't aware.  Stash had probably given it a bruise, if that was even possible.  But she was gonna fix all that.

From somewhere above came the muffled hum of his car making her to jump and straighten her shoulders.  She put on her practiced smile and pinched her cheeks to turn back into the happy girl he liked to see.  She wouldn't give him a reason to be angry, not tonight.  Tonight she was ready to give up the battle, save her strength for the war. 

His large boots clumped down the rotting wooden stairs, heavy, and thunderous enough to make the walls shake while she waited.  If she had hanging pictures she knew they'd be swinging or falling, it was a strange thought.  Pictures would mean home, and this wasn't home. 

The jingle of the keys broke through her thoughts and set her into motion. She knew the rules without having to think them and moved quickly into place.  Her muscles twitched until she was safely in the creaky red rocking chair in the corner. Her liked her there, deep in the shadows, away from the swinging bulb that hung from the ceiling.  The padlock clicked followed by the familiar swish of the deadbolt sliding. When the door swung open it was so bright it burned her eyes.  Her hands clasped each other, as she willed herself to refuse the urge to shield them and keep her focus on the wall. Last week had reminded her that being tempted to act without being told was a very bad thing. Something that caused punishment and pain, she wouldn't let herself fall to impulse again.

"Look at you Tink!  Sitting all purty in the corner.  I knew you would be. I knew it so much I brought you a gift. You want a present, don't ya?'

Stash pulled out a brown paper bag from behind his back.  Grease soaked and crumpled, it filled the air with the smell of warm warm bread and meat.  Her stomach rolled and drool filled her mouth, but she didn't move.  It was bait, a trap.  The last time he brought her food it was pizza. It was hard and cold, but it danced across her tongue and made her feel like she had superpowers. Even later, when she vomited up giant chunks of half chewed pizza that refused to be digested, it was worth it. It was the baby, she was sure of that.  Babies don't like pizza, she should have thought that over more, and would have, if she weren't so hungry.

"Thank you."

She smiled, she did it.  She got the upper hand.  Refused to run to the food and remembered the thank you.  She could do this.

"Now then!  That's what I'm talking about!  Always be thankful for the person who feeds you.  There's a saying about that. Something about dogs or horses or whatever.  Now how about your present. Do you want a present?"

She eyed the bag and he laughed.  "A burger?  You think you're a dog?  That I'd bring you a burger and call it a gift?  Obviously I'm not treating my best girl good enough if she thinks a burger is a gift.  Here, eat it, and then I can show you your real gift."

The soggy bag left his fist and sailed through the air landing close to her feet.  She reached down slowly, waiting to see if the punishment for being hungry was a great as the punishment for wanting to leave.

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I don't have anything to say here. This character wont stop haunting me. For 24 chapters so far I have tried to kill her voice in my ear and throw this idea out. But it hasn't worked yet.