Page 361 of Phobia

I yearn to feel him bare inside me. My cheeks heat in shame. I'm not safe for Delorean. I’ve been careless.

I tuck my head in the crook of his shoulder, basking in his warmth.

“I love you,” I tell him again, and I pray he never tires of hearing it. "I'm not...I'm sorry. I wish, I wasn't...I wish I had been more careful. Before…”

Dee understands. He’s perfect that way. ““Shhh. Is this what you want angel? You want to be full, your belly ripe with my seed?” He kisses my forehead and walks slowly to our bed. He sits on the edge, still kissing me and caressing my hair. “I will breed you every day my love. I will fill your belly with my seed. I will mark you with my scent. Mine. Forever.”

I look up. “But I––

He places his finger gently over my lips.

“We'll both get tested.” He kisses me gently, but I'm still furious. I feel helpless. I love him so much I'm losing my mind. This man who holds my heart in his hand deserves more than the leftovers my body has become after years of homelessness and desperation.

“I wish you had found me years ago,” I sob out against his lips. “I wish I was better. You deserve better, Dee.”

He frames my face into his hands gently and shakes his head with a sad smile. “Oh, darling, you were always mine. It just took me a while to find you.”He kisses my tears away, “You’re finally home, Anthony.”

Epilogue

Halloween 1984

“Mama, are we there yet?”

My mother threw a quick glance at me over her shoulder. I couldn't see much of her expression. Her face was hidden under the hood of her raincoat, but her pursed lips told me all I needed to know. She tugged my hand, giving it a tighter squeeze, then sped up her pace, so I would stop asking her stupid questions and focus my attention on where I was going.

I figured if she was moving faster now, maybe we were close after all.

It wasn't pouring yet, but the angry flashes of lightning and the heavy thunder rolling through the streets were a clear indicator a much heavier rainstorm was coming.

The shelter we used to stay in was at capacity and they turned us away, even if mom tried to shove me in front and kept pleading with the supervisor that we had nowhere to go. The man seemed to consider it briefly, but in the end, shook his head and sent us on our way.

The train station was full to the brim – that’s where we had come from in the first place.

We had been on the street for so long, I couldn’t even remember our little apartment anymore. Not the address, or what I saw out of my bedroom window.

What I did remember was the way it felt to be there – to open my eyes first thing in the morning and feel safe. To hear my mother making breakfast in the kitchen. To never be hungry. To never worry about anything other than going to school and playing with my friends.

I was too young to know then what had burned our lives to ashes and forced us out into the streets. I guess the fact that my mother loved me so much and continued doing everything short of the impossible for me made me believe that all of it was a bad dream. Any moment now, she would rush into my room, tuck me in her arms and tell me, “Shhh, Dee, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up, my love. I’m right here. I got you.”

We keep walking through the rain, which seems to be getting heavier. My clothes are drenched, and my cold hand slips out of her grip so often, she starts dragging me by the sleeve of my jacket. I’m too tired to whine, but my heavy wet clothes wear me down and I stumble and fall, pulling her down to her knees abruptly, causing her to drop her own bag in a puddle next to us.

Mama is so startled that her first reaction is to turn to me and slap me hard across the face. I know why – the money is in that bag, all our spare clothes, our documents. It’s probably all ruined now. I cry not because of the slap, but because I feel helpless. I don’t know how to do anything right. I’m only slowing her down and causing her grief.

Mama sobs out and drags me to her chest, kissing me frantically. “Baby I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. I know you’re tired. I should have found us a place to sleep sooner. I’m sorry.”

I don’t say anything because I don’t want her to stop holding me. But once we are so soaked, we start shivering in the cold, she drags us up to our feet and starts marching forward with renewed vigor, determined to find us shelter for the night. I practically run after her, spurred on by the sense of desperation permeating from my mother.

Suddenly we stop and the next thing I hear is glass shattering. My mother drags me from the street and lowers me into the darkness of some sort of basement. She jumps on the floor next to me right after and we both stand still, panting, trying to make out where we’ve ended up finding safety from the storm.

It’s difficult to see much in this place. It’s dusty, that’s for sure. My mother grips my hand and we venture further into the darkness, looking for a dry corner, away from the broken glass.

Even if we’re out of the rain, there is nothing to be done about our wet clothes. I shiver when Mom tucks me closer to her chest, trying to share with me every bit of warmth she has.

I don’t want to cry anymore, but I'm scared. I want to go home. But. There is no such place for us anymore.

“Shhh, don’t cry, baby,” she says, as her own voice breaks into a sob. We both end up crying ourselves to sleep.

***