Page 132 of Satan's Spawn

I took no part in the physical labor, steering clear of the living room completely and laying up in bed with Potato by my side. It’s pushing noon, though, and if I want to make it to my destinations today, I need to get my behind moving and out of this crazy house.

Which is why I’m already dressed in a jean skirt and black cropped tee, holding Potato in my arms as I dare to enter the room, where I hear Roman finally getting fed up with Mom and telling her to butt out.

“Alright alright, I’ll let you handle it.” Mom holds up her hands and circles into the kitchen, finally putting a lid on the twenty-seven “suggestions” I’ve heard her offering Roman through the walls.

“Hi baby!” Mom beams as I join them. “You slept late. Want some breakfast?”

Roman turns to me after securing the couch in the middle of the living room, wiping his brow. “What’s up, Bex? You headed out already?”

I look down at my outfit. “Uh, yeah, I have that project I need to do some research on, remember?”

He taps his forehead. “Ah, yes. That’s right. Need some money for lunch?”

I smile uncomfortably, knowing the debit card they gave me needs some replenishing, but I haven’t had the heart to tell him. “Uhm, if you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem, let me grab my wallet.” He starts walking toward the bedrooms, adding, “I’ll fill your debit card too while I’m at it, I think I forgot last week.”

Mom blows him a kiss before he disappears down the hall, then turns to me. “So what do you wanna eat, baby, some pancakes?”

“Yeah, sure.” I place Potato on the floor with a smooch, then climb on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island.

Mom reaches for the remote, turning on the TV she insisted she needed in the kitchen for when she cooks, and gets to work on my pancakes.

Potato watches me at my feet, never leaving my side when I’m home.

“I think I can squeeze in a quick walk with my Chunky Muffin.” I bend over and pet his head, making his tail wag. “But first…breakfast.”

After one more pat on the head, I straighten, reach for the orange juice Mom placed on the island, and pour myself a glass. I take several long sips as the voices on the TV screen pull my attention.

“Police presence has increased in the Borden Heights area of Manhattan, where a man was brutally attacked last night leaving a local bar.”

Mom stops pouring the flour into a bowl and turns up the volume on the TV.

“Sources say the fifty year old man, who’s name has not yet been released, was leaving the Stale Goat around three thirty in the morning, and was stabbed multiple times and castrated before the perpetrator took off on foot. The victim was brought to New York Presbyterian Hospital where he succumbed to his wounds.” The female caster folds her hands on the table, adding, “According to local authorities, the deceased was on the sex offenders list, which leads authorities to believe this act of violence may also be related to the four other attacks to known offenders in the past week. Although it has not been confirmed if these attacks are linked, the authorities say it is likely. Police do not yet have any leads on the suspect…”

“Jesus.” Mom shakes her head, switching off the TV. “I don’t know why I bother watching this crap anymore. There’s nothing but bad news on every channel.”

I reach for the orange juice, and pour myself some more, sarcastically singing, “Welcome to New York City.”

“Oh, honey, please. You’re naive to believe none of this crap happened on the west coast.”

Of course it did, but now I feel like I’m living in the epicenter of chaos. Especially at Riverside.

“Here you go.” Roman appears, handing me a couple twenties. “Your cards all filled up too.”

“Thanks, Roman.” I take the money from him. “This means a lot.”

“Eh, no problem, kiddo. Keep up the good work, we’re proud of you.”

The compliment stings, even though I know it shouldn’t.

Roman means well, as well as any father figure would.

But all his kind words manage to do is remind me of who should be the one saying them, and how I’ll never get the chance to hear them from his lips again.

“So proud.” Mom reaches for me and squeezes my hand.

I manage a smile and stand, knowing if I stay here any longer these two will sense my sadness.