Page 113 of Hostile Saint

“That’s right. Get on the phone and get me a realtor who don’t mind cash sales.”

“Aw fuck, Prez,” chuckled Vice. “You going dark means it’s almost time to play.”

When he readjusted in his seat, Dagger eyed him. “Tell me you’re not getting a chub.”

Vice stared at my childhood home, his voice going deep. “Oh, it’s happenin’. I’ve been craving this revenge.”

I stared at the dark house, the one that housed my nightmares, and thought to myself… Maybe this time, the nightmares created won’t be mine. They will be… theirs.

“Pup, how close was your household to the neighbors?” asked Vice.

“Never shared a word with them.”

Dagger peered at Lynx. “Change of plans? Take advantage of no one here?”

Leaning into me to see better, Prez studied the house. “I do like to take advantage of perfect circumstances.”

Due to a hide-a-key, I had us inside with no delay, except for my stuttering heart. It was beating so hard, so fast, I was sure it was missing beats. The house smelled musty and felt haunted. The front living room looked as if it hadn’t seen a duster in years. Had it always looked like this? I was unaware of the home’s former condition because I was usually rushing through to get to my room without being noticed.

Through the living room window, I saw Charlie staring at the house through the SUV window. He was still being quiet like I had told him to be.

The three men with me were studying everything, slowly moving from the living room to the small dining room that was part of the eat-in kitchen. The round table had four chairs that weren’t properly pushed in, so we stepped around them. There was an odor coming from a trashcan that had never been emptied. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink. The dishwasher was open, half-full of clean dishes that no one had bothered to put away. Another duty that had been mine.

In the back living room, which had once been used as a den, a TV hung on the wall covered in dust. The couches had an array of items sprawled about as if no one ever bothered to clean up after themselves. There was even an open bag of chips on the coffee table. I hissed as a roach ran from the bag looking for cover. I hated roaches. I sometimes had woken with one on me in my bed. At the time, I thought I deserved the nasty bugs. Now, I was realizing my fake-family had been disgusting pigs.

Lynx, Dagger, and Vice kept moving about, touching things like the lampshades and picture frames on the walls.

Dagger reached into the fireplace and up into the shaft, then quietly said, “Nothin’.”

Lynx asked, “Kid, where was your room?”

To the left of the back living room was a hallway that led to bedrooms. The hallway sat behind the kitchen, which was toward the side of the house and continued all the way back to the front living room. My bedroom was the one at the back of the house.

On the floor in the corner of the room sat my mattress. I had one dingy pillow and two sheets, a minimal amount of folded clothes in my closet, and some hanging—

“Where the fuck is your furniture?” growled a highly agitated Lynx.

I pointed to my lamp next to my mattress.

While leaving us in the room, Lynx lit a cigarette.

Hostility in his grey eyes, I wasn’t about to mention there was to be no smoking in the house.

Vice’s eyes were locked on my toothbrush, next to my lamp. The bristles were all bent and worn. I could see he was now understanding my issue with such a simple item. But he had been kind and taught me my new reality.

“Hey,” I told him, “now I can have a hundred new ones, right?”

His jaw dislocated as he looked at me.

Smiling, Dagger shook his head while leaving the room. “They just don’t make them like you no more, Saint.”

In my brother’s rooms, there was an abundance of everything a teenage boy would want. Flat-screen TVs on the walls. Clothes not being taken care of, all over the floor.

My fake mom’s room was the same. Many pillows adorned her fancy bed. Wall to wall furniture. Purses, shoes… littered about.

Lynx lit another cigarette as he left her room.

In the living room, he slowly turned in a circle, puffing his smoke. “In plain sight. Talk to me, boys.”