3 | Pain

I close the lid to my computer when the bank transition is successful. Despite wanting a fresh start from my parents, I find myself coming back to them for money. They won't miss it and I need it . . . it's one of those cycles I'm caught in. At some point in my old life, I'd have laughed.

At some point, my parents will notice the money slowly leaking from their account and cut me off. Between now and then, I hope to find a sustainable job to pay the bills. From my observations, it's either begging to flip burgers across the road or joining a gang. I don't think I'm gang material; not with these night terrors.

There's a knock on the door which makes me jump with shock. I place the laptop in the suitcase and slide it under the bed. The sheets fall back down which somewhat conceals what's under the bed.

Yanking the door open, I smile when I see Scarlett standing in front of me. Her freckled cheeks bloom a pale pink which makes me smile. It's only when I look down that I notice I'm dressed in briefs.

The smile plastered on my face doesn't falter for a moment. I can't let her see I'm embarrassed wearing my underwear.

"I've, um, I've got your washing." Scarlett hands the neatly folded washing to me.

"Thank you again for doing it," I reply.

"No, um." She sniffles. "Worries."

The sound of her sniffles has me confused. My knees bend as I peer down to gaze into her green eyes. It's then that I notice the puffy red skin.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing." She shrugs.

"Well, something is clearly wrong." I frown.

"I'm fine." Her words ring through my mind painfully. I guess I deserve that one.

"If there's nothing wrong with you . . . there's nothing wrong with me," I mutter under my breath.

"That's right." Scarlett quickly spins on her heels to walk away.

I unintentionally slam the door shut. The thudding noise echoes through the room as I cuss under my breath. There's a sudden burn of curiosity coursing through my system; why would someone want to make her upset?

Taking a step back, I walk towards my drawers for something to wear. I tug on a plain green shirt and a pair of black pants. I fetch my wallet from the side table and leave the room. I make a quick exit from the motel and wander to the diner.

Scarlett had said it herself . . . Gloria knows everything. Perhaps she'll be able to tell me about Scarlett? All people can be bought in the end, you just have to figure out their price.

I push the diner door open and I'm instantly greeted by the smell of sizzling bacon and fried eggs. The delightful smell reminds me of home. When we were children, my parents would sit my brother and I at the table and cook a large breakfast platter.

Mum would tell Dad off for eating bacon, though my younger brother would slip his crunch bits onto Dad's plate when she wasn't looking. We stopped doing that after the accident. Everything was too painful for them.

I slip into one of the booths and wait for Gloria to rush past. The coffee pot brewing looks delicious. I thought leaving home would stop the nightmares from happening, but in fact, they've intensified which has made sleep an impossible task.

"Hi, is there something I can get you?" I look up to see Gloria holding a notepad. She grabs a pen that's wedged in her messy bun, then looks at me.

"Um." I glance at the menu. "The breakfast burrito and a cup of coffee."

"Sure." Gloria smiles as she scribbles down the order.

I watch as she rips the ticket off and hands it to the cook, then swings past to grab a mug and the coffee pot. Gloria places the cup down, fills it up and rushes to the kitchen to collect my meal.

"Anything else?"

"What do you know about Scarlett?" I grab my wallet and pull a bill out. Sliding it across the table, I smirk and wait for her response. Gloria looks around before accepting the money. She stuffs it into her breast pocket.

"What do you want to know?" she sheepishly inquires.

"Everything," I answer.

"There isn't much to know about a girl like her," says Gloria. "She turned up in town much like yourself. Her father is an abuser of many things. He occasionally comes into town looking for her."

"Oh." I frown.

"That's all I know." Gloria looks over her shoulder before slumping further down in the booth.

"Or is that all you want to tell me?" I inquire.

"It's all the same." Gloria shoots me a glare before slipping out of the booth.

While Gloria returns to work, I continue to sit in the booth and ponder about Scarlett. I wonder if her tears have anything to do with her father? Maybe he's threatening her? Although, Ricky looks like he could protect her. Maybe it's something else?

Tossing the thought from my mind, I pick up the burrito and take a bite. The oil from the egg drops down my chin, so I clean the mess with a napkin neatly placed on the plate.

Once I'm finished, I leave some money for the food and a tip on the side. As I leave, I watch Gloria rush to the table to collect it. I know I shouldn't waste money, but having Gloria feeding out of my pocket will be a great source.

I walk back to the motel and yank on the door. As I step inside, a bright sea of red hair flies into my chest by accident. I wrap an arm around her waist to make sure she doesn't fall down.

Scarlett looks up and I see the tears trickling down her cheek. The door swings closed, hitting my shoulder.

"What's wrong, Scarlett?" I ask. "Let me help you."

"There's nothing wrong."

"There's clearly something wrong, you're crying for heaven's sake!" I point out.

Scarlett takes a step back and cleans the tears from her face. Within that moment, I watch as her innocent green doe eyes blaze with defiance.

"Then tell me why you wake up every morning screaming."

"My problems aren't your concern, but I want to help you. Is this to do with your father?" 

"My father? Have you been talking to Gloria?"

"I want to help you."

"Stay away from me, Peirce!" she screams.

Scarlett pushes past me as she runs out of the motel and somewhere down the street. I consider chasing after her, but I let her go. She knows these streets better than I do, so I'm sure she'll be safe.

I wish I could help her, though. If I can't help myself, maybe I could help her? I doubt she'd tell me anything, and I doubt she'd let me help her. But I'm going to try, even if she says no. Everyone needs a little help in life, she's no exception to it.  

Have you ever tried to help someone and they didn't want the help?