I know The Devil

Chapter 016| A home to my home

~ So I wait for you like a lonely house

Till you would see me again and live in me

Till then my windows ache.

I sighed, closing my eyes as he turned the corner I’d told him to. He was just about to see a place he thought abstract and unreal before today. A place completely ridden with a pungent odour, abandoned trailers that now serve as a home for few and how normal it is for air to be completely contaminated with weed. Creekside, my home.

I placed my hand on top of his before I could stop myself knowing he didn’t deserve any bit of this. Yes, he was being persistent, fucking stubborn and might have ulterior motives for sticking around my body like a leech but I’m not that type of girl. The type that would intentionally get someone hurt.

“Look,” I swallowed after I have made him stop his car as he noted how serious I looked, “I know that when I said here was not your typical neighbourhood, you thought I meant average, perhaps lacking in too trimmed lawns, way shiny Marts or women dressed from head to toe in designers. My neighbourhood is something else. It is dangerous, full of hoodlums,” he watched with earnest attention even as I met his eyes, licking my lips at my next admission, “God, I’m worried for you.”

I expected him to do what any sensible guy would do, what I’d do if I was just told I was walking into a land that barbarians lie in wait, men who would see him and his car as a shiny chest to exploit from, but he ignited his engine and I widen my eyes.

“What are you doing?” I could tell we had just crossed a pothole despite how good the shock absorbers of the car were. There was one right before you completely entered Creekside. I regarded it as a boundary of sorts.

“I’m taking you home?”

I widen my eyes, “Do you think I’m worth sacrificing a Martin one-77 which production is limited to only 77, last I heard about it? This has a V12 engine that is the most powerful naturally aspirated engine in any production car in the world.” He gave me a momentary look, the corner of his lips curved and almost hinting at a smile. Of course, he’d find it funny that the poor girl knew more about his car than he, himself.

“You grew up here?”

I rolled my eyes, turning to see my neighbourhood through his eyes at least, flies were attracted to something at the side of the untarred road and I knew if not that the glass was up, I would be hearing the laughter of children, giggling and playing. From the corner of my eyes, Mrs Robinson one of the few privileged people who live in our neighbourhood that was well respected since she was way off than most of us gawked at the shiny car probably wondering who had lost his way and why the occupant of the car wasn’t turning back at the sight of the potholes in front of him or deserted uncompleted buildings which served as a special spot for criminals. That’s where they smoked, discussed hits, got patronized, and split monies. That was their tavern but that didn’t mean they only remained there. God, Law was certainly crazy.

Graffiti paintings adorned walls and on top of block slabs, I could see spray cans that were just recently used. Whoever had used them was not far away. Whoever owned them could be a criminal, or not but might just want to take advantage of the huge chunk of meat, nature gracefully passed to him. Besides, here crime was instinctual. It came naturally just like a sense of smell, of feeling, that’s how eventually one who grew around these walls is forced to align himself with it. The pickpocketing was brewed by hunger and soon gradually, they were picking rifles, many would be killed off, imprisoned and few would escape and wax stronger. Turn out to be feared, respected and avoided. They become monsters like the ones responsible for my brother being in jail. They are the monsters hunger created.

“Yes I grew up here and I can confidently tell you, you won’t be leaving here unscathed after crossing this line,” I massaged my forehead, wondering what I was doing, what I was letting Law Tyler do. Nobody would realize that he wanted to come here willingly, and even though they did one way or the other there is no way I won’t suffer for a long time if a hair in his body falls to the ground.

“Il Mio Fiore di loto, are you scared for me?” I raised my brow at him even as he stared straight ahead on the road, not even batting his eyes at the underfed children at the side of the road, not minding the trailers flagged at both our sides, the uneven fences, crooked, short buildings with dirt littered in front of the house. He drove so much at ease like this was Beverly hills.

“You don’t know just how much you are worth, Il Mio Fiore di loto.” He chuckled amused even as he harshly exhaled, “You have no freaking idea.”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I didn’t mutter a word knowing that it was useless trying to make someone so set on getting hurt to see reasons why this moment was all shades of wrong.

He looked around him, “If you grew here then don’t you think I deserve to see the place that my home had called home all her life.” He smiled at me, “My daisies that grew among thorns and rock.”

I massaged my aching temple wondering if I’d been under a spell to indulge in his recklessness. He had the right to do foolish things like this, to be irresponsible and to feel the need to be stubborn and rebellious. I didn’t. I should have been more aware of how much of a crappy situation, it’d be if something happens to him. He was a 6ft something giant of court cases and us being sued for an amount of money I’m sure Mom has never come across all her life.

His dimples deepened even as I told him to stop the car, my eyes wide open in pure shock that we made it to the house without being stopped by some thugs but I knew we just got lucky. The more time, he spent here, the faster words could travel to ferocious thugs that a shiny new expensive-looking car was in their crib so I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt.

He held my hand.

“One date,” he cajoled.

I gape at him not believing that was the reason for him attempting something this dangerous.

“One date it is.” I caved, wiping a sheen of static heat off my forehead with the back of my hand regardless of how air-conditioned the car was.

“Just get back to Todo Santos unscathed,” I mumbled, scared to death, “I won’t just go on one date with you but Two.” Then I was opening his car door, alighting and waving him goodbye like we are best friends till his car was out of my sight.

Now it was either all the prayers Mom whined all the time were going to pay off or the Devil was chaperoning this particular event personally.

I dropped my backpack surprised at how I felt more tired than when I’d taken a bus back home from school to using a sleeky car and having a drop-dead gorgeous man as my own personal chauffeur. I knew that the nerves and fear, agitation too had everything to do with how drained and tired I was.

I heard sounds and jumped frightened. It was a mouse. I scrubbed my face with both my hands realizing how worried I was for Law. I was so screwed if something bad happen to him because of his obstinacy.

She was at home. I heard the sound of her machine. One which had featured so very well in our childhood. Her beautiful voice echoes even in the little room where myself and Rob will play, then she would stop momentarily to warn us to reduce the noise while Rob’s eyes and mine would shine bright in the dark, cheeky smiles and muffled giggle for a while then we are laughing loudly again.

Mom always says time ruined it all and I’ve never believed her more because with each passing year, as our understanding broadened and our innocence tainted there was less and less laughter until there was nothing. Just silence. I faced my books with absolute silence knowing that is my only way out of this trashy hood and although I made great memories here with Rob: sneaking out of the house at midnight wearing matching black hoodies and tying a bandana to look badass, and with the almost finished spray cans we have seen loitering around a day before. We imprinted our names on any available surface that our limited cans could cover, him setting an alarm for me to read for my exams and staying up with me, telling me ridiculous stories that he makes up, that cracks me up and keeps me from sleeping, yet I didn’t belong in this trashy place. Never had. Mom had given up her dream of making dresses because although it was bringing in money, we needed more and had taken in more jobs, scrubbed, washed, and waited tables. Rob had wanted to help.

I wanted to believe that was what had happened and in between finding out how to, he had gotten engulfed with drugs. Tried hiding his addiction problems and got into big problems trying to foot the bills of his newest high-maintenance habit and that had delivered him to the wrong gang, people and friends.

One thing was certain there has not been much laughing in this house and the wheels of that machine have not been turned since… The last time I met my mom at home when I got back from school which is Forever. I rushed towards her room.