CHAPTER ONE
Ruby
I sink my canines into my bottom lip to keep from crying out loud and squeeze my tiny frame between the shower stall and the cold toilet, pleading with God, Santa Clause, hell Aunt fucking Jemima. Please don’t let Robbie break through the bathroom door. The new one had only been up for a week.
I fight to shake off the tedious thought.
There’s something seriously fucked up about the whole thing. I’m hiding to keep from getting my face bashed in, but my biggest worry is how much it’s going to cost to replace the damn door… again.
The haggard breaths die in my throat when I hear the heavy clomps of his work boots treading up the L-shaped staircase.
“You can’t hide in there all day, you crazy bitch!” Robbie yells and jiggles the doorknob like I’d just lay out a red carpet to make his grand entrance. When he finds out it’s not going to be that easy, he mumbles under his breath right before he slams something against the wood, most likely a fist or a boot, startling me enough to jerk. The motion sends my head careening into the side of the hard porcelain.
I bear down harder, and I taste blood, but I don’t dare move a muscle. Robbie is so predictable. He goes silent. Yep, like I’m too stupid to hear him breathing right outside the door. My quivering legs begin to cramp. The tiny little crevice isn’t much of a hiding place, but at least I won’t get pummeled if the coward decides to bust through the lock.
Like clockwork, he runs out of patience. He rams his hard boot into the wall one last time before his weighty shoes echo down the stairs. In a matter of seconds, the back door slams and rattles all the windows in the house. I listen, and on cue, I hear the rumble of his diesel engine as he guns it down the dirt driveway.
It takes a few minutes for me to feel safe enough to wedge my way out from the hiding hole. As I twist and stand up straight, my body screams out in pain. The knot on my head from the slamming into the toilet is throbbing against my aching skull. I’m scared to see how bad I look this time, but I bite the bullet and I draw in a deep breath before I spin to face the mirror.
The face isn’t too bad. A swollen bottom lip. A small gash drips crimson on my right cheekbone. I give a sigh of relief when I survey the damage and realize it’s not bad enough to need stitches, not that I would have gotten them anyway. I’d only taken a couple of hits to the face, so I knew it could have been worse. It had been worse. The jarring pain in my side indicates that the kick to my ribs had been a solid connect. I learned a long time ago not to try and run away. I’m quick, but Robbie is quicker. The only defense I’d ever had was to curl up in a ball and pray the blows don’t impact anything vital.
But this time is different.
Robbie had slipped up. He thought he had been caught.
It takes a real fuckwad to hit a woman, but an even bigger piece of shit to prance around like the prince of high, moral upstanding. He has everyone believing we are the perfect couple and he’s the perfect boyfriend.
A real charmer, that one.
He kisses cheeks and shakes hands, like a real, redneck politician.
So, when he heard the car approach the house, nearing the front porch, Robbie got spooked. He was worried he’d be caught in the act and everyone would know that he’s a woman beating pussy. He climbed off the bed where he had me pinned between his weight and his forearm to check outside. He rakes his hands through his messy hair and he straightens his wadded up t-shirt.
The next blow to my face would have certainly broken a bone.
Probably my nose. It’s bad enough that the damn thing will never be straight again. Oh, well. I’m not looking to be the next face of Cover Girl. Not with the broken nose and jagged scar running along my right eyebrow.
I look at the scar in my reflection and graze the pad of my trembling index finger over the dip in the smooth skin. That permanent souvenir is from taking the butt end of a remote to the face after I didn’t change the channel quick enough.
And then, it suddenly crumbles around me like a ton of bricks.
My heart hammers against my chest and the thuds echo in my ears.
It’s time.
*
The knobby tires bounce along the rough terrain of the etched out path through the swampy backland. In hindsight, maybe taking the country route wasn’t the best way to go. Whatever, no woulda-shoulda-couldas. Not now. Other than the mini heart attack when it takes five times to get the old car cranked, I make a clean getaway.
But that doesn’t do anything to resolve my worry. No, Robbie has eagle eyes all over this small town. The kind of small town where everyone is in everyone else’s business. I call it the ‘Bless her Heart’ society. Nosey old women sitting around cackling about anyone’s life but their own. “Oh, Ruby bough that generic toilet paper today. Her perky ass will be especially scratchy tomorrow. Bless her heart.” I can just imagine their well manicured hands flying up to their mouths while shaking their heads, sending gray curls swishing through the air.
Bless my fucking heart, indeed.
Now, as my ass bounces with each bump, I glance in my rearview mirror. The sight of the heap of white rolls of cheap toilet paper jiggling around in the back seat has me giggling out loud. Bless his heart… and his bowels.
I hope that fucker chokes on the spoiled pot of gumbo I put in the fridge and I hope it gives him the screaming shits. I fight the urge to holler out, shouting a girly woo-hoo at the top of my lungs.
Freedom.
I’m in charge.
My own boss.
And just to remind me of how wrong I truly am, a massive hog breaks out from the brush and scampers across the loose gravel. I hurl all my weight onto the brake pedal and lift my body up from the torn seat cushion.
“God dammit.”
The swine is easily one hundred and fifty pounds and he stops right in the middle of the road, pivoting his porky-pig head to stare at me as if I’d just wiped my ass on the welcome mat outside his straw house before he finally waddles away.
Fine, I get it, universe. You’re in charge.
Sighing, I pull in a heavy lungful of damp, night air and twist the key sticking out of the ignition.
Grrrrr… Nothing but a powerless growl.
Giving the VW Thing a loving pat on the peeling dash, I try to sweet talk her. “Come on, Ellie Mae. Surely, you’ve got more than eighty miles in ya. It’s just you and me. Freedom. The open road. Come on, girl. You, me, and a shit ton of snakes.”
Muah!
I blow her a kiss for good karma and give the key another flip.
Grrrr… Grrrr… Grrrr…
“You bitch!” I give Ellie Mae a solid boot to the floor and rest my head against the wobbly cushion. I’m seriously kicking my own ass for not taking the time to put the top on Ellie Mae. If I’m gonna be stuck in the middle of the bayou overnight, it would be nice to have some kind of barrier between my flesh and the slithering predators. They’re out there, just waiting, all camouflaged and ready to strike.
A visible shudder ripples through me. I’m not scared of much this side of hell. But a snake? Those fuckers can die a slow, dead death.
Yeah, that.
I can feel their beady, little eyes on me right this very minute. Damn, now I can’t shake the thought. Only it’s not some phobia stuck in my brain. It’s the real deal.
Something has me locked in their sights.