Quinn
The cold wind whipped my hair around my face as I slipped my coat on. Folding my arms across my chest, I tried to keep warm. With my head down, I walked quickly through the dark streets of Westwood, New Jersey. I had lived here for as long as I could remember, and up until a year ago, I'd pretty much had the perfect life.
When I was sixteen, Mom had met Evan. They’d had a whirlwind romance, falling in love and marrying after six weeks. Up until then it had just been me and her. I’d never known my dad but had never felt like I had missed out. Mom had been both parents, working long hours as a waitress in an all-day diner in town to provide us with everything we needed. Once Evan had moved in, Mom still worked, but not the twelve-hour shifts she used to do. Things were good, Evan seemed like a nice guy and my mom adored him.
A year after they’d met, everything turned to shit. My mom had lived with diabetes pretty much all of her adult life. Although she managed it well, it took a toll on her body and her kidneys began to fail. She had dialysis for almost a year before the doctors mentioned a transplant. Desperate to help her, I asked if I could give her a kidney. She wouldn’t let me; wouldn’t even discuss it with me. I was so angry. I begged her to let me help, but she refused. For months, I watched her suffer while she waited for a match on the transplant list. When the dialysis stopped working she was forced to let me try to help her, and six months ago I'd given her one of my kidneys. She never made it through the operation and died in the hospital, her heart giving out under the strain.
Her death had come as a huge shock and I had never felt so alone. I had an okay relationship with Evan, but I didn’t really know him that well. Before the operation, Mom had begged Evan to look after me if anything ever happened to her. No one thought for one minute that he would ever need to. Evan was really all I had left. I had lost contact with a lot of my friends, spending every spare minute I could with my mom. Her parents had disowned her when she got pregnant with me at seventeen. Until Evan had shown up, we’d pretty much been on our own. Knowing I had no family at all made my heart hurt.
Evan’s reaction to Mom’s death was to become moody and argumentative whenever he was home. He was drinking heavily too and would yell at me if I hadn’t done his laundry or tidied the house. He’d hit me twice after heavy sessions of drinking, and a few weeks ago he’d thrown me so hard against a wall, I swear I’d broken ribs. I was in agony for weeks and it still hurt now when I sneezed or coughed. After that, I tried to stay away from him as much as possible. The house was small though, and he was hard to avoid. I spent most of my time in my room, but it was fairly obvious that I was an inconvenience to him.
Although we’d lived in the same house for almost all my life, Mom hadn’t owned the house, she'd rented it off an elderly couple who lived down the street. Once Mom and Evan married, his name was put on the lease and he began to pay the rent. I guess he considered it his home now, and I was just someone who happened to live there.
A month or so after we’d buried my mom, strange men started turning up at the house to see Evan. I wouldn’t go as far as to call them Evan’s friends—there was always shouting and arguing when they came around. They never stayed long, and more often than not Evan would get a beating off them. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew it couldn’t be anything good. I always tried to stay in my room on the nights they showed up, but sometimes I would be downstairs when they knocked at the door. They made me feel uncomfortable with the way they would look at me. Once, I heard one of the men asking Evan how old I was, and if he wanted to use me. I wasn’t sure what he had meant, but thankfully Evan had said no.
I’d become a bit of a recluse since Mom had died, only leaving the house to go to school and to do the grocery shopping. Evan didn’t like me to go out much, but he would give me a small allowance to buy food. I was careful with the shopping, managing to save a bit of the money he gave me each week which I kept hidden in a box under my bed.
School was hard. I’d become the girl whose mom had died. My clothes were old and shabby and the kids at school were cruel. Even my friends from before had slowly backed away, not wanting to be associated with me. I was lonely and missed my mom terribly.
Shivering, I walked a little faster as I thought back to what had happened last week.
Evan had been out, and I was in the kitchen fixing a drink. I’d heard the door knock and when I swung it open, two of the guys who kept visiting Evan were standing there. Though I tried to shut the door, they pushed me back, forcing their way in. I stumbled backward falling on my ass. I heard one of them laugh.
“We’re not here for you, princess; not yet anyway,” he mumbled, looking me up and down. Standing up, I tugged my t-shirt down, wishing I was wearing more than just my sleep shorts and a tank. “Where’s Daddy?” he asked with a smirk. I put my hands on my hips and glared at him.
“Evan is not my father, and I have no idea where he is,” I exclaimed.
“We’ve got ourselves a fiery one here, Den. Think the boss is going to love her,” one of them said, giving me a smile that made me recoil.
“What do you want?” I asked, nerves bubbling in my stomach as I replayed his comment over and over in my head.
“Just what we’re owed, sweetheart. Mind if we wait?” They didn’t pause for me to reply, walking past me and taking a seat in the living room.
“I’m just going to my room,” I said nervously, backing away from them.
“Sit!” one of them shouted, and I jumped, rushing to sit down, my hands twisting nervously in my lap. We sat in uncomfortable silence for about half an hour before I heard the door open, breathing a sigh of relief when Evan walked in. His eyes went wide as he saw me sitting with his “friends.”
“What’s going on?” he slurred, looking from me to the two huge guys sitting on the couch.
“Have you got the money, Evan?” Den asked him, standing up from the couch and stalking toward him. Suddenly sobering up, Evan turned to me and flicked his head.
“Upstairs, Quinn,” he barked, and I shot off the couch, not needing to be told twice to leave. I lowered my head, not making eye contact with anyone as I slipped out of the room. Making my way to the stairs, I paused at the foot of the stairs, listening to their conversation.
“I don’t have it, man. I need more time,” Evan begged, his voice strained.
“You’ve had time. Plenty of time. Why should we give you more?” Den asked him, his voice strangely calm.
“I can get the money, I swear. Look, I just need one more week.” His voice was pleading, and anxiety rushed through me. I’d never heard him like this before. Whatever mess he’d gotten himself into was serious. He was in trouble. The room fell silent, and I strained to hear the rest of the conversation.
“You’ve got seven days. Last chance, Evan, else we take the girl,” Den told him. I felt my knees buckle at his words and my breathing became labored. Evan obviously didn’t have the money to pay them. How was he going to get it in seven days? I heard the door to the living room open and the two men walked out followed by Evan. I couldn’t make my legs move, and I was paralyzed to the spot as all three turned to look at me in the hallway. The guy whose name I didn’t know grinned at me, an evil glint in his dark eyes.
“I’ve got a feeling we’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,” he said, before laughing and heading for the door. Den followed without saying a word. As the door swung shut behind them I dropped to the floor.
“Evan, what’s going on?” I whispered, lifting my eyes to his. I shrank back when I saw the look on his face.
“Why did you open the fucking door, Quinn?” he growled, taking a step toward me.
“I… I,” I stuttered, taken aback by his tone.
“I told you to never open the door! Now look what you’ve gone and done. They’ll be back, and I don’t have the money to pay them!” he yelled, dragging me up off the floor by my hair. He slapped me around the face and I gasped, my hand flying to my burning cheek. My lip began to sting from where his ring must have caught me, and I tasted blood. My eyes were wide and scared. Something was different with him; his eyes held an evilness I’d never seen before. I winced as he pulled harder on my hair, slamming my head against the wall. “It’s your fault I’m in this mess. I guess it’s only right I use you as payment… you’re my way out of this shit,” he sneered. I tried to shake my head, but his hand was gripping my hair too tightly.
“What’s my fault?” I asked him in a shaky voice, my head spinning as a sick feeling formed in the pit of my stomach.
“Who do you think paid for your mom’s medical bills? And yours for that matter. Do you really think the lousy insurance would cover the months of dialysis and both surgeries?” he spat out.
“What?” I asked, not taking in what he was saying. “The insurance didn’t cover Mom’s medical bills?”
“No, you stupid bitch! I had to borrow the money. No bank was going to lend me any, so I had to go to those scum… now they want their money, or you. I don’t have the money, Quinn, but I do have you.”
“No, please,” I whimpered.
“There’s no other way,” he said, his voice showing no remorse. My head was pounding from where he had slammed it into the wall, and I couldn’t think straight. “Where’s your phone?” he asked, pulling on my hair again. When I didn’t answer he dragged me upstairs, my legs stumbling up the steps in an attempt to keep up with him.
“Evan, please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. Ignoring me, he opened my bedroom door, throwing me inside. I crashed into the dresser before landing heavily on the wooden floor; wincing as pain shot up my side. I saw him looking around, his eyes falling on my phone on the nightstand. He crossed the room and snatched it up.
“Don’t move,” he growled at me as he stalked out of the room, my door closing behind him. Shocked by what had just happened, I remained sitting on the floor, sobbing as I rubbed my sore cheek. I contemplated standing up to go sit on the bed, but he’d told me not to move, and I was too terrified to disobey him. Within a few minutes I heard footsteps in the hall. I scooted backward against the bed in a futile attempt to try to protect myself. The door didn’t open though. I just heard a key turn in the lock on the door before hearing him walk away. Seeing red, I scrambled up from where I was cowering, ignoring the pain that ripped through my side.
“You can’t lock me in here!” I screamed, banging my fists on the door. “Let me out, Evan!” I hammered on the door until my hands were throbbing. Realizing he wasn’t going to return, I accepted defeat and sat on the edge of the bed. It was then I knew I had to try to get away. Those guys were returning in seven days. I didn’t want to be here when they did.
I hardly saw Evan the next few days. He’d bring me food when he remembered, and fortunately I had a bathroom off my bedroom. He was out most of the time which meant I had time to try to pick the lock. Initially, I’d thought I might be able to climb through the window, but he’d returned to my room a few hours after first locking me in and locked the window as well. I was trapped and terrified the men would come back before I was able to get away. I packed as much as I could carry in my backpack and hid it in the closet. Digging under my bed, I reached for the box that held any spare cash I had managed to save from the grocery shopping money. I quickly counted it and sighed. Although I had been saving for a while, the two hundred and fifty-eight dollars I had wouldn’t last me long. I’d manage though, as long as I was away from here. With no friends and only memories of my mom, I had nothing to keep me here. I was going to go as far away from here as I could get.
So here I was, sitting in the bus station in Westwood. My leg bounced up and down as I scanned the building, praying that Evan hadn’t returned home and found I’d gone. I’d paid for a ticket to New York City. From there I planned to catch a bus to Marble Falls
in Texas. I’d had a friend in fourth grade who had moved to Westwood from Marble Falls. It had sounded like a great place to live, and it seemed as good a place as any to escape to. I could only hope and pray that it would be far enough from my stepfather and that I’d never have to see him or those men again.