When I pulled into the driveway the house was dark and deceptively quiet.
"Thank fuck," I mumble in relief, glad for the absence of dad's car. Practice ran overtime today, and I just couldn't afford to leave early; coach wouldn't have liked that. It's six-forty by now and I'm just anxious to get inside, shove down some food, and hole up in my room for the evening.

Yes, I'm eighteen. I know I could technically leave whenever I wanted to, but I don't have a job, and even if I had a full-time job it still wouldn't be enough to get a place. I'd have to drop out of school just to work, not to mention find a roommate, so that's why I've put up with the abuse. I've done my time in the foster care system after mom initially lost custody. To put it plainly, I prefer dad's drunken fist compared to some of the shit I had to go through. I've thought about pressing assault charges on dad, but if I did, what would happen? Where would I live? I need a roof over my head. It's been a little over a year since mom started using again, so I've been with dad ever since. How I feel about it should be obvious; I'm depressed in all honesty, I mean, how would I not be? I can only hope that someday in the near future I'll be able to come home each night and feel safe for once.

I'm gonna make it one more year, and graduate. Gives me enough time to save some money for community college and find a roommate.

My lanyard is noisier than I'd like it to be as I fumble for the proper key and unlock the deadbolt. The heavy oak door swings open softly, and I catch the handle, shutting it behind me quietly.

The lights are all off, but I can see one upstairs and there's a soft glow coming from Dad's room. My stomach turns a bit, and I kick my shoes off, lining them neatly by the door as he likes, and dump my bag into my room. I pad my way quietly into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of orange juice, which I pound while I peruse through the fridge for something quick to eat. I spot some leftover pizza and snatch it up, using some paper towels in place of a plate, then top off my glass with more juice; this'll have to do. Before I left the kitchen though, I decided to poke into the pantry.

I knew I still had some Oreos left, so I grabbed what's remaining of the pack and piled my pizza on top, balancing the two as I took myself straight to my room.

My bedroom is my haven, and there's a relief that washes over me once I'm inside. Dad tends to only seek me out if he catches sight of me when he's drunk, so "out of sight, out of mind" is always the best plan of action. I find it a little strange he's not home yet, but I'm certainly not complaining. I've set my food down on my nightstand and fired up my computer when I hear a loud "thud" from upstairs. It makes me jump some, and I can hear some faint giggling.

Penny.

I grimace and take a bite of my pizza while I navigate Netflix. Another annoying giggle makes its way through the thin walls in this house, and it leaves me wishing I could sew her over-done lips shut.

Does that count as an intrusive thought?
I hate Penny, she's literally the worst.

I yawn and nestle myself under the covers, using the pack of Oreos and paper towel as a makeshift plate for my pizza. It's a weird combo, to be fair—most people eat their Oreos with a glass of milk, but we don't have any. Call me gross, but I don't find orange juice that awful with it.

I click around trying to decide what to binge tonight. I could always play Minecraft, I guess. After a few minutes I decide to switch to some shit on HBO instead; how about Generation Kill.

Crass, fucked up humor? Yeah, sounds like my cup of tea tonight. The sound of footsteps upstairs puts me on edge, but Penny's the only other person in this house right now and they don't sound like her either, so what gives? I didn't see another car out front.

I turn the volume down on my computer to eavesdrop better, and that's when I realize there's someone in the house I don't recognize. The man's voice is nowhere as deep as dad's—who the fuck?

Curiosity gets the best of me when I hear two pairs of feet coming down the stairs, so I decide against my better judgement, to check it out. I pause my show and slide out of my little nest, careful not to disturb my shitty teenage dinner. Stepping around the floorboards that creak loudest, I settle behind my door and lift the handle, taking the weight off the hinges so it won't squeak when I open it.
The conversation becomes more audible, and I crack the door just a bit more to hear clearly.

"When's he getting home?" The male voice asks, and I can hear him shifting his feet on the hardwood floors.

"Not for a few more hours probably, but you should leave now, just to be safe. You park down the street like I asked?" Penny responds.

Oh.

"Yeah, yeah Kitty, I'm not stupid. You don't gotta tell me twice, Jim's fuckin' nuts and your pussy isn't worth dying for." He pauses to laugh, and lights up a cigarette. "How much do I owe you?"

Ugh.

I force bag a retching noise and swallow my shock. I knew Penny was an awful bitch; and I thought I knew everything Penny's grubby little ass was up to, but apparently, she's been doing some deals on the downlow. This "Jim" guy has a death wish, and God help him if Dad ever finds out.

"Come by next Tuesday around four? He's supposed to be working late at the refinery again. I'll throw in a little something extra for ya, if you're willing to pay."

Cue more awkward laughter.

I cringe, wondering what type of lowlife would want Penny. She's just genuinely such an awful bitch, that I can't imagine anybody'd wanna stick their dick in her, let alone pay to do it. Then again, my dad does it all the time, and he fucks her for free. If Penny was a good and decent person, I'd tell her to charge a lot more than the price she's giving this asshole. But Penny's as abusive and toxic as it gets, that bitch can go fuck herself as far as I'm concerned. Case in point, I've got a healing scratch on my face that I'd blamed on the cat when people asked about it at school, but it wasn't the handiwork of my senior-tabby Gus, it was Penny's.

The sound of my phone ringing nearly brings my heart to stop—and the conversation between Penny and her John, or should I say Jim, hushes immediately. I hear a quick exchange between them, and the front door slamming when he leaves.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I scrambled to the bed, fumbling with my phone, and managed to mute the ringer just in time to see my bedroom door being flung open. Penny stands there, cash in hand. Her overly made-up face wearing an enraged expression, with that cheap pink satin robe tied loosely around her body.

"Get the fuck out!" I hiss, eyeing her cautiously.

"Eavesdropping, are we?" She snips, stepping into my room.

"Over-applying foundation, are we?" I retort, mimicking her nasally voice. Penny huffs with disbelief, but still checks her reflection in my mirror self-consciously.

"What did you hear?" She he growls venomously, stalking closer to my bed as she stuffs the money away.

"Depends on how much you're willing to pay me," I shrug, eyeing the cash she just tucked into her fake, sweaty tits. Her cheap, floral perfume makes me wrinkle my nose.

Ugh.

Penny raises a dark brow and settles on my bed, purposely leaving her legs draped apart, and the robe falls open. I make a point of grimacing visibly.

"You know I'd let you have this, for free. That is, if you stay quiet." She purrs, doing her best to try and seduce me. As if that seems realistic in her deranged mind. This isn't the first time Penny's tried to fuck me. She attempted this bullshit a few months ago the night after I turned 18, because my dad passed out drunk.

"Cash is fine," I state, crossing my arms with resolve.

Penny groans, shooting daggers at me from across the bed. "I worked hard for this!"

"Yeah I bet you did," I snicker, pretending to gag myself on a cock.

"Ungrateful little bastard!" She growls, throwing a twenty-dollar bill at me. I observe the outburst silently, plucking the bill off my sheets and dropping it onto the side-table as if it's filthy. "Pen-Pen," I scold obnoxiously. "It's gonna take more than a twenty."

She mutters a few more curses, glaring at me with those mascara-laden eyes as she counts out about fifty more dollars. "You better keep your goddamn mouth shut or I'll kill you myself!" She snaps.

"Now that's more like it." I smirk, snatching the cash from her claw-like fingers. Penny just eyes me, seething with hatred as she wraps the rubber band around the remaining cash, and covers herself up with the flimsy robe.

"Better get cleaned up before dad gets home." I laugh, waving her out dismissively. Penny narrows her eyes at me as she gets off the bed, stalking out my door like a dog with its tail between its legs.

I won this round.

"Nice doing business with you, come by anytime," I call after her in a sing-song voice, while a cruel grin flits across my face.

"Go fuck yourself Lucas!" She pouts, slamming the door behind her.

I chuckle, tossing the rest of the money onto my side table. Fuck Penny. If she wants me to lie for her, that bitch better pay. Dad won't just beat Penny if he finds out she's cheating, he'll beat me too to keep the secret. Penny's a cunt with zero loyalty—if she goes down, she's damn well gonna make sure I go down with her. She'd throw my ass under the bus out of pure spite. The way I see it, I should get paid for my troubles. My dad's an asshole anyway, and he deserves to get cheated on. After all he fucks Renee, our neighbor, at least twice a month when Penny's not around.

They're both trash people.

I slump against my wall and exhale irritably, then realizing I've been white knuckling my phone since Penny burst in. She was fucking loud, and loud noises scare Gus. I haven't seen him yet since I got home, which is unusual.
I mutter to myself and unlock my screen, only to find in horror that whoever called me is still on the other end of the line. They're not on speaker, but the line is open!

"Fuck," I mumble, hanging up quickly. I don't know this number and hope it was nobody important.

I silence my phone and toss it back on the bed, getting up to turn my bedroom lights off. I stripped out of my clothes down to my boxer briefs and nestled myself back under the covers before hitting play on Generation Kill again. I've stuffed more Oreos in my mouth, looking on as Iceman and Lt. Fick go over the training op they just conducted. Soon, though, my phone begins buzzing again. Frowning I look down at the lock-screen, realizing it's the same number I just hung up on.

Probably a fucking telemarketer.

I groan, lowering the volume on Generation Kill, and answer.
"I already hung up on you once, dumbass. Whatever it is you're selling I don't want it! Take me off your list, or whatever."

"Dumbass? That's awfully harsh. I gave you quite a break this morning, Lucas."

Oh, shit.