Sometimes I have to go on a little mission to collect. Dealing with people that are just asking for punishment is very disheartening. In the master bedroom of my Aunt Shelby’s apartment, I scanned the room and tsked to myself. On the floor, empty bottles lay smashed around a chipped plate with flies buzzing over a foul lump of meat. It did not look cooked. I saw a smelly, balled-up blanket with mysterious twigs and branches twisted within. It was stuffed underneath the corner desk. Something was moving inside . . . “Shelby,” I called, my voice echoing across the dimly lit room, “come out, come out, wherever you are.” My voice took on a singsong quality as I moved across the scratched hardwood floor. My combat boots only served to scuff it further, which made me smile. I found her shivering in the bathtub, a cigarette in one side of her mouth which had long since burned out. She was butt naked and huddled against the filthy tiles behind her. The hoops pierced through her erect nipples glistened against the light of the single ceiling bulb. I made soothing sounds and advanced on her sympathetically. My eyes flashed with the danger of a predatory she knew only too well. Reaching out, I pet the skin along her shoulder–right over the snake tattoo with a single cross on its back. “That won’t help you now,” I remarked. She shook and stared straight ahead, appearing unable to see me or acknowledge my presence. So I felt I had to help her. I reached down, took the cigarette from her mouth, and rubbed the butt in her face, scalding the skin and eliciting a piercing shriek of pain. “Hi Aunty Shelby, doll,” I beamed down at her bubbling skin. “So glad I got your attention . . . now you’re dead meat.”
Alice
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