Repent (The Disciples 3)

“Mommy, are you okay?” I sniffle as tears spill from my eyes.

She pulls the sheet up to her chin and covers the man sleeping next to her.

“Baby, what the hell?” She looks past me at the door. “I told you never to come in unless I say so.” She glares.

My heart sinks, and I hiccup because I know, just know she forgot. “But I get an award today in my class. You promised you would remember.”

“Out. Get out, Dolores. I’ll write you a note saying you were sick.”

I stare at her bedroom—it’s littered with bottles and gross smells. Clothes are everywhere.

“But… I get an award today.” My eyes are blurry as I back up, tripping over a pair of black men’s boots.

“Goddamn it. Out! I swear to God, Dolores, stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

I try to stand. “Where’s Daddy?” I scream at her, suddenly mad. “Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m dumb!” Angrily, I wipe away the tears.

“You never do what the other kids’ moms do. They bring cupcakes and read books—”

“Shut the fuck up,” the man roars. “I thought you said your kid was good?” He sits up, his long beard at first hiding the fact that I’ve seen him before.

I shake my head, my long dark hair, which I brushed and brushed, hangs in my eyes. “You’re my daddy’s friend.” I point at him and turn to run. I wish I could run away forever.

“Oh shit.” My mommy groans and rubs her eyes. As she lunges for me, the sheet falls to the floor. The man says some bad words and slams the door to the bathroom.

All at once, I’m kicking at her and screaming for my daddy or Edge to help me. “Stop it.” She shakes me. “I’m sorry I forgot about the award thing.” She holds my arm tight and her breath smells bad, like cigarettes and other gross things.

“It stinks in here.” I try to pull away and go limp hoping she’ll let go. It works and she drops my arm, which hurts. I fall again.

My mommy straightens her shoulders and tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder. She glances around then looks at me.

“Go be a good girl and watch TV. Or better yet, go play with your friends.”

“That’s stupid. You’re stupid,” I yell. Her eyes open wide. “All my friends are at school. I need to go to school, Mommy.”

She reaches for some sweatpants and pulls on one of my daddy’s T-shirts. “Shut up and let me think.” She twirls around looking at the clock beside the bed.

“Fuck.” She starts to pull her hair up on top of her head. The toilet flushes and the ugly guy with the beard walks out.

“She ain’t gonna say shit, right? I didn’t get permission and I can’t have crap between me and the VP,” he snarls as he puts his knife and gun in his pants.

My mommy lights a weird-smelling cigarette and looks at me with a frown. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered your award.”

I wave my hand in front of my face trying to cover my nose. “You need to take me.”

“Christ, fucking mother of the year, Misty. No wonder Shark’s been missing.” He stares down at me as I glare back. I don’t like him. He doesn’t seem nice, and he’s talking mean to my mommy.

“Gunner…” My mom sets down the cigarette and slithers over to him. “We don’t mention his name.” She closes her eyes, then opens them and says, “It’s just a stupid award that all the kids get.”

He pats his pockets as if he’s missing something. “I can’t have crap. You said he wouldn’t find out. He’s my fucking VP. You need to keep her”—he points at me—“quiet.”

They both turn their eyes on me as I try to leave the room. “Dolly, wait.”

I turn at her sharp voice. She called me Dolly, the only name I respond to. She never uses it because my daddy gave it to me since he says I look like a beautiful doll, not a Dolores. Wiping the tears off my cheeks, I stare at her.

“I need you to pinky promise you ain’t gonna say anything about seeing Uncle Gunner being here to anyone.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s being a good friend to Mommy. Kind of like Edge and Jason are your friends.” She looks at me expectantly with her big brown eyes, which everyone says I have.

“I won’t. I pinky promise,” I whisper. A large, wet drop lands on my hand. I’m mad that I’m still crying and wish I could run away.

“I fucking hope so. Last thing I need is Shark being a dick… well, more of a dick.” He looks over at me, frowning. “Misty, your kid’s crying.”

“She’s a crybaby. She gets that from her father.” Mommy sits down on the edge of the mattress and laughs.