Broken Girl(37)

“You scared the shit out of me. Where have you been? What the fu—. Are you okay?” I asked as my problems vanished at the sight of her. Sybil looked like she had been run over by a bus. Her normally clear tawny eyes were dark and bloodshot. Vaulting her gaze between her hands and me, I could see she had dark arcs under her eyes, full moons of deep purple and black bruises circled both of her eye sockets.

“Ro, I just spent the last twenty-four hours fighting for my life. I don’t wanna get into it with you right now, okay?” she blasted as she rubbed her hands under the clear water streaming from the faucet. I watched as the water drained a light Kool-Aid red.

“Is that blood? What the f*ck is going on?”

I pushed the handle on the kitchen sink and clutched her by her biceps. Sybil and I were prostitutes without a pimp, renegades. That’s what they call us. But being renegades, we had to watch our backs constantly. She whimpered and winced at my grip.

Seeing Sybil f*cked up stirred within me the same fear and helplessness that pummeled me every time my mom flew off the handle and beat me. Feelings I’d buried and ran away from my whole life.

“It’s nothin’ Ro, I took care of it.” She pulled her arms out of my grip and spun to her bed, taking off her tattered shirt before she tossed it to the floor.

“Holy shit. Sybil, who the f*ck did this to you?” I asked as I carefully dragged my hands down her bony spine and across her hip. Clusters of fist-sized red and purple splotched bruises coated her back. Lengthy scratches, too many to count, the shape of fingernails webbed through her ribcage on either side of her backbone draining down behind the waistband of her skirt.

Sybil flinched as I pulled down her skirt and panties, exposing just the top of her ass. The scratches continued dragged down across a handful of more bruises.

“I can’t tell you, Ro. Please don’t make me say,” she mumbled in a shaky voice. Frozen from the pain or embarrassment, Sybil pulled her skirt and panties back up over her ass before she wrapped her hands across her bruised and broken body.

I grabbed one of the damp V-neck T-shirts from my bed and gently pulled it over her. Braless when she held up her hands she had just as many bruises across her chest and stomach. I watched her face as she helped me pull the shirt down. Grimacing at the pain, her puffy eyes almost swollen shut now, filled with tears, her lips, cracked and dry, bruised and inflamed, quivered as she tried to hold back her cry.

She knew I was going to find out who did this to her. It was a matter of time before I’d be able to figure out what miserable f*ck beat the shit out of her. Beyond all the bullshit, the stupid fight, the miscommunication and all the other crap, seeing Sybil like this bled deep in my heart. There was no way I was going to let any miserable f*ck get away with what they had done to her.

“Carl, right? It was that cock sucker Carl. He’d been after you for months—”

“No,” she whispered.

“Was it that *, Trey?”

Sybil shook her head. “No, it wasn’t Trey either.” She took a shaky breath, trying to collect what little energy she had left.

“Dax, right?”

Like a tire with a hole, her breath hissed as she began to deflate.

“It was! It was that piece of shit wannabe-pimp that did this to you, wasn’t it?”

Sybil’s nostrils flared as her breathing increased and her body started to shake. “Ro, don’t do anything. It’s over,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

“That motherf*cking, snot-nosed bastard,” I growled.

I was so pissed that if someone handed me a gun I’d wedge the barrel between that motherf*cker’s shitty gold capped teeth and pull the trigger. He was nothing more than a piece of shit, taking up air and space in this world.

Sybil’s body began to quake uncontrollably.

“Please, Ro, just let it rest . . . nothing can come of it.”

“Nothing? Are you f*cking kidding me Sybil? This motherf*cker’s gonna pay.”

“I . . . I . . . I . . . can’t stop shaking,” she whimpered before her body jerked. Her muscles surged rock hard as she lurched forward and uncontrollably yakked all over the floor. I ran to the dish drainer and grabbed a huge plastic bowl. Everything she had in her stomach had come up.

“Shhhh, settle down. I’m sorry, you’re safe now. Don’t worry,” I whispered as I wrapped the thin throw blanket from the end of my bed around her. “Sit down here. Come on now.”

I pulled the phone from my purse and started dialing the only person I knew could help her.

“Who are y-y-you c-c-c-calling?” Sybil pushed between dry heaving.

“Briggs.”

“Stop, don’t call him. I’ll be okay.”

“This isn’t normal, Sybil; you need to be seen and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“I’ll be fine. I just want to lie down.” She pulled the blanket tight over her chest.

“Sybil, you are not dying on my bed.”

“Ro, I don’t have the money to pay him. Please, I just need to lie down and close my eyes.”

What was I supposed to do? She looks like f*cking hell. I can’t let her stay like this.

“Don’t worry about the money,” I said as the phone was ringing against my ear.

“Aye, Rosie, this betta’ be an emergency,” Briggs barked fast and intentional, his Irish accent just thick enough to tell you he wasn’t born in America.