Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
A man wearing a belt of water bottles filled with various fluids rocked in a shadowed nook. He spoke to an emaciated cat as he tended to a small fire built between four bricks. Something cooked within the coffee can resting above the flame. He paid her no mind and she reciprocated in kind.
Sallow eyes followed her. Dirty faces turned as she made her way deeper into the belly of the abandoned mill. The scent of rotting life and urine forced her to breathe through her mouth. The farther Scout traveled, the darker her surroundings became. Boards covered windows, showing only the tiniest slice of light. Occasionally, a broken windowpane permitted a burst of light, a beam no wider than a finger width, but it was too dim to depend on. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Needles and crack pipes marked the way to the more populated quarters. Recognizing the familiar ductwork at the entrance of a long passage, a sense of unpleasant nostalgia filled her. Home.
The stench of fecal matter made her eyes water. The glow of a flickering flame bounced like a strobe past the last door in the vacant hall. The quiet mumblings echoed like a child playing alone, whispering over dolls or imaginary friends. Scout entered the chamber.
Pearl sat huddled on a flattened cardboard box sorting through a torn plastic bag filled with crushed cans. Quiet, incoherent words whispered past her cracked lips as she took inventory of her treasures. A sharp sadness had Scout swallowing hard. Pearl’s gaunt, jaundiced flesh hung off of her protruding cheekbones. It had become almost impossible to equate the pretty woman from Scout’s childhood memories with the woman crouching before her now.
“Momma?” Pearl hugged her belongings defensively and scowled at her. It hurt, waiting for her mother to recognize her. “Momma, it’s me.”
“Scout?” Pearl grinned, cracked lips stretching over gray gums. “Oh, you should see all the goods I scouted out today. Traded a can of fruit for this here sock. What you got for me, Scout?”
Scout reached into her bag and pulled out a small jug of milk, a half pound of sliced turkey, a handful of bananas, and four cans of stew. Pearl cooed and greedily took the bounty.
“Good, good,” she mumbled as she eyed the door and quickly stowed the food out of sight, keeping a banana and peeling it back.
Scout sat on the edge of her mother’s pallet and rifled through her bag. “I also got you these, Momma.” She dropped a collection of half-used shampoos and bars of soap from Patras.
She picked up a bottle and frowned. “What is it?”
“Soap.”
Pearl tucked it away in the corner and continued to eat her banana, quietly singing over each bite.
“I’m going to bring you more stuff tomorrow. Do you need anything specific?”
“I need a hit.”
Scout sighed. The life of a heroin addict was a never-ending cycle of scavenging for that next fix and strategizing ways to secure it. Finishing the banana, Pearl tossed the skin into a pile of odorous compost in the corner. Flies and maggots terrorized the new addition.
“How much do you have left?” Scout asked wearily.
“A bit. Hank’ll be back tomorrow. I can get some from him.”
“Don’t do that, Momma. I’ll give you the money.”
There was no use not giving her the money for a fix. Pearl couldn’t make it more than a few days without it and she’d do anything to get it. Anything. Scout’s lectures about sharing needles and sexual favors had fallen on deaf ears, and Hep C was the only competition heroin had in the race to end her mother’s life. Her gaze purposefully avoided the slavered candle in the corner next to the filthy spoon.
“I gotta go, Momma.” Pearl never asked about her job or where she got her money. She was too far gone in a world of her own. “It’s almost dark.”
“How come you don’t bring your friend?”
“Parker’s at the shelter.”
“He treatin’ you good?”
“You know it isn’t like that between Parker and me, Momma.”
She gave her a look of skepticism. “He reminds me of your daddy. You bring him back here with you next time.”
“I will.”
Scout nodded and wearily stood. Some days it was so hard not to take her mother into her arms and hug her the way she used to. It’d been years since Pearl let her touch her like that, like a daughter. It was for the best, considering her health.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night, Momma.”
Leaving the mill, Scout’s energy abandoned her. Streetlights flickered above as she slowly headed back to the shelter. Her cold fingers shook and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her hair as the bitter wind snuck down the collar of her shirt. Thoughts of the day played through her mind and she tried not to worry about what would come tomorrow. Scout still wasn’t sure if she had a job to return to in the morning.