'Christ! There must be some kind of collusion… you pigs protecting young hoodlums… and town drunks that assault people…'
'Mr. Belleson! You're getting abusive! I'd suggest that you stop, now! Otherwise, I could arrange for you to share a cell with Mr. Scott!'
The salesman looked at the sergeant in disbelief and backed away toward the door. 'Shit! I–I don't understand it… I come in here to report a r-robbery… and I get threatened with arrest! Christ! I wouldn't stay in the town for another minute!' He turned to flee. 'I take it you're dropping the charges against Gabby?'
'Do what you want with him! I'm leaving… and I'll make damned sure never to come back!' He leaped for the door and made his way hastily through it, flinging back over his shoulder, 'Fuck you! Fuck this whole Goddamned town!'
'Up yours!' the desk sergeant muttered, smiling to himself, as he watched the confused retreat of the salesman. '… And, please don't come back!'
What was she to do, then, with her life? She had passed by the morbid moment in which she had contemplated suicide. If she could not die… she must live, but living in this house, with her family, would be out of the question. It would be better if left… just drive away from it all!
Her solution was a cop-out; of course, taking her own life was but a manifestation of the same thing. Running away from her present life, was the only idea that pervaded her mind. She must get away… At least… if I'm gone… Charity and Donnie won't find out about me… And the life I've been leading!
Then, there was the incestuous sex act she had overheard. She had already decided that she could do nothing about it. No! There was one thing she could do; she owed it to Charity for her own protection, but not, she knew, for peace of mind… for either her or her daughter.
Her mind was made up, the sooner she left the better. With resolute steadfastness of purpose, dry-eyed, now, she began to dress. Afterward, she packed, selecting the best garments from her wardrobe and limiting herself to taking only two suitcases and her cosmetic case.
She took her small cache of money from her dresser drawer, counted it, counted it, again, to make sure. Twenty dollars was missing. Was the money lost… or stolen? A burglar would have taken all of it, and she was sure there was no way for it to become lost. Gabe? Possibly. Charity? A definite no, she decided. Donnie? The most likely! She knew instantly that it was unfair. She really had no way of knowing, and she dismissed it from her mind. Why should she try to find out which of her family was the thief? Taking the twenty dollar bill the salesman had left on the top of the dresser into her hand, she contemplated whether or not she really wanted it. Somehow, that particular bill was a symbol of evil, but was it any more evil than the other $240.00 she had just stuffed into her purse? It had all been earned in the same way! Oh, well… I might need it! Who knows which thorn hurts worst… when you fall into a clump of cactus?
One, final item remained for her to do. She forced herself to it, removing a piece of her ultra-feminine stationery from its box and taking pen in hand to write a letter… a letter of farewell to her daughter, Charity.
The letter finished, over which she had agonized for more than a half hour, she read it and decided that she would change nothing in it… for nothing could be changed. The letter — and her life, as she had lived it — would have to stand. She had told her daughter the brutal truth about herself!
I'll leave it on her pillow… where she'll be sure to find it!
The first streaks of grey dawn filtered into Charity's room as Dottie tiptoed in, not really expecting to find her lovely daughter there, but she was pleasantly surprised. Charity was asleep, beautiful as before, her lovely face serene, seemingly unchanged; however, as she gazed on the innocent face of her daughter, Dottie knew that the girl had just leaped into full-blown womanhood… in her own brother's bed!
Dear God forgive me…
She leaned over and brushed her lips in a light kiss across her daughter's slightly opened mouth. Placing the envelope on the pillow near the cascading auburn tresses, she left the room, hastily, picked up her suitcases and left by the front door.
As she turned the key in the ignition, there was a sudden catch in her throat. She had promised herself that she would not cry. God! I've shed enough tears! There're no more left! Steeling herself, she started the engine and drove away. She had no idea where she was going, but automatically, she turned eastward, into the rising sun, a dim thought in her mind that she would head toward Michigan, the state where she had been born and where she had spent her early childhood and adolescence.
Quickly, Charity stuffed her mother's letter under her pillow. No one must ever know of its existence! She would hide it… or destroy it, later. Jumping from her bed she ran into her parents' bedroom. She had to be sure! The room was in disarray, the closet almost empty and drawers left open. It was true! Her mother had really left!
Almost frantically, she dashed to the front door, flung it open and ran out onto the porch. Her mother's car was gone. The street was silent and empty. Then, her tears came. 'Mom… oh, Mom!' she cried, turning back to shuffle into the living room.
Donnie heard her cry of anguish, arose, slipped into his jeans and raced for the living room. He found his sister crumpled into the cushions of the couch.
'What's with, Char…? What's happening?'
'Mom… sh-she's left us…!' she sobbed.
He was incredulous. 'How do you know?'
'H-Her clothes a-are g-gone… and I–I heard her drive away…!'
'I'll be damned! She copped out first!' he mused.
He sat down beside her leaned down, put his arm around her and tried to console her. 'Don't flip… Sis… it's not…' he began.
'Don't touch m-me… damn it!' she snapped. 'Don't ever t-touch m-me… a-again!' Her voice was venomous.
'Christ… Char… I was only…'
'Get away from m-me…!'
'Whatever you say… Sis…'
He left her there and walked back to his own room.
Don Scott was really not disturbed very much. The fact of his mother's flight was, in his mind, ironic. She had just beat him to the punch. Shit! This family has been falling apart for a hell of a long time! But, Char and I… we could get along all right. She's practically all I've got, now… all the family I've got!
In his room, again, he dressed and came back out to the kitchen to forage for breakfast. He couldn't sleep any more now, even if he wanted to do so. His mind was busy with his own plans. The certainty of his thoughts centered around the fact that he, too, would have to leave soon… very soon! He doubted that he could live in the same house with Charity without trying to make her, again… and again. And, she's got an attack of conscience… telling me never to touch her, again. Well… that's not too much of a surprise. The idea of getting fucked by your brother is… pretty far out… for her… I guess. One thing… the next guy that gets into her is going to get a lighted firecracker! He'll know he's been somewhere when he crawls off of her!
He decided that he'd have to see Ray Donahue, and to do that he'd have to go to school, of course, he didn't have to stay there. He and Ray could split, go truant… maybe Ray could come up with some ideas for raising more bread. It was necessary he have some stake before he took off; a person couldn't go on the street with nothing in his jeans. He figured, roughly, that he should have a couple hundred dollars in addition to what he had taken from the salesman. It was Ray, he was sure, who could come up with some surefire possibilities.
His thoughts, again, went back to Charity, and the memory of her beautiful young body, as it writhed in uncontrolled passion under him, made his blood begin to run hot in his veins and his penis to come up hard and erect. Damn! I've got to figure a way to get her in the sack, again! She's the hottest little cunt I've ever seen or even heard about! Of course, it could've been the pot that turned her on so hard… but, Christ… I think she's just naturally hot… like Mom probably is! The grass! Man! That's it! I could get her to turn on with that… almost any time! I think she sort of flipped for it… and I'd bet she's not a one-time girl for that!
Charity came through the dining room headed for her bedroom. Don looked up, noted her tear-streaked and swollen face. He started to say something, thought better of it and asked, instead, 'You going to school, today,
