Exodus of the Greenman

By Christopher Earl Pettitt

This story contains mature language

At the sound of the alarm clock Carrie carefully squirmed out from under the covers. She didn’t want to wake Allen if she could avoid it. Once she was up, she padded quietly around the small studio apartment. Trying not to trip over the piles of clothes and other crap that littered the floor, she picked out an outfit for her first day at her new job.

She paused a moment looking around, trying to figure out where her boots were. This place wouldn’t seem half so small if it were clean, she thought. She scanned the place from the dirty walls to the rank old mattress that she and Allen shared. She could see one of her boots at the foot of the mattress partially covered by a blanket. She thought it best to leave it for now. If Allen woke up there would be questions she didn’t want to answer. She looked to the head of the mattress, he was still sleeping soundly. His shaggy head, and scruffy face peaceful in slumber. Seeing him asleep like that filled her with a tender longing. She wished things could be the way they had been when she had first met Allen. She touched a pale green bruise on her left arm and remembered that she wasn’t with the same Allen. He turned a little and she snapped into awareness. She grabbed her clothes and darted into the bathroom.

She started the water in the shower and brushed her teeth while she waited for the shower to warm up. She looked at herself in the mirror. “How do you do it, Carrie? No matter where you go you’re someone’s dog to kick.” She thought of how first her step-father had beat her and worse how he touched her. Allen, ever since he met crystal meth and heroin, he had become a monster, even more violent that her step dad. She stuck her hand under the water, it was still cold.

“This damn thing’s slower than the second coming of Christ,” she whispered to herself, as she spoke she dribbled tooth paste down her chin onto the floor.

She hooked her thumbs into her underpants and pulled them off, then she pulled her top up over her head. She looked at her body in the mirror, her back and shoulders were a mosaic of bruises and tattoos. She traced her finger across each bruise, remembering what each had been for.

“One for cold food at dinner, two for drinking the last beer, three for wanting a job, and a dozen others because he’s a drugged out asshole.”

She remembered how it was when she had first met Allen. He was such a sweet guy. He took her in after she split from her parent’s house to get away from her abusive step-father. He took care of her when she didn’t have anywhere to go.

Now I have to sneak around like a scared animal. Just like home, she thought. Snapping out of her daydream, she stepped into the shower.

The water felt like it was coming out of a fire hose when it hit the bruises on her back. She scrubbed at them with a wash cloth, as if she could somehow wash them off and make the pain go away.

After carefully drying her cherry red dyed hair, she slipped into her clothes. Once dressed she inspected herself in the mirror. She had on a black and blue print sarong, a pair of black thermals, her favorite Alice In Chains T-shirt, and to top it all off she wore her mammoth black leather jacket. The jacket made her feel safe and secure, it was like armor for her. That jacket and her boots were the only important things she had taken when she left her parents.

She crept into the kitchen to forage for breakfast. The empty fridge and cupboards came as no great shock. She couldn’t believe that she had thought that there would magically be food in the apartment.

“Magic” she whispered, “that’s what I need.”

All she needed were her Doc Martens. Quietly, she walked over to the foot of the bed. She cautiously pulled the blanket back. Then, without a sound she grabbed her boots and crept back the way she had come. She decided it would be best to put them on outside.

As quiet as a thief, she opened the door, slipped outside, and closed it. Her feet instantly went numb in the December chill. She struggled to get her feet into her boots as quickly as possible, laced them up and she was off.

Carrie rushed through the park on her way to Darby’s Record shop. She hadn’t been this excited since she went to see Pennywise play at the Fulton last spring.

Her mind was racing from how well she knew she would do on her first day, to what she could do with the extra money. No more living off what Allen could hustle and steal and if she could stick it out with him for a few more weeks, she could get a place of her own. That is if Allen didn’t find out about the job or the money.