"Don't smoke in the house," his mother snapped as she came through the front door, dressed in her Sunday best.
Christian arched a thin red brow over a bruised eye. "Make me put it out," he challenged as he took a drag, staring defiantly into her green eyes.
She glared at him and dropped her bag of groceries on the floor. "Your father will take it out of your hide when he gets back."
"I just bet he will," Christian retorted. "He definitely won't take it out of yours."
Perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut but he never had been one to listen to anyone, even himself. His mother stalked over to him and raised her hand, slapping him hard across the face.
Disgusting little whore ...
Not his thoughts. His mother's. He slanted his eyes up to meet hers. "Calling the kettle black, mother? If I'm a whore, so are you."
She took a step back, green eyes narrowing in fear. "Devil spawn," she hissed. "No wonder why he goes to your bed."
Christian laughed bitterly as he picked the ragged stick of nicotine out of his mouth and dropped it on the floor. "Must be missing something in yours," he said bitterly as he got to his feet and shoved past her. "You can have the bastard back. I certainly never wanted him."
She glared at him. "I should have left you on the street the moment you were born."
"Love you too," he told her with a mocking smile.
For one moment she was able to meet his gaze but then she had to look away. With a soft laugh Christian headed up to his room, slamming the door shut. He turned his stereo on and popped in a bass heavy rock CD, putting it as loud as he could stand it. The volume made his ears hurt and the glass in the window shake in its frame but he didn't care. Throwing himself on the bed he flung an arm over his eyes and tried to ignore the headache in his head that was pounding out a counter rhythm to the music.
For a time, all that existed was the music that chased away the voices in his head. Then a weight pressed down on his bed and he moved his arm, staring dispassionately at the drunk figure of his father sitting beside him. "What do you want?" he hissed even though he knew very well what he wanted.
Christian doubted he heard him. He never did. He just reached for him, brown eyes blood shot and glazed over from too much liquor. Christian attempted to move away from him but a fist slammed into his gut and drove the air out of his lungs. With a choked gasp he curled around the pain, rolling to his side. Then a heavy body was pressing down on top of his and blunt fingers were forcing his head up.
"Don't ever fucking tell me no, got it?" his father slurred angrily, one hand already undoing the button on Christian's jeans.
The red head nodded. "Ja," he whispered in a shaky voice.
And like all the times before he let his mind drift away from what was happening. His body was a puppet with knotted strings and he let his father do what he wanted. It had always been easier to just give in to him instead of fighting. Fighting meant pain and he hated pain. Lying there on his bed, glassy green eyes staring up at the white ceiling and seeing nothing as his father fucked him, he let the pain of sex drag him into oblivion like it always did, with his father's mind whispering obscenities into his.
Liebe poured him another shot of vodka. His ninth. Or maybe it was his tenth? He didn't know. He'd lost track after they had finished off the tequila bottle and were now making in roads on the vodka. Liebe was sitting across from him at the bar counter. He was standing.
"Sunday fucked you again, didn't he?" she asked casually.
Schuldich rolled his eyes. "That obvious?"
She smirked. "You're not sitting down, are you?"
"I don't want to," he muttered into his drink.
"Figured you wouldn't."
They were at the club again, like always. She was dressed in a leather dress and red lipstick, blond hair falling over one shoulder. He was in baggy jeans and a long sleeved shirt, his red hair uncombed and falling over his black eye. Liebe set down her shot glass and rested her elbow on the bar counters. "You look tired," she said.
"Mind your own damn business," he growled.
She shrugged. "If you want me to."
Schuldich stared moodily down at his drink. With a grimace he downed the bitter liquid and wiped his lips on his sleeve. "Anyone here for you tonight?" he asked.
"None with any good shit. No one you'd want to trade for. Trust me on that," Liebe told him. "Why? You hearing voices again?"
He gave her a bitter smile. "I always hear voices, Liebe. They never go away."
She nodded and put a cigarette to her lips and lit it. Offering him one from her pack he took it and lit it off of hers. "My poor crazy red head. What will I do with you?" she mused.
"Watch me die, just like you watch everyone else die," he retorted.
She nodded slowly, blue-gray eyes empty. "Mind if I join you on that journey to hell?"
"There's room for all of us. My mother seems to think I'm the devil incarnate. I can lead us all to hell," he told her with a wide, empty smile.
Liebe threw back her head and laughed. "I just bet you can, Schuldich. I just bet you can."
He reached into his pocket and fingered the last bill there. With a sigh he drew it out and stared down at it. "Not enough for anything, much less the silence," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
Liebe took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew out the smoke, crushing it out on the countertop. "You that desperate?"
He clenched his hand into a fist and pocketed the money. "For the silence," he told her. "But you already know that."
Liebe nodded and slid off the stool. "You willing to take my jobs tonight?"
He eyed her. "For what?"
"Two lines. Almost as good as a shot."
Schuldich pondered this for a moment but they both knew what his answer would be. "Deal," he said.
"Then come on. I'll take you to your first customer."
"Why tonight?" he asked her as she led him into the main part of the club.
"That time of the month."
"Give me three fourths of the cut and I'll make sure you get your lines," Liebe promised him.
Schuldich nodded. "No problem. I know the drill."
She smiled mockingly at him. "I just bet you do."
He ignored her and shoved her forward. "Move," he snapped.
Like he had said, he'd do anything for the silence.
Part 3 | Fanfiction