The Past and the Present

Warning: This story mentions physical violence, mentions of alcohol, and alluding to past child abuse!

All I wanted was one drink, just one, but no, why would that be possible without everyone ramming into each other and blaming it on everyone else? I trudge through the alley, tired of everything. I don’t even know why I walked into that bar, I have never drank, and honestly don’t want to. Why did I want to finally try it anyway?

I start to wish I had parked closer, but then my truck is finally in sight. Better a longer walk then right next to the bar where people would either spill beer, puke, or pee on it.

A shadow darts out of the alley in front of me. Maybe a very large dog? I can’t deal with anything right now, let alone some random loose dog that's gonna bark and chase me down. But last I checked, dogs don’t stand on two feet. And they definitely don’t wear dirty faded pink dresses or have brown hair. That's not a dog. Or it is and someone has some sick twisted sense of humor.

Before I can process what's happening. A small girl runs into me, gripping my leg like her life depends on it. It takes a moment, but my brain finally catches up, and all it does is panic. I do not like children, I never want children, so why has this child decided that I am the person to run to?

“Umm, hey? Are you okay?” Her face rubs against my leg as she shakes her head no. Well that's just great. I gently tried to pry her off, who knew a child could have the strength of a body builder.

“Sasha!” A voice shouts, the voice of a man who should not have children.

My hand shakes, and I can’t tell if it’s from me or the child underneath it. “Sasha, come ‘ere now!” The man stalks towards us, or well, he would, except he seems to be drunk, so instead he stumbles.

“She a spookish little thang,” he grunts. “Always runin off at the smallest things.” The girl’s grip tightens at his drunken laugh.

He reaches for her, my jaw tightens, and before I know it, his wrist is in my grasp, his hand mere inches from her. His eyes widen and he rips out of my grip, stumbling back as I release him.

“That’s my daughter, han’ dher over,” he growls. Sasha whimpers, shuffling to hide behind me.

“Come here now!” He booms.

“I don’t think she wants to go with you.” I’m shocked when my voice comes out calm and level.

He scoffs, his breath reeks of alcohol, “What was that?!”

“She doesn’t want to go with you.” I ground out.

“Doesn’t matter what she wants. Wha matters are she comes with me. Now!” He demands, spittle flying. And when he tries to snatch her from behind me, my first instinct is to plant myself more firmly before her, blocking her frail body with my own.

“Give her to me!”

“Do you want to go with your dad?” I ask, tilting my head down to her, but he never leaves the corner of my eye. Especially when he puffs himself up like he won a fight.

Her fear filled blue eyes darted between the man and me, “No,” her quiet voice quaked. It’s hard to hear over the noise of the bar down the street. “He’s not my dad, he took me.”

“Liar! Her mother left her to me! She’s mine! Now give her to me!”

I don’t even think, all I know is that my fist burns and the man is suddenly sprawled on his back, looking like a cat sun bathing. Except cats actually take care of themselves and don’t spend their entire life savings on getting drunk.

With how drunk he is and how hard I hit, he will have a nice long nap, hopefully with a lump and nasty blue bruise in the morning.

The girl tugs at my pants, bringing me back from my rage fueled act. I crouch down to her height; she may not like men after whatever terrible things that man put her through.

“Are you alright? Do you know where your mom and dad are?”

“My mom is dead, and I don’t know my dad.” Well that got sad fast.

“We can go down to the police-” Her head quickly shakes.

"Can I stay with you? Please?"

I don't know why I even bother, "Of course." I am no doubt going to regret this in about five seconds.

"You can stay for tonight, but tomorrow we should go talk to the police and see if they know anything about any family members you may have. Okay?"

Her little head bops, and so does her mop of brown hair, the man may have smelled like he hadn't showered in a while, but she looks like she hasn't showered in even longer.

She hops in the car, definitely needs a booster seat. No, what am I thinking, I am not keeping her. That would be kidnapping. She probably has some family somewhere that can take her in. Anywhere is better than some random guy living alone in a two-bedroom apartment. That just screams creepy killer guy.

We make it to my house, and she just stands in the doorway. "You can come in, its not a lot, but it's yours. For the night at least."

"It's amazing," she whispers, taking a step inside, looking around with wide eyed wonder. Where did she live before that would make her think this is amazing.

"The bathroom is there." Her head quickly swivels to the right. "Theres's shampoo, conditioner, and there should be an extra toothbrush in there that you can use."

Clothes. The word pops into my head with utter mortification. Maybe, I can call her, we haven't talked in months but.

The girl scurries into the bathroom but pauses once inside. Slowly, she turns to me, head angled down. "Can I close the door?" she whispers. She has to ask to close the door, and she looks terrified asking.

"You don't have to ask that, of course you can." A small smile flickers for just a moment, and then the door shuts, and locks. I collapse onto the small couch.

My phone is cold in my hand. It looms before me. I haven't talked to Heather in months, not after she stormed out. But I need her help right now. It rings three times before she answers.

"Jacob? What do you want? You know what? Unless you've at least talked to a therapist, I don't want to hear whatever you have to say." The sound of running water fills the gap.

"Have you seen a therapist?" She asks, her voice hopeful, or maybe it's just my imagination.

I sigh, "No, not yet. Please don't hang up," I rushed out. "Please, I need your help," I pleaded.

She's silent, did she hang up? "Please still be there."

"What do you want?"

"I have a kid."

"WHAT!" I jerk the phone away.

"Not what I meant! She's not mine, I found her. Well, she kind of found me. Some guy was trying to take her, and I ended up taking her home with me because she didn't want to go to the police station," I sigh. "I need your help, I need clothes for her, and I would let her wear mine, but she's so small, and I don't know if she'd be okay with that," I trail off, unsure of what to say.

The shower continues to pour.

"I'll be here in ten- no, five minutes." The phone clicks then is silent.

Tension I didn't know I was holding releases from my body, sinking into the couch feels like a dream. I wish it would swallow me whole so I wouldn't have to deal with this mess I put myself into. Silence jerks me upright. The shower stopped. Heather isn't here, yet, and the girl stopped showering.

The toilet flushing is the next sound I hear, followed by the sink. I wait with bated breath once it's quiet again. But the shower just turns right back on. Who knew all girls took super long showers. I thought it was just Heather.

The front door creaks open and I burst up, blood pumping. "You need to remember to lock your door, anyone could just come in at any given moment."

Heather stands in the doorway with a tote bag in hand. Her brown hair flows lazily over her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes bore into my soul. The door clicks shut behind her as she makes a point to lock it dramatically.

She looks around, her hair flicking with her. "Where's the girl?"

I shake my head. She doesn't want to be with you anymore, idiot. Stop staring at her like some lovesick middle schooler.

"She's still in the bathroom showering. Takes forever like you do." Chocolate eyes glare at me, but there's no real menace behind them, I should know after all.

"I'd ask what happened, but I think it would result in me being an accomplice to some crime."

The tote is tossed to the floor, that's when I notice she's dressed in her pajamas. "Were you sleeping?"

"No, I was having a slumber party by myself," sarcasm drips off her tongue like honey.

"Umm, excuse me?" Sasha's voice drifts towards us, snapping my attention to the child. She's dressed back into her dirty dress.

Heather picks up the bag, crouching in front of the girl. "My name's Heather, I'm a friend of Jacob over there." Her thumb jerks towards me, making me feal like a complete jerk. I never told her my name.

"What's your name?"

"Sasha," she whispers.

"Well Sasha, I have some clean clothes for you to try on. You can even keep them if you want."

She looks down at her dress, "But I like this dress, my momma gave it to me."

Heather nods, "It's a lovely dress, and you can keep it. But we should clean it first, that way it's nice and fresh for next time, okay?"

Sasha looks at Heather, then back to the dress, before looking at me. Heather notices, because of course she does. "What do you think Jacob, should we wash it?"

Oh. "I think so. Once it's done you can wear it again. I promise." Heather's eyes widen a little and her brows go up. But she quickly turns her attention back to Sasha, who, begrudgingly, nods her head.

Once the bathroom door is shut with Sasha behind it changing, Heather gives me a mocking look. "What?"

"I promise, since when were you so good with kids?"

"I'm not!"

"Well, that's obvious," she spins her hand through the air. "What I meant was, since when were you the type of guy to take a kid in and immediately call her your own."

"What do you mean?"

"Would the old Jacob have helped the kid, sure." She crosses her arms, "But he would have taken her to the police or hospital, not taken her home and let her use his shower and toothbrush. The old Jacob swore to never have children so long as he lived." She stares at me expectantly.

"It's just for the night. I'll take her in tomorrow."

Her eyes squint. "Okay. But I don't think you're gonna get rid of her that easily."

"I'm not getting rid of her, I'm helping her. The guy there needs to go to jail, so she has to go to the police."

The door opens behind Heather, and Sasha appears next to her yawning. "You need sleep, it's late." Heather brows go up once again, a knowing grin appearing on her face.

Sasha nods her head and lays down on the floor. "What are you doing?" I can't help the small chuckle that escapes me.

"Going to sleep," confusion laces her voice.

"Sasha, you don't have to sleep on the floor. You can sleep in the bed; I'll sleep on the couch." She sits up, eyes wide as saucers.

"Really?"

"Of course." The smile returns.

"I've only slept on a bed a couple of times, they're really soft." Awe and wonder coat her voice. I have to force myself from not going back to that alley and physically harming that man.

I nod, agreeing with her wonder is better than strangling a man. "It's in that room right there."

She scrambles and scurries to the room, stopping in the doorway, "Thank you."

"It's not a problem, kid. Goodnight."

A bigger smile spreads across her face, "Goodnight!" And she disappears from sight.

Heather stares at me. My hand meets my face and runs down. "I'm going to sleep, tonight has been too long." She nods mouth forming a thin line.

"Well then, goodnight, Jacob."

"Goodnight, Heather"

I lay back on the couch, legs dangling over an armrest.

Heather opens the door, shutting it behind her, and my eyes shut.

A click sounds, and my eyes fly back open, shooting to the door. Once unlocked because of Heather's departure and now locked once again.

She still has a key.