Daddy's Little Girl
It was three in the morning, and Ireane had just got to sleep. Her bed was cold and thin, but she was glad to have it. Her old bed had been moldy and damp, so this was definitely an improvement. Her dad was in the living room, watching TV and drinking whatever it was he had gotten his hands on earlier that day. He had spent the food money; both their shares; but she didn’t mind. She had other ways of getting what she needed.
In the living room, Anton Shurbet threw yet another bottle against the wall; he smiled as it shattered against the wall and reached for another from his bag. He leaned down to reach further, and fell off his chair into the empty bag.
“Fuck! Ireane!” he called for her, but she didn’t answer. She was too drained from the day; it would take a truck to wake her now. Anton swore and stumbled as he pulled himself up. He started walking around the living room, picking up bottles and sucking them as dry as possible before throwing them angrily against the wall.
“Where’s the...the bloody...where’s my booze!?” He stumbled around the shack of a house, groaning and smashing things; Ireane was glad she was asleep. “I need the fucking...things! Ireane!”
Once again, she didn’t answer. Anton moaned and walked over to her room, fiddling with the door handle, which was locked.
“Ireane! Open this door!” He pounded on the wood and shook the handle. “I need you to...the store and...fuck I need... Get me a whore, Ireane!”
She didn’t listen; she couldn’t listen. That, of course, just made him angry. He tried to kick the door open, but fell back in a drunken rage. He yelled out and was about to get up when the phone rang.
Anton crawled over to the phone and reached up to grab it; it fell on him, the cord tying him up a bit. He swore and fumbled around for the receiver. Voices on the other end kept speaking until he finally found it.
“What!?” He moaned into the phone.
“I said what?”
“How would you like to make a whole lot of tax-free money?”
The next day when Ireane woke up, she was surprised at how quiet it was. She looked over at her door, which was now leaning towards her a bit from the pounding it had taken earlier that morning. She sighed and threw a pillow at it.
“He never lets me sleep...”
She got up slowly and got dressed. She cleaned her piercings, brushed her hair and smiled at herself in the mirror. She smiled for about thirty seconds before her face gave up and she slumped over.
“A new personal best.” She muttered, unlocking her door and stepping out into the hall. There were new stains on the ground from her father, and she stepped over them casually.
“Daddy? You need a beer run or something?”
There was no answer. She shrugged and went to the living room, grabbing a broom on her way and sweeping up broken bottle pieces.
She glanced over at the wall clock; it was a bit past noon. She sighed and put the broken bottles in the trash before gathering the good ones for recycle-money. She made a note to go down to the depot later.
“Daddy! If you keep breaking the bottles we won’t get any refunds!”
Again there was no answer. Ireane went to take the trash outside and cut her hand on a piece sticking out of the bag.
“Shit...” She licked the blood off and heaved the bag over her shoulder, opening the screen door and heading outside. “Daddy, you out here? I hope you didn’t sleep on the porch again. You know how the neighbors...”
Ireane looked up and dropped her bag. Her father was outside alright, but he was wide awake. There were two armored vans in the lot, and at least fifty men in uniforms. She ran up to her father, but was stopped by one of the men.
“You Ireane Shurbet?”
“Let go of me!” Ireane shrugged him off and kicked him hard in the shins before running up to her father. “Daddy!”
Anton smirked at her for a second before a sack-bag was placed over her head. She screamed and thrashed around, but someone had her by the wrists.
“The more you have around, the better it is! She can’t get more than one I think.” Anton said, watching them tie up his daughter as she thrashed around on the ground.
He ignored her and turned to the man he was with before.
“Where’s my money?”
The man handed him a suitcase. “It’s all there, and everything else is set-up. You’ll be living in a...better location from now on.”
“You bet your ass I will be.” He smirked and opened the case, looking at the money inside.
“And you’ll stay there, if you let us keep her.”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep ’till there’s nothing left. I don’t care.”
The man held out a piece of paper and Anton signed it, closing the case. Ireane’s eyes glowed red, but it was no use; none of the men had guns, and the one she made rough was nothing compared to the other forty-nine in the party. She was helpless.
“Let me out of here you bastards! Daddy! Get them off me!”
One of the men looked to Anton, who just swished his hand and smirked at his case. The man kneed Ireane, hard, in the stomach. She choked and slumped over in two other men’s hands. They dragged her to one of the vans, and threw her on the back. She gasped for breath and sat up, blind in the sack on her head.
Anton walked inside to pack his things for the ‘big move’. The doors were slammed, and both vans started.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Shurbet.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, looking at his money. “And how.”