A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing Pt.6

“Are you crazy? You could’ve gotten yourself killed! Get up!” Paul was beyond agitated with me. I was scared and slow moving in response to his anger. I did not want him to hurt me like Mr. Hayden. I cringed just thinking about his rough tongue on my ear. Mr. Hayden had scarred my imagination because I was digging my nails deeply into my thighs. Paul roughly yanked my arm and escorted me to the mailbox with him. “Don’t move. You’ve been enough trouble today. I didn’t want to take you in with me in the first place! I could have left you at the gas station and went on about my business! Dang gone kids.” Paul fiddled around with the keys and opened the lock to his mailbox. He handed me a stack of mail. I shook the thought of Mr. Hayden’s actions to me out of my head. “Crap I didn’t bring my umbrella. Hurry and put this under your sweat shirt, try not to get it to wet,” he said handing me limp mail. I shoved it under my shirt. “Ok. Come on,” he motioned.
Paul’s apartment looked more like a room than an actual apartment. There was a dirty white mattress laying flat on the middle of the floor. A small television sat upon a drawer in front of it. Next to the television lie two 25lbs dumbbells and a pair of clean dress shoes, flip flops and sneakers. Paul threw his keys on the countertop and walked to the kitchen sink to rinse his bloody hand off. I stood close to the doorway with the mail still clung under my sweatshirt to my stomach.
“Alrightey,” Paul exclaimed wringing his hands free of water. “Would you prefer a blow up mattress or sleeping bag tonight?” He opened a thin closet searching through a collage of clothes. He smiled and looked back at me. It was as if the incident outside that had just occurred was forgotten.
“Sleep bag,” I answered softly. Paul pounded dust out of a yellow sleeping bag, coughing, and flattened it on the ground. “I guess I’ll go ahead and wash it,” he murmured to himself.
“Take off your clothes.” He walked into the bathroom and exited with a red worn out wet rag. I clenched the mail tighter into my chest nervously and backed up against the door. He walked back to his dusty closet and grabbed a long white shirt and handed it to me.
“Bathroom is over there, obviously,” he said chuckling to himself. “Oh yea give me_.” I pulled the moist mail from under my shirt before he could finish. “Thanks for keeping it oh so dry,” he said sarcastically under his breath.
“I want to keep my clothes on,” I said digging my hands into my pockets and looking down.
“Well, that’s you if you want to sleep in wet clothes that will get you sick.” He snatched the t shirt out of my hand and hung it onto his shoulder irritated. He began to walk to the closet and stopped dead in his tracks to make a U-turn.
“Ok, Jalane, what happened today at the gas station was a very unfortunate event,” he scratched his head and swallowed. “I won’t hurt you. Understand that ok? It is 3 in the afternoon and your mom doesn’t get off until midnight, so until then I’ll keep you here. There’s not many toys around here to play with, ummm or anything around this place at all,” he said looking around disappointed, “but I have a few movies you and I can watch together! I even have newspapers you can read, so what do you say,” he said extending his arm to give me the white t shirt again. Paul had my vote in being somewhat trustworthy. I had just made the mistake in trusting a sneaky looking fool, Mr. Hayden, and I was hoping I wasn’t about to make the same mistake with Paul. Skeptically, I grabbed the shirt quickly and ran into the bathroom right afterward. I slammed the door and locked it leaning against it gasping for air.
After I put on the white shirt, I cracked the door open and peeked through it to see where Paul was. He was sitting on top of the green sweater that was lodged under the desk at “Way 2 Go”. The plastic bag with the white substance was resting in his hand and he was picking at it with a miniature stick. “Come sit down,” he said patting on his mattress without looking back. I wasn’t sure how he had heard me. Watching him sit on the mattress and him offer me a seat next to him reminded me of my mother. The bed was my mother and I’s special place. It was odd to use the same bed with any other human besides my mom. I imagined her snore roar into my ears and its illusion gently placed a smile on my face. Immediately, reality hit hard and I realized that she did not fulfill her duty today. It forced me to be upset, confused and in the horrible situation I was currently arranged in. I sat down next to the mattress and Paul slid the plastic bag, tightly twisted, under his green sweater.
“Movie time,” he clapped enthusiastically, arm muscles stretching his skin. He had changed into white basketball shorts and his upper body was shaven and toned unlike Mr. Wob’s. I had never seen another man’s bare chest except for Mr.Wob’s. “You like watching funny stuff or scary movies?”
“Funny.”