Milk-Blood by Mark Matthews Read Free Book Online Page B

can get you your daughter. I’m the one.”
    “ You are rotten. I feel the rotten parts of you.”
    “But I can help.”
    “You will bring my daughter to me?” she asked.
    “ Yes. I see her often.”
    “What did you put inside me that day?”
    “It was supposed to feel g ood, but bad things…I do them sometimes,” he said. “I didn’t kill you.”
    “ You ripped me apart and put something inside of me,” she cried.
    “ But now you have a daughter.”
    “ That girl is your girl too. You fathered her.”
    “ Mine?”
    “ Yes, your girl too. Bring her to me,” she whispered.
    So Jervis paced, back and forth, and the roller coaster in his head got faster with higher climbs, longer falls, and many twists. He checked his pocket, felt the slight outline of his food stamp card and his ID. Recited 3547 to himself. She is my girl too?
    Still, the woman cried, all night and much of the day, like a baby who was sick. It made Jervis dream about sharp knives and sirens and ice storms. His head was glass and ready to shatter. This had to end.
    “I. Will. Get. Her. For. You.” Jervis said, mumbling one word with each step. Then he turned around and repeated himself, “I. Will Get. Her For You.” Turned. “I. Will get. Her for you.” Turned. “I will get her for you.”
    Six words and six steps and it was soothing at first, but then maddening. Energy flowed harder, his words gained power.
    “ IwillGetHerforYou.”
    And he turned .
    “IwillGetHerForYou.”
    And he turned.
    “ IwillGetHerForYou.”
    It rocked his insides, became a drumbeat, faster and louder. Red rage poked like goose bumps through his skin.
    He watched the girl across the street step onto her front porch and then inside the door. His girl. A small girl who got eaten up by houses. Getting her would be easy.

Chapter Six: Lilly Home From School
    I bounced onto my porch to the smell of cigarettes and ashes. They were fresh, I could tell, because the ashes kind of stayed in the air the way they do—like tiny bits of them were still floating.
    No cars were in the driveway, so I checked the front door with a little prayer in my head and a twist of my hand and it spun. It was open. Whew… that was nice.
    The room was dark. No noise. But the re was something inside that seemed different. Like I was in the wrong house. Or maybe I was the wrong person.
    I opened the door all the way and saw why. Uncle Nelson was there, sitting in my daddy’s chair in front of the TV. Next to him his new baby boy Joey was sleeping. Where was the boy’s mom?
    I kept a hand on the doorknob, ready to leave like my dad asked me to if Nelson was acting too weird. Or being too drunk. Or smoking stuff. That was the worst. He didn’t smell like that now though. He smoked things other than cigarettes sometimes and I know what that smelled like.
    “Hey kid, just waiting on your dad. Right?”
    I nodded and looked away. I didn’t want to see Nelson right now so I wouldn’t look at his eyes. I refused to, but felt his eyes on me, trying to make me look. I looked down at the baby seat. They carried Joey in that thing everywhere, and then just slipped it in their car. I could hear their car a mile down the road. I thought about lifting the baby out of the seat but didn’t want to be anywhere near his daddy, Nelson.
    “Okay,” I said, giving Uncle Nelson an answer to make him happy, and went to the kitchen to get some bread. There was half a loaf that had started to mold, but I flipped deep down into the thin bag and found one that was the best. I toasted the bread because I heard that makes it less stale and kills the bad stuff. The peanut butter melted onto the hot bread and spread easy with the knife. The first bite burnt my tongue but tasted so good and creamy.
    Cigarette smoke drifted in from the other room. I licked the peanut butter off the knife and my tongue rubbed a bit on the sharp side, but the knife was too dull to really hurt. My mouth watered and my stomach made