The Blood Servant

Hell Descends The wind scraped trash on the grime-encrusted cement path leading up to the alley—between massive abandoned buildings embedded with turbulence, vandalised and broken beyond repair. The forgotten parts of Detroit had been home to us—me, my twin and our mom for over two years, and we have yet to adapt to the macabre ambience.  It wasn’t what lurked on the inside of those ominous-looking windows, the litter, or the horrid stench of this place that made it difficult to feel comfortable here. It was the dead.  Their emotions clung to us like a heavy weight, sucking the last bit of optimism and energy we had left out of us. Over the years of being able to see them, you’d think I’d grow used to it, but the dead appeared in the same state they had died.  Pete, who occupied an old hotel nearby and frequented the alley that was dubbed ‘the refresh area’, though, there was nothing refreshing over there... Well, he was burnt alive inside his car.  Regardless of his death’s circumstances, he’s the friendliest spook to hang around these parts. A harsh stench of stale beer and vomit hit me from out of nowhere—a forewarning that someone else was nearby, or that someone had recently been here. I slowed my pace, careful not to draw any attention as I surveyed the area, preparing myself in case I had to make a run for it. I’ve had more than my fair share of creeps lurking around, trying to score more than a conversation. I barely escaped the last one, so I wasn’t taking any chances.  The wind sighed once more through the narrow pathway, bristling my long, sandy blonde hair into my face. I lifted a hand to swat away the hair, when the pounding of feet resonated from behind me.  I spun around, ready to take off into the other direction, but my tense shoulders eased up almost immediately when I saw the familiar face. “Mom, you scared the living daylights out of me.” Mom was grinning, dressed up in the outfit she had borrowed from Mr. Way at a nearby laundromat, promising him a date in exchange. She didn’t like him in a romantic way, but she did what she could to get around. I knew it sounded like a horrible thing to do, but we’ve had to do what we could to keep our heads above the water, or we’d drown.  “You look nice,” I smiled. “How was the interview?”  “Well, my new boss eats way too much garlic and has a thing for garden gnomes, but other than that, it wasn’t too bad.” Mom’s large, honey colored eyes sparkled when she spoke. Even when she was angry or yelling, it was hard to take her seriously because she had that saint-like look to her. However, when she smiled, the world could do nothing but light up around her.  My twin, Robyn, was an almost exact replica of Mom, except she had blonde hair like me, where Mom was a brunette.  I, on the other hand, didn't look like either of them. I had my dad’s features, including his gray eyes.  I’d never met the man, but Mom had confirmed I looked like my neglectful sperm donor. Not in her words, but it was what Robyn and I called him.  “That sounds so gross,” I pulled a face, until I realized what Mom had just said. “Wait, what? What?” Mom squealed, doing an awkward-looking dance where she pumped her fists into the air and spun around. “I got the job!”  I copied Mom’s squealing fit, dropping my bag on the concrete and fell into her arms, feeling my eyes growing warm with tears. “I’m so happy for you. It’s about time someone realizes how great you are.” “Right?” Mom breathed out in a shaky voice, and I knew she was crying too. “And you know what this means?” “We get to rent a place again?” I asked, hopeful.  “That’s exactly what it means.” Mom’s eyes were glassy when she pulled out of our embrace. “We won’t have furniture for a while, or fancy food, but we get a roof over our heads before winter comes.” “Who cares?” I wiped away a tear. “I just want a hot bath.”  “With a lavender soak and lots of bubbles,” Mom wistfully groaned. “Speaking of, you’re off to clean up? Mind if I borrow some of your toothpaste?” “Sure.” I lifted my bag from the ground and swung it in the direction of the refresh area. “Do you smell that?” Mom nodded, scanning the darker corners of the narrow pathway. “The smell has been here since this morning. Probably another drunk that needed a spot to crash. He should be long gone by now, but stay close just in case.” We walked a few more metres when we reached the alley where the only nearby working tap was, right next to a dumpster other homeless people liked to do their business in. As in, it was the public toilet.  Fortunately for us, the abandoned factory we slept in at night had a working toilet, well hidden from sight. We chose to stay in the factory, because there was a lockable storage room, and if the homeless or dodgy people wandered the area, they’d likely go for one of the empty hotels or apartment buildings.  Unfortunately for us, we had no choice but to put up with the stench when we had to brush teeth, clean up or do laundry.  It sucked, but I learnt by now that something was better than nothing.  Pausing beside the dripping tap, I rummaged inside my bag for the toothpaste and handed it over to Mom. “I bet Robyn is sitting beside a campfire right now, toasting marshmallows and flirting with Isaac.” Mom sighed. “I wish you could have been there too.” “Mom, out of everyone, there is no one who deserves the break more than she does.” There was a raffle at school to go on the Summer trip for free and my twin won. I couldn’t be more happy for her, but deep down I wished I could have been there too.  The last time I was on a school trip, we were eight and it was only because one of the teachers felt sorry for us and was our sponsor.  Life had been tough on us financially, but we had each other and that was everything.