Start a War （Saint View Psychos #1）
Elle Thorpe
V1.
Editing by Emmy and Studio ENP
Proofreading by Karen Hrdlicka.
Photography by Michelle Lancaster Model: Tyler James
Cover Design: Elle Thorpe
PROLOGUE
BLISS
I was always hungry.
Some days it wasn’t so bad, and the gnawing feeling in the depths of my stomach could be ignored while I watched cartoons on the tiny TV in our trailer. Some days the bugs that bit at my skinny legs and crawled through my matted hair were more annoying than the ache of an empty tummy.
But some days, normally the ones where Axel hadn’t come by for a while, the hunger was all I could focus on. It took over everything else and couldn’t be held off with water or cartoons or staring out the trailer window at other kids walking to and from school.
Those were the days I searched the trailer cupboards silently, even though I knew they were all bare.
Those were the days I crawled around the floor, trying to hold in my whimpers because what good would crying do? Better to just search the cracked linoleum for any scrap that might have been dropped from a previous meal when Mom or Jerry had been feeling generous.
Those were good times. When Jerry came home, his eyes clear instead of their usual red. When Mom wasn’t passed out in her bedroom, and Axel wasn’t at school or working. When the smell of fried chicken with mashed potato and gravy permeated the air, covering up the rotting stench of mold and dirt and body odor.
I lived for those days, when the four of us gathered at the table, and for a moment, I could pretend we were a real family.
Even at five, I knew not all families were like ours. Some were happy. Some had food all the time. Some had parents who loved them and took care of them. The moms brushed their daughter’s hair and kissed their chubby cheeks and told them they loved them.
Across the trailer, my mother lay spread-eagled across her unmade bed, her hair a knotted, matted mess around her head. I knew better than to interrupt her when she was sleeping.
I knew better than to hope she’d care that I was starving.
I tried to sleep, even though darkness had only just fallen and I wasn’t tired. At least when I was asleep, the pain all went away.
I might have drifted off but it didn’t last long. Jerry’s boots pounded on the metal steps, waking me instantly. He jerked open the trailer door, letting it swing back with a crack that was loud enough to wake the entire park.
“Kim! You fucking ho. Where the hell are you?”
I curled slowly, tucking my knees to my chest, trying to make myself small.
Even though he wasn’t looking for me, I knew that tone in his voice. It was only a matter of time before his rage would extend to me too.
I slipped beneath the pile of dirty blankets on my bed and hoped if I stayed still enough, he wouldn’t notice my breathing. I left only the tiniest of gaps so I could peer out, because it would not be smart to take my eyes off Jerry when he was like this.
He stormed into my mother’s bedroom, his chest heaving with rage, spit collecting at the corner of his mouth. “Kim! Is this where you’ve been all day, you lousy bitch?”
She didn’t move from the bed.
The urge to be helpful came over me, ready to offer up information on Mom’s whereabouts. Not that there was really much to tell. Because she had been there on her bed, ever since she’d stumbled in early this morning.
“Tired, Jerry,” she mumbled. “Leave me alone.”
For a big man, Jerry could move fast when he wanted to. His fingers speared into her dirty dark hair and yanked her head back.
The scream she let out cut right through me, locking up all my muscles.
“You’re tired?” he yelled. “You’re tired? You’ve done nothing but sleep all day, you lazy cow. While I worked to pay your goddamn bills.”
“I worked last night!”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Bullshit. Where’s your money then?”
She struggled to her feet, but her eyes were more focused than I’d seen them in days. She glared at him with sparks of anger dancing in her gaze. “It’s my money, and I ain’t giving it to you.”
He let out a roar of anger as he slammed her up against a wall. “I own you, bitch! Anything you earn is my money. Did you forget that? Did you forget that your dirty, used-up cunt always belongs to me, no matter how many men pound it? Do I need to remind you?”
The crack of his hand across her face and her responding cry had me closing up the gap in the blankets so I didn’t have to watch anymore. I plugged my fingers in my ears, but there was no keeping out the sounds from my mother’s bedroom.