Angie Lynn sighed when she heard the back screen door slam close. "Thank God," she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes. Alone at last.
The walls of that tiny house were so confining, especially in the heat of summer. They say heat expands and cold contracts, but it seems just the opposite is true. In the sweltering dog days of summer, the world closes in, the air grows thick, the walls sweat as the earth waits for the first chill of autumn. Sadly, that is a bit away, so for now, everything bakes.
It was only morning, and already she was sweating. No wonder, though, the A/C barely worked. A slow trickle of cool weakly oozed out of the dust choked vents above her head, but she knew it was not for long. From the silence of her bed, she heard the compressor rattle and wheeze outside, signifying it was about to give up the ghost. She grimaced as she imaged what NEXT summer would be like without it. Even the mountains of Kentucky grow as fried as the Colonel's favorite poultry in the full force of August. Maybe next year I will finally get out of this shithole. I can't stand another year here. I need to do something!
Angie Lynn lay completely still for a few more minutes as she continued to listen, every sound in the house amplified by the heat. After only hearing the slow dying groans of the A/C unit for a while, she grinned. Silence..., complete and total silence greeted her ears. It was confirmed, everyone was gone but her now.
Five people living in a two-bedroom rancher was a problem — a major problem. But today, however, if only for a few moments, she would enjoy that rarest of treats — complete and total privacy. Living in the basement of the home she grew up in, now her Aunt's house, amidst the dirty laundry, the occasional mouse, piles and piles of paper and old Christmas decorations and low overhanging pipes serving as her 'closet', made Angie Lynn savor these rare moments. She didn't even have a proper bed, just an old couch bed jammed up against the staircase leading upstairs.
Is this how she thought things would be? When she was a little girl, she had hoped for so much better, but life gets the last laugh sometimes. You want to be happy? HA! Not for you Angie Lynn, you have a debt to pay. It was a debt you did not incur, but one for which a big Goddamned bill has been given. Grandma sure got the last laugh, didn't she? The only home she had ever known was bequeathed to her Aunt in Grandma's will; a fitting and typical final big "fuck you" from that bitter old woman.
Angie Lynn was not surprised by her misfortune. She grew up on a steady diet of resentment and anger, served up nightly with a side of humiliation and bitterness. She learned early in life to lower her expectations. It made the tragedy more palatable.
It wasn't her fault that her Mom ran off and left Grandma to raise her. She was only a baby after all. Babies, do not make plans — they only fuck plans up. A fact Grandma made sure to remind Angie Lynn of every day of her life. It didn't matter that Angie Lynn had nothing to do with it. Logic and reason were not Grandma's strong suit; and Angie Lynn was a living reminder of how her life had been thrown away by her daughter's poor choices. Another fact she liked to remind Angie Lynn of every day.
Now an unwelcome "guest" in her own home, and barely making any money at Tastee Freeze, Angie Lynn was trapped. Those beautiful green mountains of Kentucky were a terrible snare. A gorgeous Appalachian hellhole, sucking you in, crushing your dreams and chaining you down into an endless cycle of poverty, meth and trailer parks. Is that how she would end up? Does a yawning toothless hellish future await her? Already several of her friends were shooting out youngins and medicating themselves at night with either Jim Beam, or something harder, so it was a slippery slope. And Kentucky can be quite slippery, after all, its initials are KY. She would not follow this path if she could help it, but, she felt her fingers slipping. The desperate clawing struggle out of this dark pit was not an easy climb.
She climbed the creaky stairs up to the first floor, and quickly glanced around to make sure no one was home. Mercifully, she was alone, as she hoped. She hated showering when Aunt Jackie's boyfriend, or even worse, his two teenage sons were home. And to her chagrin, they were almost always home. Perves! She had their number. The minute Aunt Jackie brought Sam home and he and his two sons all moved in shortly thereafter, her already shitty life got even shittier. She constantly felt their lusty stares on her twenty-year-old body, stripping her with their eyes, their redneck brains imagining doing all sorts of things to her. She complained to her Aunt, but as soon as her words left her mouth, she knew it was pointless. Aunt Jackie would have none of it.
Her aunt, God bless her, was a frightened woman. Frightened that her options were poor. Frightened that her financial circumstances were somewhere between grim and apocalyptic, but most of all, frightened that her one asset, her looks, were slipping. At 39, she still was beautiful, but her beauty was a curse as much as it was a blessing. Angie Lynn understood. She didn't agree, but she understood. Desperation is always easy to relate to.
Angie Lynn was beautiful too, and like her Aunt, so far, it had not served her well. So many fumbling romps in the beds of too many pickup trucks..., she had no shortage of male fans to fend off. She heard that her mother was beautiful too, and often wondered. Had she finally gotten fed up with living in this two-bit town and ran off to find a better life, taking her one shot at happiness despite the consequences? Saddling old Grandma with her baby to raise as a final parting gift? Was that who her mother was? Aunt Jackie always said so. She often said Angie Lynn's mom, Jenny, was nothing but a worthless whore, so it was clear; bitterness and anger ran in the family.
Once upstairs, Angie Lynn entered the bathroom and tried in vain to close the door tight. It was useless. It, like everything else in this white trash hovel, was broken. Warped wood, and a sinking foundation kept the door perpetually ajar. But today, alone, she guessed it wouldn't matter. She wouldn't have to worry about Sam, or one of his knuckle dragging redneck sons watching her through the opening. Today she was alone, and for just a brief second, she smiled.
Stripping off her T-shirt and panties, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. I wonder if this is what Mom looked like when she was my age? Grandma always did say she was pretty, right before always adding that she was a worthless slutty cunt. I wonder if I am pretty? The boys at Tastee Freeze seem to think so.
Angie Lynn was pretty, beautiful actually, and this fact only enraged her Grandmother more. It was like she was seeing a rerun of a horror movie she knew the ending to. Don't go upstairs, Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Myers is still alive! It was as if the sins of the mother were doomed to be repeated by the daughter.
"You ain't nothing but a low rent whore, just like your Mama!" Grandma retorted to every perceived slight. Somehow Angie Lynn's long lithe legs and curvy figure was like a knife stabbing in her heart. Yet another daily living example of how her daughter's recklessness blew up her life.
Now naked, Angie Lynn turned on the water to fill the tub and felt the steam quickly fill up the tiny bathroom. It made the heat wetter and even more oppressive, but, Angie Lynn liked the feeling of the hot moist air on her skin. For just a moment, she could imagine she was in some high end spa and wasn't trapped in her white trash hell. In her mind, she could pretend she came from money, and was spoiled and pampered..., like a Kardashian maybe. "Miss Angie Lynn..., the masseuse will see you now? Or perhaps you would like a refill on your champagne first?" She giggled to herself as her imagination took hold. Being alone in the house also meant she would not have to rush. One bathroom for five people creates constant pressure to hurry, so today she could luxuriate in a long bath, shave her legs, and maybe even paint her toenails. She had time, blessed, abundant time.
Sitting on the edge of the tub and pressing her bare foot into the porcelain of the sink, she lathered up her legs. She loved the feel of the cool foam on her already sweating and sizzling legs, and she ran her hands up her calves and smirked. Damn..., I am furry as an ape. It has been a long time since I have been completely alone in the house. Now covered in foam, she took her razor and snaked it up the back of her thigh. When she leaned forward to rinse her razor in the sink, she caught a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye and froze.
There, reflected in the mirror, she saw an eye staring at her through the crack in the door. Wide open and bloodshot, it ravished her body, now completely nude and totally exposed to its lusty gaze. She knew the owner of that eye. It was Billy, Sam's 18-year old son. Damn that pervy fucker!
Shuddering, Angie Lynn quickly covered up with her towel, and spun towards the door.
"I see you Billy! Now get out! This is some fucked up shit, even for you!"
"You are so beautiful, Angie Lynn. Just let me watch," Billy said. "No one has to know."
"You are a such fucking little pervy piece of shit. I am going to tell your Dad."
