Payment Past Due.

Steve Anywll

When he gets out of the van I'm sure I'm fucked. And as he charges towards me I think that maybe when I threw the slice of pizza I shoudn't have timed it so perfectly. But the joy I felt as it hit the passenger side window with a greasy thwaap.

Well, it could be worth dying for.

The street between us is dimly lit and he closes the gap in a couple strides. He's got a foot and a half on me. A hundered and fifty pounds. He snorts like a bull. Steam and everything. His clenched fists are the size of my head. I can see the electricity running through his flesh. Anticipation makes it twitch.

You think you're fucking funny? he snarls through a perfectly trimmed goatee. Which triggers a smirk I'm unable to hide. A curl of my lip that's got me into trouble with men like this all my life. They always think I'm getting smart. But they wouldn't know it if I was.

He calls me a pussy then knocks out one of my teeth. A move so fast I never see it coming even though I should. I fall backwards. Street lamps obliterate the stars in the sky but not my head. My blood splatters across a snow bank as I land in it. Some nights are so full of beauty it's unfair.

I lie in the snow like I'm at home in my bed. I hear sounds I'm familiar with but can't quite place. So I look up. And he's standing above me silhouetted in a ring of light. Angelic. But his pants are hanging from his waist. And a cock the size of my forearm is aimed directly at my chest.

Urine hits me like a blast from a hose. I don't gag. I don't move. I let him soak me while he laughs. I hear the driver of the van yell across the quiet night that they don't have time for this. That they need to get going. It's too late, my abuser replies, there's no stopping now. And don't worry, the little fucker loves it.

Which is a stretch. But I do feel resigned to my fate. Content to give in. Because we all have to pay for the air that we breathe. The things that we do. So as his hot piss burns my eyes it's easy to see how this is long overdue.

His stream trickles out. And so does his laughter. I don't look up but hear him walk away. The van door closes before they drive off. Tires crunch the snow when it does. I lie there. Not moving. And watch the steam rise up into the night.

Steve Anywll is a nobody and Tyrant Books was kind enough to publish his novel Welfare. He can be found online @oneloveasshole.