Reincarnated

She dialed the numbers on her cell phone, her palms becoming more and more sweaty by the second. Her stomach began to sink and that very familiar feeling crept over her body-- she had run out of money, again. Calling home was the last thing she needed to do in order to prove that she was slowly, but surely, becoming a young, independent woman.

She hung the phone up.

Pacing back and forth over the old, creaking hardwood floor, she dialed the familiar combination of numbers, yet again. She could feel her heart nervously excite inside of her chest.

It had been only fifteen days since she had to call her mom up for cash. By now, everyone including June, expected that she would have a job. The truth was that if she wasn't busy making her treks across town to buy the best weed she could find, she was busy smoking up the best weed she could find. She replayed these things that she realized about herself over, and over again. Shaking her head, she was utterly disgusted by her apathy toward making any changes. She made up her mind then that this would be the last time that she would have to call her mom up for cash.

"Hello?"
"Ma..."
"Hey, baby girl. What's going on?"
"Nothing much. How is everything over there?"
"Oh, everything has been just fine. You know your grandmother's birthday was last week."
"Yes, Ma. I know. Where is he?"
"Where is... Oh!" Silence. "He's gone to work already. Why?"
"Ma, you've got to get out of there. How long are you going to allow him to dominate your life? You see I'm out of there, and I couldn't wait to get away. Ma, you can do it. You can even come and stay with me awhile if you need to."
Again, there was silence. Her mother sighed and said, "What is it that you need, Juney Boone?"

"Today's Tuesday."
"The food market is open. Is that it?"
"Yes..."
"I'll go to the bank now and put some money on your card. You have to wait about an hour, though. Give the transaction a chance to make it through."
"Thanks."
"Bye, baby. Love you."
"You, too."

June flung her body across her bed in relief.

Her mother tried to make the conversations as concise as possible–she didn't need June to tell her what she needed to do with her life. June understood, but only wanted the best for her mother and she was sure that her mom could do far better than to allow him to overtly adulterize time and time again.

Merely the sound of her mothers voice reminded her of the days when his wrath seemed inescapable. His force-to-be-reckoned-with demeanor was dominating and emotionally-tiring. Her mother moped around, suffering from a permanent state of emotional fatigue. Only a couple of years ago, June felt helpless under his power, too. She was not yet old enough to speak up, and too young to move out.

For her, simply reminiscing induced posttraumatic stress. Habitually, she grabbed for her stashes of green, but her money clip was empty and her little plastic baggie was left with only residue. She felt hungry. June got herself together and headed outdoors towards the bank.

She emerged from the back alley and immediately noticed the dense crowd right in the corner where Polaski and Rousse met. Her focus danced from the back of the crowd up the to top of the Bank. Who is this? she thought. What now? She drifted toward the perimeter of the crowd.

The man held a thick book in his hand. It was tattered and of dark green. In the other, he held a machete, gripped so tightly that his veins protruded from his hand, all the way up his neck to the center of his forehead. He looked down at the book, his mouth shining from excess salivation. "I am the way the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Bank except through Me." He looked up from the text, waiting for the crowd's reaction to the familiar words.

June made her way through the crowd, hand extended into the air, bank card in hand. She wasn't there for the show; she had read about it before. "That means you, bitch!" he shouted from the top of the building. He pointed the machete at the top of June's head. "If you wanna do business here, you need my permission." June kept waking. "Aaaand I grant you permission," he said as June approached the ATM.

She heard the helicopters approaching above her head. Had they seriously brought the S.W.A.T. team in for this occasion? she thought. The blue and red lights were visible through the convex mirror on the front of the ATM. She could smell the rain and feel the familiar breeze that comes before the rain. She grabbed her money from the slot and made her way back through the crowd. She saw the lady from the top of the laundromat along with her imaginary...something. By now, she had figured out that it couldn't be a human, but wasn't quite sure exactly what it was yet.

As it landed on the top of the Bank, the helicopter blew leaves from the trees that surround the old well. The green leaves fluttered in the air and rained down onto the heads of the crowd. Three men bearing arms and dressed in all black hopped out of the helicopter. A fourth toted handcuffs and a straight jacket. He raised his machete and several shots were fired. Both of his hands began to pour blood. They tackled him from behind and his bible flew from his hand off the top of the building. The wind tore the thin pages from the bind of the book and the words fell over the people. The crowd made way and the cover, reading "HOLY BIBLE," landed on the ground, empty. "Forgive them father." A strained voice could be heard from the top of the building. "They know not what they do." June mouthed the words as he said them aloud. Birds flew from the trees as the leaves continued to blow.

"Don't let the psycho fool you, " she said under her breath. "Fool you once, shame on him. Fool you twice, shame on you."

She looked down at the money in her hand and was sent back to her own calvary.