Doesn't even hurt

Mardi Gras was their golden hour, chaotic, crowded, and cash filled. The plan was foolproof, and it never failed. Chloe played the invisible beggar, slipping through the crowd unnoticed. She’d get close, real close, and just as James barreled into the mark with a well-timed shove, her fingers would do their work. The mark wouldn’t feel a thing. Then Todd, smooth as ever, would swoop in, grab the goods, wallet, chain, whatever, and stash it nearby. They’d been at it for years, skimming a little off the top each time. No one ever caught on. By now, their hideout had five grand and a handful of shiny trinkets tucked away.

Chloe trudged home, stomach growling louder than the street noise. She had cash on her but couldn’t touch it without her dad’s say-so.

“Dad! Mom!” she called out, stepping into the dump they called home, peeling paint, piles of junk, and that ever-present stench.

“Get your ass in here,” her dad barked from the living room. She didn’t even need to see him to know what was coming. The belt was out. That meant one thing: she was in for it today.

Chloe handed over the cash. “That’s it?” he snapped, already winding up. The belt came down hard, mostly on her lower back. She didn’t even flinch anymore, just burned with hate. Hate for him, for the way he always took it out on her mom most of all. When he finally stopped, she locked eyes with him, defiant. “I’m hungry,” she yelled.

Her mom stormed out of the bedroom, her voice sharp and raw. “Get your damn hands off her!” She wobbled slightly, her face slim but fierce. It wasn’t easy for her, she was fighting to stay clean, battling through the shakes and the cravings. Some days were worse than others, but today, she seemed to have a little fire left in her.

“Come on, baby,” her mom said, softer now, pulling out bread and cheese. “Grilled cheese sound good?” She stopped holding her head.

“Yeah, Mami,” Chloe said, her voice low but steady. She watched her mom move around the kitchen, a quiet force of calm in the chaos. Her mom was the opposite of him, soft where he was hard, patient where he was quick to snap. She had this way of making even the crappiest days feel a little less heavy. Her caramel toned skin still had that youthful glow, her hazel eyes warm and tired but always kind. And that smile, it was like a flicker of light in the middle of all the bullshit. Chloe couldn’t help but feel a little less alone when she saw it.

As Chloe ate, her mom tugged up her shirt to check the fresh welts, tears streaming down her face. “It’s fine, Mom,” Chloe mumbled through a mouthful of grilled cheese. “Doesn’t even hurt.”

He led her into the room and shut the door behind them. “Chloe, listen,” her mom said, her voice low and steady. “What I’m about to tell you stays between us, got it? There’s something in you, something strong. Your grandmother had it too. It’s powerful, and it can scare people if they see it. So, you keep it hidden, and you only bring it out when you really need it.”

Chloe nodded, wide-eyed but silent. Her mom pulled out a book, old and heavy, the leather covers a faded greenish black. She flipped through the pages, her fingers brushing over the worn edges, then stopped. Mumbled something under her breath, sharp and quick, and sliced her palm with a small blade. Blood dripped onto the pages, and the book seemed to shudder, the pages flying open on their own.

Her mom’s eyes locked onto the book, intense and focused. Chloe felt a sudden warmth spread across her back, the sting of her welts fading instantly. Before she could say anything, there was a knock at the door. Her mom snapped the book shut, tucked it into Chloe’s backpack, and opened the door like nothing had happened.

French Quarter

The next day, they were back at it, stealing, pickpocketing, the usual. The wedding parade bursts into motion with the blare of brass, trumpets, trombones, and drums filling the air. The bride and groom lead the way, dancing with ornate umbrellas held high, their joy infectious. Behind them, guests fall into step, waving white handkerchiefs, laughing, and moving to the beat. The streets come alive with rhythm, color, and celebration. It’s not just a walk; it’s a moving party.

But this time, they got caught. The guy they tried to hit. Undercover cop. He grabbed James and Chloe first, and when Todd jumped in to help, he got nabbed too. They were cops, all cops at the wedding. Just bad luck that’s all.

Chloe didn’t cry, didn’t even flinch. She just glared at the cop like he was the one in trouble.

“Call my dad,” James said, calm but firm.

Todd wasn’t so lucky. He was in foster care, and for once, he actually liked his foster mom. She gave a damn about him, which was more than most people did.

At the station, the parents were called. Chloe sat in a room, silent as a stone. James and Todd weren’t talking either.

James’s dad showed up first, red-faced and furious. “You steal? For what? You’ve got money! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

The chief waved him into his office. “Your kid’s just helping them out, mostly the girl, Chloe. Take it easy on him.” He chuckled. “Boys will be boys.”

James’s dad laughed too, shaking the chief’s hand. “Thanks, I owe you one.” How are you doing? meaning his health

“I’m good,” the chief said. “Take your kid home. See you at the party.”

“For sure,” James’s dad said with a wink.

On his way out, he spotted Chloe sitting there, twelve maybe thirteen, big blue eyes, looking way too young for this mess. Then he saw her dad and grabbed him by the arm.

“Tell your little brat to stay away from my son,” he growled. “Or else.”

“Yes, sir,” Chloe’s dad muttered, head down.

James’s dad dragged him out by the arm, passing Chloe and her father on the way. James stopped for a second. “You, okay?” he asked her.

“She’s fine,” his dad snapped. “Now move it.”

It was the last time she saw him.

Todd’s foster mom shot Chloe’s dad a look, like she was judging him.

“What are you looking at?” he barked at her, defensive and mean as ever.

He turned to Chloe. “Let’s go.” She followed him home, her steps heavy.

The belt came down, harder than usual, and this time the pain was too much, she blacked out. It took her a week to even move without wincing.

When she finally made it to the tomb, Todd was there, waiting.

“Figured he beat the crap out of you,” he said, his voice low

She lifted her shirt without a word. Todd’s face dropped, his jaw tightening as he looked at the fresh bruises. “I swear, I’m going to stab that bastard’s eyes out,” he muttered under his breath.

He pulled her into a hug, careful not to touch her back.

“Where’s James?” she asked, unwrapping a Snickers bar she found in her bag.

“Gone,” Todd said, sitting back on the tomb floor. “His dad is here, but he shipped him off to college already.” He paused, then added, “Don’t worry, though. I’m not going anywhere.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “Okay,” she said, pulling out her math book. “Let’s finish this homework. I missed a whole week.”