Eight years old

“Shh, you’ll get us caught.”

“No one’s going to find us. Don’t be such a baby, Rhi.”

“I’m not a baby,” my voice raises a little with denial.

I hate when Xavier calls me a baby. I’m eight years old and can do a ton of things for myself. Like, daddy lets me ride my bike around the neighborhood all alone. Well, really until the end of the street, but still. Plus, grownups say I have a mature soul; whatever that means. It doesn't sound babyish, though.

“No talking until we get outside,” he whispers. He’s so bossy. But, he is two years older than me, so I guess, technically, he is in charge. Plus, he's my best friend, so I overlook these things.

We duck out the French door in the kitchen, into the dark, trying our best not to make a sound.

This probably isn't a good idea. Rescue the princess is a game we play often but never at night.

The moon plays peekaboo in the cloud-covered sky, and we slip like mist across the damp grass, hopefully without being seen by the guards.

If my father found us sneaking out, we’d probably be murdered. You think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. I've heard the staff whispering when they think I'm not listening. Once, I asked my mother if he’s a bad man, and she told me never to say it again. She said he protects us from the other bad people of the world. So, I guess he's good to us.

Well, good to me, anyways. He doesn't care much for Xavier. Mom says he only tolerates him because he’s Hannah’s son. She’s our maid, tall with beautiful hair the color of chocolate, and one of the nicest women I’ve ever met. And if I'm being honest, sometimes, when she brushes my long red hair, I pretend she’s my mother.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, but she’s always busy entertaining my dad’s boring friends when she's not working at his office.

“This way,” Xavier directs, leading me down the uneven cobblestone path that cuts through the backyard.

He grabs my hand when I hesitate, and like always, I feel as if nothing can harm me out here with him.

“We’re almost there,” he reassures, taking us away from the safety of the big brick house, toward the towering woods.

“Maybe we shouldn't,” I hedge.

Unsure, I peek over my shoulder for a moment. Like a beacon calling me home, a light flickers through an upstairs window.

“No turning back.” Xavier’s blue eyes glow with anticipation of all the things I'm afraid of as he tugs me along. He's the opposite of me: fearless.

A blanket of twigs snap beneath our sneakers as Xavier tightens his grip on my sweaty hand. Crickets chirp and things I don't want to think about rustle through the darkness as we move further than I've ever been through the knotty trunks.

A small cabin, in a clearing, comes into view, and he rushes up the rickety stairs, to the front door, dropping my hand somewhere along the way.

Spooky shadows lurk inside the windows, and I hang back a bit, my sneakers cemented to the earth. “What’s in there?”

“Don’t be a fraidy cat.”

“I’m not afraid.” I raise my chin and step on the first wooden plank leading up to a small porch.

He opens the door. “Ready?”

I’m not, but I’ll never let him know it, so I continue on and follow him into the unknown.

He flicks his flashlight on and scans the room. The dark walls are bare, and a lone chair sits like a throne in the middle of the room with steel handcuffs attached to both arms.

“What is this place?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, looking over at me. “I followed your dad and his friends the other day down here.”

“Xavier, we shouldn't be here. I don’t think good things happen in this place. I don't like it here.”

He grabs my arm, his blue eyes holding mine. “One day, I’ll take you away from your father and all the bad things.”

Xavier has never liked daddy either. His cold hard stare. The gruff in his voice when he yells at him for everything.

My father calls him a ...nuisance.

“What if I don't want to leave?”

“What could you possibly like about living with your father?”

I don't get to answer because there’s a snap of a tree branch outside.

“Hide,” he says, flicking off his flashlight. We crouch by the far wall of the small cabin, behind a table of tools I don’t fully understand.

The front door flies open. “Who’s in here?” The sound of my father’s voice startles us both. Xavier, eyes loaded with fear, slaps a hand over my mouth before I can answer.

Tucking my knees to my chest, I try to make myself disappear. I squeeze my eyes shut, anything to make me go away. My father will probably spank me for being out here, maybe ground me forever from playing outside, but it’s nothing compared to what he’ll do to Xavier.

He might even go so far as to fire his mother.

When my father shines his light around the room, we shrink back into the small alcove of the side. Footsteps fall faster to our hiding spot, and Xavier is yanked up by his hoodie.

“You're hiding like a rat,” my father bites out. “Why are you in here?”

Xavier’s eyes meet mine, and he gives a little shake of his head, warning me to stay silent. “Answer me,” he yells so loud it feels like the walls vibrate.

“I was just exploring,” Xavier finally responds.

“Exploring?” My father drags him to the chair and drops him down in it. “Come out of there, Rhiannon,” he orders.

Reluctantly, I stand from my hiding spot. He flips on the light, and I squint against the fluorescent glare. He's scary when he's angry. Pinched face, flaring nostrils. And right now, he's madder than I've ever seen him. Hannah says to count when I'm afraid or upset and when I'm finished, it won't seem so bad. So, I count the steps over to him in my head to calm myself.

One.

Two.

Three.

I don't want to be a baby, but the tears start falling.

Four.

Five.

He grips my arm and yanks me in front of Xavier. “What are you doing here, Rhiannon?”

Through my tears, I answer. “I'm only eight, you can't expect me to make good choices.”

He pulls his leather belt free from the loops… and then whips me.

Over and over.

Until the numbers in my head jumble.

Until I see little stars behind my squeezed eyelids.

Until I cry out I won't do it again.

“Stop,” Xavier yells. “It's not her fault. Punish me.”

“This is your punishment, Xavier,” my father shouts.

Finally, after a few more minutes, the hits cease, but the sting and burn continues so fierce I rub my bottom. I'm sure Xavier really thinks I'm a baby now; I can't stop the shudders waffling my frame or the hiccuping sobs.

My father leans down, an inch from Xavier’s stricken face, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. “Remember this lesson.”

Xavier doesn't look at me on the entire walk back. My father strides ahead of us across the lawn and when he's out of ear shot, Xavier takes my hand.

“One day, Rhiannon, I will take you away from him.”

I don’t say a word. The look in his eyes tells me he isn’t kidding.