Most kids were excited about the last day of school. And to a certain extent, I was, too. I’d worked hard all year and made straight As. I didn’t know how far back colleges reviewed grades, but I hoped they’d see how hard I tried all through school. Getting a scholarship was the only way I’d ever see a college campus, so I had to work hard and pray I could get in.
And for that reason, I was ready to give my brain a rest. But not being in school brought on other problems. Mama had to worry about having enough food in the house to feed us since the free breakfast and lunch the school provided wasn’t an option in the summer. It also meant more hours of the day spent alone in this house with him. And that bothered me way more than skipping a few meals.
I could only hope he’d keep working those side jobs that he’d been busy with the past few weeks. I held onto that hope. But it was quickly shut down as we rounded the corner of the driveway and I saw him in the front yard, crouched down next to an old motorcycle. It dawned on me why he’d actually gotten off his butt to do anything—it wasn’t to help Mama with the bills or put food on the table, but to pay for some hunk of junk.
He wasn’t just an asshole. He was a selfish asshole. But that was no surprise.
“You got a motorcycle?” Sara lunged ahead of me and skipped through the gate first, a stack of papers held against her chest.
“Yep.” He didn’t look away from the piece of metal that he continued to work on.
“Cool.” She admired the piece of junk for some reason, walking in a slow circle around it.
He stopped twisting a piece at his fingertips and looked over his shoulder, his eyes drifting from my tennis shoes to my face, lingering on my shorts that I suddenly felt were too tight, for way too long. My stomach rolled as I turned my eyes away from him, wishing he would focus on his motorcycle once again.
“What’s wrong, this old bike not good enough for someone like you?” He brushed the back of his greasy hand over his lips, and my breathing started to quicken. I tried not to let my fear show—it just fed the monster that lived inside him. I hated the guilt he tried to make me feel as if wanting better in life was such a bad thing.
“I didn’t say anything,” I countered, doing my best to prevent my voice from trembling. I just wanted to get away and avoid any conversation with him. I didn’t want to instigate one of his moods or cause any problems.
Thankfully, he ignored my reply, and instead, stood and brushed past me, the smell of sweat lingering in the air. That was my cue to exit, so I shuffled my feet quickly.
His old car roared to life and made its departure, the sound of the engine getting quieter as he got farther away. I let out the breath I realized I was holding and slumped down onto my bed.
One of these days, I would get out of here. I would get a good job and have a nice apartment. My place would have an air conditioner, and I wouldn’t have to worry about the refrigerator having a padlock on it, so we didn’t eat his snacks. He would be far, far away. Those were the daydreams that got me through sometimes—the days I felt like these walls were closing in on me. And again, on the nights I wasn’t able to sneak out of my window, down to our old shed and hang out with Jackson and Danny. One of these days.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Sara’s distant cries drew me from my thoughts, and I immediately launched myself off my bed in search of my sister. Fear took over my body as my feet took me to her.
I ran out the front door we never used and saw Duane holding her by her arm. Her feet shuffled along the dirt creating a cloud of dust around her as he hit her on the bottom with a switch. Guilt coursed through me, realizing my own selfish thoughts had distracted me—I never heard him come back. I should have watched Sara.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. Her arms and legs wiggled wildly in an effort to escape and avoid contact. Pain covered her face.
“Don’t touch my shit!” he roared through gritted teeth. Saliva curled along the side of his mouth, and the piece of wood made a whistling sound each time it cut through the air.
I wanted to run. I wanted to save her. I wanted to scoop her up and leave this place.
“Stop!” My command left my lips without any thought of the aftermath.
He froze the instant I spoke, then let go of Sara’s arm and dropped his switch at the same time.
“What did you say?” His eyes burned into me, and a snarl took over his face. He was waiting, hoping.
“Leave her alone.” My voice shook, but I stared right back. I was scared to death but knew this was the only way to protect Sara from his wrath.
His attention left my sister, and he began to stalk toward me, his heavy boots clapping against the sidewalk, drawing me closer to my punishment.
My eyes darted to Sara, who sat on the ground with eyes wide and full of fear. I saw the welts on her legs from the switch, and I stood a little taller, prepared to take whatever he dished out.
As soon as I was within arm’s reach, he grabbed my bicep, and his dirty nails dug into my skin. A small cry escaped my lips, causing him to tighten his oversized hand so hard I worried he’d break the bone.
“You need to learn your fucking place and stay out of shit that doesn’t concern you.” His mouth didn’t open as he spoke, his teeth grinding together. A moment later, his free hand clutched my neck, and he pressed my cheek onto the scorching, leather seat of the beat-up, old motorcycle. I didn’t make a sound as the hot seat burned my face.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him what a worthless piece of trash he was. But I didn’t. I couldn’t say a word. My body wouldn’t move. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he dug into his pocket. My lip began to tremble. He pulled out his weapon of choice, and I squeezed my eyes closed, scared to death of what was coming next.
A lighter.
I heard the flint spark but refused to look. It would be worse if I saw it and anticipated it coming. With one hand still forcing my face into the seat, the other lit the flame and moved it close to my neck. He didn’t touch me with the fire. He just got close enough for me to feel the heat along my throat. And he knew I wouldn’t move, because if I did, there would be contact. Fire was his go-to punishment. He used it frequently. I couldn’t count the times he had placed a lighter behind me, just waiting for me to jump from the heat. He considered it a game.
I suppose the devil would.
I remained a statue, tears rolling from my eyes and over my nose as he chuckled. He actually thought this was funny. The moments felt like an eternity as he waited for my response. The one I refused to give. On the inside, I panicked, the fire was so close to me. Tears were my only outlet, but those I couldn’t control.
“Little bitch,” he roared, just before his hand left my head, but not before one last shove into the searing leather.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
As soon as he left my side, I stood and ran into the house, hearing Sara’s footsteps directly behind me. Once I was in my bedroom, I threw myself onto the bed, my face still stinging from the seat. I heard the door close and felt my little sister lay beside me. I kept my eyes closed and started to sob.
“I’m sorry, Rachel. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have touched it. I’m sorry.” Her words left me feeling even more guilty. It gutted me that she thought any of this was her fault. The only person who deserved any blame was him.
“Hush. Please. I don’t want to talk about it,” I whimpered through my sniffles, unable to catch my breath.
One of these days, I would get us out of here. Sara and Mama. We couldn’t live like this forever. We just couldn’t.