Page 16 of Sick Little Devotion

“Ron needs to go back to the pool house,” my mother says, although I immediately notice the shift in her tone. She’s a doormat to my stepfather, and for good reason. Any time she stands up to him, she comes out of it needing an extra amount of concealer.

“Why are you in here?” Will asks Ron, and in that moment, the similarities in their faces are obvious. They’re both oval-shaped with a ruddy complexion, and I have no idea what my mother has ever seen in Will.

“Water’s not working in the pool house,” Ron replies, but he doesn’t sound as brave anymore, either.

“Yes, it is.” Will pushes past my mother, jarring her body as he does. “Why’re you really in here? I gave you permission to come in here only when I'm not around, didn't I?”

“They baited me,” Ron reasons, glaring at the two of us. His eyes bounce between my mother and me, and he gestures to his pants. “You can see it for yourself.”

Will’s eyes widen. “My wife baited you?”

Oh no, no, no…

“She didn’t. I caught him outside of the girls’ room,” I speak up, ignoring the way my voice wavers. “Please. That’s not what happened. I caught him outside of the girls—”

“Shut up, Sahara,” my stepfather sneers at me.

“She didn’t do anything,” I cry out, but it’s too late. Will shifts his attention to my mother, rears his hand back, and slaps her. The sound of his palm connecting with the side of her face makes my stomach sick. I should’ve just gone into the girls’ room and never let this happen.

“You stupid whore,” he growls as he grabs ahold of her, shaking her hard by her shoulders. I lunge for Will, ignoring the way my mother shakes her head at me. Blood runs from her nostrils to her lips, and her eyes are hazy.

My head starts to spin as Ron slips back down the hallway, escaping the chaos that’s his fucking fault. Between the heartache that’s fresh again and watching Will beat down my mother for the hundredth time…

I explode.

“Leave her alone,” I scream at Will, my fingernails digging into the skin of his forearm. “She didn’t do anything!”

My attack shocks Will so much that he lets go of my mother, and she falls to the floor, her head in her hands. My heart skips a beat as he slings his thick arm, sending me backwards. My back slams into the wall, knocking the breath out of me.

Then the bedroom door opens.

“Go back inside,” I say quickly to Eliza as Will comes for me. I ignore the terror on her face as Will rears back once again, and this time—for the first time in my life—he hits me. Pain sears down my jaw, my eyes instantly watering as I see stars. The man might use the flat of his hand, but it’s with a force that might as well be a punch.

I suck for oxygen as my entire head begins to tingle. Oh my God, how does she handle this day after day… No wonder she drinks.

“That’ll learn you,” Will scoffs, spitting in my direction as a whimper slips from my throat. “Always known you were no better than your mother.” He spins on his heels and disappears down the hallway, leaving us there.

“Mom…”

She ignores me, pulling up the collar of her T-shirt to soak up the blood. Then she pushes herself to her feet, ignoring my gaze, and stumbles toward her bedroom. I know she’s going for a drink, and I don’t blame her. I understand the draw of the numbness it can provide.

It’s tempting.

It really is, but I don’t want to get lost in a vice.

I might never get out.

I take a deep breath, my head still pounding. The girls’ door is closed, though I don’t know when Eliza shut the door. I close my eyes for a few moments, listening to the throb in the side of my head. Is this what it’s going to be like now? Am I now free game for Will to take out his anger on?

Shuddering, I reach for the girls’ doorknob and turn it. It’s unlocked, as it should not be, and I push it open. All three are sitting with Eliza on her full-sized bed versus asleep in the two bunk beds on the other side of the room.

“Are you okay?” Eliza whispers, her face squinched and strained.

“We heard it,” Lilly adds, her blonde hair a mess around her delicate face. She’s only thirteen, and she’s beautiful—more beautiful than most. I know Ron gawks at her just as much as he does Eliza. The thought makes me sick.

“Sara?” Briar, the youngest at eleven, rubs her arms. “Please talk.”

“Sorry.” The word comes out thick and awkward. My face is tingling, and my left cheek burns while also strangely feeling numb. “I’m okay.”