“About fucking time you got one right. Now finish your chores and start dinner. I’m fucking starving.”
Of course I’m cooking tonight, and I hope he chokes on it.
“If you’re a good boy, Uncle Tony will make you feel good again.” At his words, my body freezes for half a second before I push through as though he’d said nothing. Ignoring his veiled threat—disturbing promise—I finish off my chores and throw a few ingredients together and call it supper. Tonight, I only burned myself twice and sliced my thumb once with the knife as I tried cutting the potatoes exactly how he likes them.
I left some of my blood, then smeared it until it became impossible to see.
Him choking on my blood would be awesome.
By the time nine o’clock rolls around, I’m exhausted. Locking the door to my room even though it won’t stop him, I brush my teeth in the sink in the far corner. When I first arrived, he was proud to explain that he’d converted the attached shed into a bedroom for his guests. I don’t think the remodel cost him very much since he just pushed all his stuff to one side and added a kid-sized bed against the opposite wall.
As soon as I lie down, my mind wanders to my parents. I know better than to think they miss me. They’re too busy paying attention to themselves and each other. The law of the land was that I had to be neither seen nor heard, and for someone like me, who has a lot of energy, it meant I broke that rule all the time.
That’s when the beatings got harder and more frequent.
Which brings me to my little neighbor. My ex best friend. The traitor and reason I’m here wishing to die.
She used to be my Sweet Bee but now she’s my greatest enemy, my very own Voldemort. Everything was great until she opened her big, fat, mouth. Sure, the bruises were getting harder and harder to hide, but spending time with her was myescape. My parents didn’t give a shit where I went as long as I didn’t cause trouble.
Every day after school I’d hang out with Berkleigh, forget that I lost the lottery for decent parents, and enjoy the delicious home-cooked meals her mother made for us. Her dad worked a lot but he was nice enough.
Then everything changed.
“Where’d you get that?” Berkleigh pointed to my collarbone where a black and red circle marked the newest bruise from that morning.
“I bumped into the footrest of the bed. No big deal.” All lies. Itwasa big deal because it hurt and it was the perfect imprint of Dad’s thumb.
Next thing I knew, Child Protective Services were knocking down my door on that Saturday morning demanding I go with them.
How the fuck is this better?
Sure, Uncle Tony acts like he’s the perfect parent when CPS comes around, telling them I’m a “fine young boy” and a “hard worker, eager to help out around the house”.
Right, like I have a choice.
Wetness brings me back to the small, makeshift, room and I realize in horror that I’m crying. If Uncle Tony comes in and sees me, he’ll beat me to within an inch of my life.
Jumping out of bed, even though I’d rather just fall asleep for a day or ten, I freeze when the door handle jiggles. It’ll take him two seconds to unlock it, I know because this has become our routine.
Wiping my cheeks off with my pajama sleeves, I debate whether to run back to bed or stand my ground. Either way, it’s going to hurt.
I wake with a start, my aching torso bolting from the mattress as if an electric shock literally kicked me out of bed. It takes me a few painful seconds to realize I’m not eleven years old and I’m not back in that shed with age-worn hungry eyes leering at me like I’m prey.
My fists are gripping the sheets tightly enough to rip them to shreds and my chest is fighting for much-needed air. I know I should breathe, I’m not a fucking idiot, but the memory still fresh in my hazy mind is pushing back.
“Tanner?” The voice is a little distorted and sounds like a mixture of two moments in my life. Then and now. Him and…
“Yeah.” I clear my throat as my senses come back to the present, blinking against the darkness.
It’s her scent that steadies me, her warm touch that I welcome.
“Are you okay? Bad dream?” Fuck, she has no idea.
“Something like that.” Once I’m able to breathe normally, I turn, and like a sliver of magic, the moonlight ray pierces through the slightly opened curtain and illuminates her sleepy face. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
She’s about to roll her eyes, like waking up in the middle of the night is somehow incompatible with beauty. I frown as my eyes scan every inch of her skin. In this light, she looks almost ethereal, and like a tsunami that follows an earthquake, the memories from the last twenty-four hours come crashing down on me.
She was taken, held captive. My gaze dips to her bruised ribs, visible only because she’s gloriously naked in my bed. Our bed. Our home. Where she’ll stay because there’s no fucking worldwhere she’s going back to the hellhole she used to call home. It was void of life, just like mine was.
