My body collapsed onto the worn-out carpet, and I hollered out in pain, trying to gasp for breath at the same time I attempted to extinguish the hellacious burning pain coming from my skin. Black rubber was all I saw as Randy brought his foot down, violently kicking me in my ribs, knocking all the air out of my lungs.
“Get grades like that again, and this boot will go straight up your ass.”
“She said you couldn’t hurt me,” I gasped out, clutching my side, trying to push past the throbbing pain and act as strong as I could, even though his kick literally weakened me.
One of these days, I’m going to kill him.
Triumphantly, Randy walked away, sitting back down in his chair as he turned to his wife, who now had widened, fear-filled eyes. The bitch didn’t even look sorry that he kicked me, more afraid she was going to lose her purse fund. Because that’s what they did with the State’s money—fund her ever growing purse collection.
“Get me a fucking beer,” he ordered her.
She nodded her head in submission and quickly left the room. My fingers clutched the strands of carpet as I tried to stand. When I finally dredged myself up from the ground, he smirked, lighting up another cigarette just as Alisha placed his beer in his palm.
“Couldn’t even bother opening it for me, Alisha? You’re so fucking useless sometimes.” His mammoth hands easily turned the cap before he pulled the vile liquid up to his lips.
There were always beers and cigarettes involved in the foster care world, at least from my experience, just like there was always someone out there looking for another paycheck who wasn’t really interested in finding kids for them to love.
“I’m sorry, Randy,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving the floor.
“Why don’t you go do the dishes? They’re starting to pile up. And as for you,” he growled, turning toward me. “Might want to study and bring up those grades, Boy. If I see them that low again, there will be more of that in your fucking future,” he said, motioning to my arm with a satisfied sneer. I rubbed at the spot and hissed when I pulled up some of the seared skin. “Now get the fuck out of my way. You’re blocking my view of the game.”
I didn’t linger there any longer. Instead, I made a quick dash out of the room, immediately running to the small room they provided for me to sleep in. I’ve seen closets bigger than the room they set me up in. The small living space had a single twin bed, frayed blue curtains and a sickly baby blue wall that looked like it was meant for a newborn baby, not someone who was surfing the age of sixteen. Joey’s room was quite a bit larger than mine and was even decorated like it was fit for a teenage girl. It was like Mr. Sinclair was dead set on giving her whatever she wanted, and it wasn’t until later that night that I finally found out why.
Being woken up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night is pretty normal for me. I had a hard time sleeping in the first place, and it was even harder when I was living in a new foster home. We’d been here for over six months, and my sixteenth birthday was only a few months away. I didn’t expect a big party or anything like that. I just wanted to be able to spend time with my sister and hang out just the two of us.
“You’re late…” a deep voice boomed from the living room.
My sister’s voice filtered in, and I could sense the fear wobbling through her. “I know, Mr. Sinclair, I’m sorry. The boss wanted me to close because another girl called in tonight.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you call home then and let us know? Do you think you can just come and go as you please, Joey? Do you think this is some halfway house? You were with him again, weren’t you?” he bellowed.
“NO!” Joey fought back, squeaking when it sounded like he grabbed her.
The protective brother inside me cracked open my door, watching the scene play out in the living room without giving away my position. If he hurt my sister, I’d kill him. That was one fact I did know. Blood dripped from my hand as my nails bit into the soft flesh of my palm, anger bristling my backbone as Mr. Sinclair grabbed Joey by the arms and began to shake her.
“Don’t lie to me, bitch. I can smell his fucking cheap cologne on you. You’re nothing more than a fucking little whore.”
“I didn’t do anything!” she challenged. “Stop telling me I did.”
“I told you what would happen if you were late again, Joey. This is the third time this week and now a punishment needs to be paid.” The rage in Mr. Sinclair’s eyes was insane. This man seemed to radiate with anger, the veins in his arms bulging, his eyes bugging out like he was ready to pop. An evil, vile smile crossed his lips before he threw her to the floor, taking off his belt as he started marching straight toward my room.
“No!” she screamed. “Don’t hurt him, please!” she pleaded. But it wasn’t for her own life… she was pleading for mine. “I’ll do anything you want, just please, don’t hurt my brother.”
Mr. Sinclair stopped a few feet from my door, his chest rising and falling with each angry puff. “Anything?” he growled. “Anything leaves options open I don’t think you’re ready for, pretty girl.”
She looked down at the floor. “If you leave my brother alone, I’ll do anything you want. But only if you promise not to hurt him.”
He looked at my door while grabbing the front of his pants so he could adjust himself. That sick fuck was getting a hard-on! A hard-on for my fucking sister.
“You’re seventeen, Joey. Did you know that the age of consent in Texas is seventeen?” His smirk was vile and filthy and dripped of impure thoughts. I fucking hated him for looking at her that way.
“I know,” she said, ashamed.
“No!” I whispered under my breath. “Don’t do it, Joey. Please. I can take it. I know I can.”
But instead of Mr. Sinclair continuing his trek to my room, he turned, motioning for my sister to follow him into her room. Mrs. Sinclair took sleeping pills at night, so there was no chance of her waking up to hear this.
Fuck! My sister only had me right now.
