Prologue
Veronica
Ten years old
"Itoldyounottotalk back to me, bitch." Daddy's angry voice shouts at Momma from the living room and my body trembles with fear. He hasn’t been home long, but he’s already mad.
“Goddamnit,” he growls angrily. “Who left the fucking LEGOs on the floor?” There's a scuffing noise before something hits the wall. The LEGOs maybe?
I gulp, my body instantly shaking, knowing it was me. Momma had told me to put them away, but I’d forgotten, excited for dinner. Now, I’ve made him mad.
“It's going to be okay, VeeVee. Don’t say anything,” Luca whispers to me, taking hold of my hand under the table, squeezing it tightly.
Daddy’s boots thud against the floor as he storms into the kitchen where Momma’s just setting his plate down. She brushes the stray hairs hanging in her face away, tucking them behind her ears.
“I’m sure it was just an accident. The kids were going to put them away as soon as they finished eating. Here, come into the kitchen and sit down before your food gets cold.” Her voice hitches, and her hands tremble. She’s lying to protect us. It’s not the first time she's done it to pull the attention to her and away from us.
“Fucking kids don’t need to be eating if they don’t clean their shit up first,” he grumbles as he drops down in his chair. “Where’s my fucking beer?”
I peek over at Daddy and see Momma smile at me. But it’s not like the ones she gives me when he’s not around. It's not happy, and it doesn’t spread across her face.
“Are you sure? How about some water?”
His fists slam down on the table, causing our glasses to jump under the force and spill milk onto the table.
Luca jumps into action, taking his napkin and quickly sopping up the white liquid before Daddy turns his anger back in our direction. More specifically, at me.
“If I wanted fucking water, I would’ve asked for it. I want a damn beer.” Then he shoots his rage-filled eyes at me and Luca. “And I want to know who left the fucking LEGOs out so I can beat your fucking ass.”
“Mark, let me get your beer while the kids take their plates to their room. I’ll make sure to clean up the living room.” Luca and I stand slowly at Momma’s words. Her subtle cue for us to leave and get out of the line of fire.
“Would you fucking shut up, bitch?” My father raises his voice at Momma. Luca takes hold of my hand, gripping tightly, pulling me from the table.
His voice echoes through the house as he shouts at Momma. He came home pissed tonight, as usual. He’s always mad about something, but tonight seems different. Worse.
Luca and I look at each other, neither of us wanting to leave her alone with him. Both of us fearful of what he’ll do to her. When he stands, picking up his chair and throws it across the room at her, I jump, screaming, before dropping to the floor. Luca rushes to my side, helping me up, nudging my shoulder. But all I can hear is the loud clap of thunderous sound as the chair misses Momma and hits the wall, a crackling sound just before the chair crashes to the floor.
“Let’s do what Momma said, VeeVee. If we stay, it’ll be worse. It always is”, he whispers in my ear. Daddy likes to make a big example out of Momma, showing us exactly what'll happen to us if we step out of line. We hurry over to the table, pick up our plates, and run to the room we share.
Daddy’s been yelling nonstop at Momma for I don’t know how long. All I know is that the long hand on Luca’s clock has moved halfway around the circle. We can hear him, but not our momma. When her voice does trickle up to us, it’s nothing but sobs as she begs him for something. Occasionally, we hear her screams. They gut me, knowing she’s in pain.
My eyes stay focused on the door, afraid that any minute he’ll get tired of hurting Momma and come for me. He never hurts Luca, even when he tries to protect me. Instead, Daddy waits until I’m alone with him to take his anger out on me. The only other thing in my view is our plates, still filled with food, abandoned on the dresser as we sit together on the bottom bunk.
"He's really mad this time." Tears stream down my face, my body trembling, remembering how he hit Momma the last time he got so mad. He broke her arm, and she had a huge bruise on her face. It was all my fault. I spilled some milk on the floor,and Daddy slipped. When he went to hit me, Momma stepped in front of me, stopping him, telling me to run to my room and lock the door.
My room has become my safe haven. But the door doesn’t always keep him out. It just makes it take a little longer for him to get to me.
"Daddy’s a fucking dick," Luca mutters. We're twins, even though he's taller than me. It used to make me mad that we weren't identical. Momma explained why we couldn’t be, and it made me feel a little better, because there’s no way I wanted to be a stinky boy. Now, instead of someone who looks exactly like me, I have a fierce protector.
"Don't let him hear you say that," I beg, not wanting Daddy to take his anger out on him. Who am I kidding? He wouldn’t—he’d take it out on me. Daddy would swear I was a bad influence on Luca. Jezebel is what he likes to call women.
"I hope he does. I'm sick of his bullshit. He thinks I'm going to be just like him." Luca reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it as our father's voice rises downstairs, just as we hear another loud thud, like someone hitting the floor.
Momma.
Please don’t let it be her. Let her be okay.
Luca stands up and tiptoes over to the door, being careful not to let it creak as he opens it just slightly. With the barrier removed, we can hear even better.
