But I’m not.
I’m not sure I’ve been okay for years.
The more I drove, the more I thought about Trey’s reaction to my father. He didn’t do anything wrong, but it reminds me why letting him get too close is dangerous.
I’ve done my best to just pay Daryl and stay off his radar since I was old enough to know better. He’s cruel, crass, and doesn’tcare about anyone but himself. I was worried Trey moving in—the whole town talking about us—would set him off. And clearly, I was right to worry.
I crawl under my covers as my mind races through all the worst-case scenarios. But I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. I fall asleep quickly.
When I got home from school, my mom was the only one here. Now the house is full of people and loud music. It’s late. The sun set a long time ago, but the music keeps me up. It’s too cold to sleep in the garage, so I’m stuck in the house with strangers.
I’m leaving the kitchen after getting a drink of water—anattempt to fill my empty stomach—when I bump into Dad. He shoves me back, sending me crashing into the table. A funny-looking glass and plate hit the floor and shatter. “You fuckin’ brat! Look what you did!” he screams at me.
My eyes fill with tears as I back away. I look around in a panic for my mother, but I don’t see her. “I–I–I’m sorry,” I stutter. He’s mad, and he scares me when he’s mad.
“Get over here.” He reaches me in two strides and grabs me by my hair.
I cry out, but he doesn’t stop.
He drags me down the hallway. “I’ve told you before to stay out of the fuckin’ way, but you don’t learn. You’re just as stupid as your mother.” Spit hits me in the side of the face as he shakes my small form.
I don’t respond. I’m crying too hard, and he’s hurting me.
He opens the hall closet door and throws me in. My back and head smack the wall as he slams the door shut. My side hurts where I hit it on the table. Some of my hair he pulled out lays clumped on the floor in front of me.
I don’t know how long I sit, crying. When I finally calm down, I stand, planning to sneak out of the closet and down the hall to hide in one of the bedrooms.
The handle doesn’t turn.
No, no, no.
I push as hard as I can, but it doesn’t move. He locked me in here.
Panic sets in, and I start banging on the door. “Let me out! Mom! Dad!” I push and push, but the door doesn’t budge. “Please, someone let me out! I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll stay away, just let me out!” I cry and cry, but no one comes.
“Jessie!”
I can’t get out. I need out.
“Jessie, wake up. It’s okay, wake up.”
Please, let me out!
Warm hands are gentle on my shoulders. Blankets wrapped around my legs. Trey’s voice. My eyes snap open, pulling me out of the nightmare.
Tears already streak down my cheeks, and a sob erupts from my chest before I can stop it.
“Hey, hey,” he soothes. He lies down next to me and wraps me in his arms. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. It was just a dream. I’m right here.” Trey holds me until I calm down. My head is tucked into his chest; his cheek rests on top of my head as he rubs comforting strokes up and down my back.
He smells like mint and laundry soap. I breathe him in, letting it ground me. I haven’t had a nightmare that bad in years. I used to have them several times a week, and Gran would come into my room, crawl in bed with me and hold me until I fell back asleep.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” I say, my voice scratchy from screaming in my sleep. I scoot out of his arms and sit up, putting distance between us.
He pushes up and leans against the headboard. “It’s alright. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
No. No, I don’t. But at this moment, I’m weak, and I want him to stay.
“No, but . . . will you . . ." My heart rate picks back up, and I can’t finish my sentence, but I don’t have to.
