I’m having a panic attack.
I can barely breathe.
So, I go to the only place I know I will be welcomed with open arms.
As I walk in,I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone I might know. It’s only seven, so it’s relatively quiet.
When I approach Howie, he’s sitting on his bed with his head hanging.
“About time you came…” He starts, but when he sees my face, he sucks in a breath, “Lina, what?—”
I start to sob, not giving a fuck about the people around us, still asleep when I sit next to him on the bed and wrap my armsaround his waist. Howie pulls me close, one hand on my back and the other cupping the back of my head.
He pulls away, concern and worry written all over his face as he asks, “What happened? What did he do? Are you okay?”
Howie is the only one besides Chiara who knows about Roberto’s abuse. I never explicitly told him, but he has seen the evidence more than enough.
It’s no secret in the neighborhood that Roberto is a piece of shit.
“No,” I whisper, clutching his shirt tightly in my fist behind his back, going back to sobbing into his shoulder uncontrollably. He tries to comfort me, rubbing my back, but my emotions are overwhelming. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired. My soul is tired. I wake up every fucking day to fight the same fucking battle, and it only leads to more pain.”
“Shh…” he coos, stroking my hair.
“They can’t expect that from me. It’s too much. I tried, I did, but I can’t keep doing this for two more years, Howie. I’m not strong enough.”
“Who expects that?” he asks.
“My parents,” I whisper. “They’re gone, so I have to take care of her because I’m the big sister. Keep her safe. Not let him hurt her.” I sob again. “And who keeps me safe? Who cares for me?” I struggle to breathe. “Who stops him from hurting me?”
“What did he do, Carolina,” Howie asks again, leaning back to look at me. There is a sheen of tears in his own eyes.
I pull back the sleeve of my hoodie, hissing when it presses on the wound. I put some bandages to cover it, so I open them, pulling them off. Howie sucks in a breath when my arm is completely revealed. The cuts are angry and red, and his eyes bolt up to find mine. Tears still flowing, I bite down on my lips, but my breathing is not as panicked as before.
He takes the bandage, wraps my arm up again, and pulls the sleeve of my hoodie down, careful not to hurt me with it. “Did you sleep, kid?” he asks gently. I shake my head in response. “Let’s take care of the basics first before we tackle the big problems,” he suggests.
He sits on the bed and scoots over, his back against the headboard. He sits on the covers but opens them beside him, inviting me to lie down. With my back to him, I curl up on my side, and he arranges the covers over me.
He starts humming “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” while petting my head. As my tears continue to flow, my breathing evens out, and eventually, I cry myself to sleep next to him, finding a brief moment of comfort.
When I wake,Howie is still there, sitting next to me, lost in thought, until he notices I’m awake and turns his head toward me.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
Surprisingly, I do feel a bit better. The pain in my arm still lingers as does the weight on my chest, but the overwhelming despair has subsided.
“Seems like it,” I say, sitting up. “I’m sorry, I panicked. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just…”
“Shh…” Howie soothes. “You had every right to be afraid. We won’t dismiss what he did to you.”
“You’re right. I needed a break and some sleep. I’ve been going on just a few hours every night for too long.” I nod.
“Lina, that’s not…” Howie starts.
“No, it’s okay,” I insist, not wanting to burden him further. “I can handle it. It’s nothing new. It’s my fault for not being more careful, for not wearing more clothes, for not avoiding him.”
“It’s not your fucking fault!” Howie’s voice rises, his gaze intense.
“I know,” I whisper, tears welling up again. “But what else can I do? There’s no other way but to endure it.”
