Page 79 of When The Mountains Held Us

“How many times do I have to remind you that you are not your father?” Justin asks, sighing, already knowing where my mind has gone.

His eyes burn a hole into the side of my face but I don’t take my eyes off the road, and I don’t respond.

Of course I’m not my father. I know this, but that doesn’t mean that there is any less of the monster in me than was in him.

Justin takes a deep breath, letting it out on a long exhale before continuing. “I know you don’t believe me, and that’s fine. All I’m trying to get you to understand is that nothing that happened was your fault, and I think you know that. You did what had to be done to protect yourself and your family. No one faults you for that. But you can’t keep letting it hold you back from chasing after the happiness you know deep down you deserve. When are you going to stop punishing yourself?”

Justin knows about what happened that night, being the one to find me sitting there in the corner of the living room, knees drawn to my chest, my fists covered in blood and resting atop my folded knees. He had come over after school to drop off the textbook I’d left in my last class, and walked right into a scene from hell.

My unconscious father on the floor, face unrecognizable through all the blood. My mom had taken Eva to soccer practice, but they were due home at any minute.

And me? Sixteen-year-old me was sitting there, cowering in the corner like a scared animal, dazed and in shock.

I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches as the memories of that night, that I’ve managed to keep at bay until now, come flooding back.

Dad had come home drunk, again, and was spewing his bullshit about the mess of mail on the counter and my bookbag on the ground by the dining room table.

My father, violent as he was, was a meticulous man. Everything had a place and was expected to be spotless when he stepped foot in the house, despite his less-than-stellar appearance ninety percent of the time.

I recall the blows to my chest and stomach like it was yesterday, the throbbing ache of hit after hit on top of healing bruises.

Something in me snapped. I was sick and tired of being this man’s punching bag. Sick of laying witness to the abuse he put my mom and sister through, too. The nauseating thought of allowing it to continue for even one more minute left me with little choice. My sister was getting older, and I saw the way he looked at her, saw the way his eyes followed her up the stairs, or how they zeroed in on the hem of her pajama shorts.

I’d had enough.

I knew what needed to be done.

Once the dam broke, there was no stopping the flood of rage that came barreling out of me as I let my fists fly, not stopping even once he was unconscious on the floor beneath me.

I’m not sure what it was that finally pulled me off of him, but one minute my fists were flailing, and the next, they hung suspended in the air above him. Sudden recognition quickly drained the color from my face, before vomit spewed from my lips as I rushed to clamber off of his limp body.

That was my first and only meeting with the monster inside me. I was like an abused and caged animal, finally biting back for the first time when threatened.

Justin had a look of utter shock on his face when he walked in on the carnage, dropping the textbook in his hands to the ground with a resounding thud, but, despite that, he didn’t panic. He set his jaw, made a quick call to his father, Sheriff Hadley, and then sat with me until the cops came.

I thought for sure I was going to be arrested, but didn’t have it in me to give a shit. I just kept staring blankly at the evidence of my anger until Justin’s dad pulled me up and out of the house.

The events that followed were a blur. All I know is I never saw my father again.

“It’s not that easy,” I argue.

“No, it’s not, but it’s also not impossible. Look, you were dealt a shitty hand. You had to make adult decisions when you were way too young. But you protected Eva, you protected your mom, and you protected yourself. You did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.”

We drive in silence the rest of the way back to North Creek, Justin sitting with me while I quietly contemplate his words.

You did what you had to do to survive. No one faults you for that.

If that’s true, then why do I?

Thirty-Nine

Oakley

Jessie left early the morning following our impromptu sleepover, and despite the extra hours I got to spend with her, I was sad to see her leave. When was the last time I had uninterrupted girl time? If you don’t count the late night study sessions with the girls from school, it’s been years.

Shortly before Jessie left, I got a text from Cliff. Apparently, someone messed up and double-scheduled me and Layla, so I’m not needed tonight after all.

I should be upset about missing out on the potential money, but I’m exhausted today, having spent way too much time talking and giggling with Jessie to have actually gotten any real sleep.