Page 41 of 4 Corinthians

In the corner of the room was a medicine cabinet where Robert kept the sedative that he used on me. That’s where we were now; he drugged me to make me comply. Otherwise, he knew that I would fight.

Logan took out a prefilled syringe, uncapped it, then approached me. He jabbed it into my neck. I closed my eyes and waited. In my dreams, I was free.

***

I kept my eyes closed until I heard the door close, then I slowly moved my hand from my face. The room was dark; I could hear people talking, but I wasn’t in the basement. Logan had left me in my room; every so often, he’d check on me and, if he felt like I needed it, give me another shot. This time he hadn’t; he’d gotten a call. Robert needed him to get a girl.

I got up from the bed and looked around. My eyes stopped on the clock on the dresser. Thunder clapped through the air, and I shook my head. I wasn’t about to waste time. I didn’t know how long Logan would be gone, and I wasn’t taking any chance of not being able to leave. Moving quicker than I probably should have, I went to my closet and got the only pair of shoes up here. My room wasn’t bare; Robert had things in here, so it looked like I used it when I was here.

I climbed out of the window and used the trellis bolted to the house to lower myself to the ground. I’d done this enough times to know where to step and grab so that I wouldn’t fall. When I got to the ground, I looked around to make sure that no one was around, then snuck along the side of the house and down the driveway. Even though it was raining, I wasn’t stopping.

I made it to the other side of town, then caught a bus. I had a thirty-minute ride to where I wanted to go. The rain stopped by the time I got to my stop. I got off, made my way through the neighborhood, eventually making my way to the blue house that sat in the middle of the block. The sky started to get dark again, and I knew the rain was about to start up. I snuck around the back of the house and tapped on the window. No one came to the window. I stood, looked around, then pushed open the window and climbed inside. The room was clean, there was nothing out of place, and it smelled like lavender. This wasn’t the first time I’d been here, but I still looked around, taking everything in as if it were my last. I knew if I got caught, I’d never be able to do this again. Robert would kill me.

I sat in the corner of the room under the window and watched Corinthians sleep. She looked peaceful, like nothing bad ever happened to her, and I wished it didn’t. She didn’t deserve the things she’d been through. I looked at the clock near her bed; it was a little after two am. In the past I’d only stayed for an hour; tonight, it would be no different. I’d been coming to check on her every chance I got since Robert had her parents killed. She never knew I was here; no one did. I always came through the window and left before anyone found me. My eyes started to close; it was like my body knew I was safe and could relax. I don’t know if it was because of lavender or because I was close to Corinthians; whichever one it was, I was good with it.

Just for a little while, I was happy because I knew she was safe.

Corinthians

“She’s got into another fight,” my teacher Mrs. Law told Madea. I’d been sent home earlier today, only for Madea to bring me back after school for a meeting.

“I’m aware,” Madea replied. “I talked to the principal.” She glanced at Mr. Marshall before turning her attention back to Mrs. Law. Mr. Marshall wasn’t going to say too much of anything. Typically, he let the teachers handle the meeting about students' behavior. He always said that he wasn’t in the classroom, so he wasn’t getting the full picture, just bits and pieces of two.

“I’m recommending that Corinthians be sent to another school.”

“Why?”

“This is her fourth fight this year,” Mrs. Law explained with a sigh. The way she looked, you would think that she was starting to take these fights personally. “She’s-“

“Corinthians doesn’t start them,” Madea cut in. I never did. “She’s never the aggressor. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t even fight back.”

“Which is the problem, Mrs. DeCorte; they know that she won't fight back. She’s walking around with a black eye and busted lip because they know that. This school isn’t safe for her.”

“She’s fine; her cousins are here.”’

“And they keep getting suspended for taking up for her; that’s not fair to them.” I never asked them to, but they did anyway. Madea and Granddaddy said we were always to stick together. “They are losing out on their education because she won't fight back. She’s allowing herself to be a punching bag. She’s a smart girl-”

“Corinthians.”

“What?” Mrs. Law’s face twisted in confusion.

“You keep saying ‘she’ instead of her name. It’s Corinthians; say her name, stop calling her she,” Madea told Mrs. Law. “Every time we discuss Corinthians, you say she, every conference, every phone call. It’s always she.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Mrs. Law denied with a shake of her head. I noticed it too, since the first day she never said my name. It was always she, her, girl, never my name.

“Of course you don’t,” Madea laughed. “Just know that I’ve noticed it; say her name or don’t say shit.”

“Mrs. DeCorte, we are here to discuss Corinthians future at this school,” Mr. Marshall said, intervening. He’d dealt with Madea enough to know she would cuss Mrs. Law out if she kept making her mad. “As Mrs. Law stated, Corinthians has been involved in multiple fights this year.”

Madea glanced at me before sighing and nodding. “I’m aware, but if she hasn’t done anything to anyone, then I don’t see the point of this conversation.”

“She needs help, professional help,” Mrs. Law replied, then sat back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Professional help?” Madea repeated with a laugh. “What exactly does that mean, Mrs. Law?”

“Look, I know in our community that’s frowned on, but she needs it, Mrs. DeCorte. She’s young, but she’s been through a lot. Her parents' death affected her more than we realize, and it’s starting to show.”

“She’s in therapy,” Madea replied. I go every Tuesday after school. I sit in my therapist's office for an hour, saying nothing, just staring out of the window while she works. She gave up on me talking a long time ago and said there was no reason even to try. Instead of pushing me, she works on notes or whatever else she needs, and I sit there. I get to just be, not worry about anything or anyone else. For an hour once a week, I get to just be quiet, and no one asks me to talk. “Has been since the day we brought her home from the funeral. All of the kids have been.”