“I’m sorry,” Pike eventually says as we stand on the sidewalk hugging. “But you’re not alone. You have me.”
He’s right. He’s the only one I have, but he’s a twelve-year-old boy, and next year he’ll be at the middle school, leaving me here alone. Alone with kids that don’t like me.
When he draws back and looks down at me, I cringe at the greenish tint left over from the black eye Carl gave him the other day. I learned fast that when Bobbi is around, Carl is semi-pleasant, but the moment she leaves, he starts drinking. I try to hide and be invisible when he drinks because he’s scary to be around. He yells a lot, and if Pike and I make too much noise, he gets really mad and usually hits us.
My first slap came a week after I got here. Bobbi left for the weekend and Carl was downstairs watching TV while I was upstairs. I found a radio on the top shelf of the closet in my room and was standing on a chair to get it down, but I slipped, causing the chair to tip over and the radio to crash to the floor. Carl busted through my door and saw the broken radio. Before I knew what was happening, he had yanked me up by the arm and slapped me across the face. The burning sting held to the skin of my cheek as I cried into my pillow afterward.
Pike and I take our time walking home, but when we get to our street, Bobbi’s car is gone, and only Carl’s truck is in front of the house. My stomach sinks. It’s the weekend, so I’m sure it’ll just be the three of us. Bobbi never tells us when she’s leaving, but lately, it seems to be all the time. She’s never home anymore.
“Just go straight to your room,” Pike tells me as we walk to the front door. “I’ll grab you a snack and bring it up.”
“Okay.”
But that wouldn’t happen. Instead, I was about to be introduced to a black hole that would claim another piece of my faith in human decency.
“Where the hell have you kids been?” Carl yells at us when we walk in, and the gravel in his voice makes me cling to Pike’s arm in fear.
“I had detention. I told Elizabeth to wait for me so she wouldn’t have to walk home alone,” Pike explains.
“You think I have all the goddamn time in the world to be wondering where you shits are?” he shouts and then grabs Pike by his shirt, ripping him out from my hold on his arm and shoving him away from me. He then gets in my face, stinking of beer and cigarettes.
“And you . . .” he spits as I start to cry, which does nothing but piss him off even more. “Fuck! Why are you always f**kin’ crying? I’m not gonna spend another weekend here with you listening to this shit.” When he lifts his dirty shirt and starts to unbuckle his belt, the chills of fear run rampant, spiking through my veins.
Pike bolts off the floor and goes after Carl, but it only takes one hit to knock Pike back, and Carl has his hand locked around my wrist as I scream and thrash. Suddenly, he has me lifted off the ground with a firm hold around my waist.
“Let me go!” I scream. “Stop! Let me go!”
I hear a crash, and when I look up through my tears, I see I’ve kicked over a couple of Bobbi’s ducks and have broken them.
“You little shit!” he yells, but it’s blended with Pike’s screams as well, and I panic. Sheer panic.
Screaming, crying, kicking, and the next thing I know, I’m being shoved into the small hallway closet. Carl throws me hard against the floor and then pulls me up by my wrists, using his belt to tie me up to the lower garment bar. Everything is a chaotic blur. Everyone is yelling, and the terror in my body is making it hard for me to breathe through my shrieking cries for help. I hear Pike, and I hold on to his voice when Carl’s fist smashes into my face.
SLAM.
LOCK.
Darkness.
“No! Let me out!” I cry. “Pike, help me! Let me out! Please!”
I can hear the beating Pike is getting now. Grunting. Heaving. Screaming. I twist and yank my wrists, trying to free myself, but the leather is biting into my skin, and I’m only hurting myself. The side of my face where he hit me pulses in beats of hot pain, and I fall onto my bottom with my arms pulled above my head and cry. I cry for what feels like years in the darkness.
My body grows tired and weak. Arms cold and tingly. I stand up, wedging myself between the wall and the garment rod, and I can feel the warmth flowing back through my arms to my hands. I try wriggling my fingers around to grab on to the strap of leather, but it’s too dark to see anything and my fingers are too small. What would I do anyway? Unstrap myself and walk out of here? Carl would kill me, so what’s the point in trying?
I listen to the faint sound of the TV in the living room as my head starts to droop. I’m so sleepy, but my arms hurt too bad when I sit, and I can’t sleep standing up. Not sure what to do, I remain wedged against the wall while I keep jerking out of sleep when my head falls. My mind is a haze. I try resting myself in the corner, but can’t find any comfortable position. Soon enough, I hear the sounds of the TV shut off and listen as Carl walks out of the room.
Oh my God. He’s not gonna let me out.
Tears fall, burning my skin on the way down my face, and I can only assume that Carl split my skin when he punched me, but nothing can stop them from falling down my cheeks.
WAKING UP, MY arms are freezing. I must have fallen because I’m now sitting on the floor. I have no idea if it’s night or day, and the urge to go to the bathroom is overwhelming. When I stand up to relieve the pain in my arms, I press my legs together to keep myself from peeing. I begin to cry, wondering what I’m supposed to do, but in that very moment, I hear Pike on the other side of the door.