Page 7 of Hidden Truths

“I know. We should have never let it start when we walked away from her. That’s on me,” I state, resignation filling me because it’s the truth. “Kash what have you found about Bella and everythin’ else you’ve been lookin’ into?”

“Not a lot. She’s got a little brother named Vinnie now. Father unknown. Or unlisted. She works, goes to school, and tutors. There have been a few trips to the hospital to have broken bones set but no red flags were raised. We know she lives in the poor section of town now with her mother. Her mom was arrested a month ago on drug and prostitution charges. Someone bailed her out, but I haven’t been able to find out who yet.

“As far as the rest of it goes, there’s no concrete information so far on any of the deaths. I’m sure I’ll find it, but it’s gonna be buried deep as fuck. I’m not gonna stop until I find it though. You know me. Once I get stuck on somethin’, I don’t stop until I find out all the answers we want or need. I just need some more fuckin’ time to get what we want,” Kash informs us, his voice distant as he fucks around with his tablet still.

“Keep workin’ on it. I want to know who the fuck broke any bones on Bella. I’d bet it’s her fuckin’ mother, but if it was someone else, I want to know who the fuck it is. No one is gonna touch her ever again,” I tell everyone in the room. “If you see her around campus, I wanna know what she looks like and who the fuck she’s with. Think I need to have a conversation with Brock too. I want to know what his fuckin’ end game is with her. He’s spendin’ a ton of time with her.”

When no one else says anything, I get up and head for my room. I don’t want to be around anyone right now. I’m pissed and ready to explode at the slightest thing. It’s better for me to be alone and not be around everyone for the rest of the night. The only thing that will make me get out of the house again is if I hear one of them is gonna go to where she works for dinner tonight. We really try not to show up there, but at this point, I don’t give a fuck as long as I get to see her.

Collapsing on my bed, I know I’ll be getting a call from my father. He would have heard by now we didn’t have practice today. Coach got sick and had to leave early. So, I should have been in some form of training instead of sitting in the library. My father will chew me a new ass, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck. My last one flew away the second Collette sat down at a table with me. Fucking bitch!

Beating

Arabella

SCHOOL WAS ABSOLUTE hell today. My cousin is determined to make my life more miserable than it already is and there’s nothing I can do to stop her. She wouldn’t give a shit about the way I live my life or how I’m the only one making sure my little brother is taken care of. Collette wouldn’t care that I’m beaten on a regular basis and I’m in desperate need of help. Of some way out of my situation so I can take Vinnie away from the living nightmare we call life. Our life. I don’t want him to grow up around our mother and the revolving door of men she brings in our house. It’s not even a damn home because there’s no love inside the walls keeping us as safe from the elements as well as it does considering all the holes, cracks, and spots air rushes inside.

Karmen is also on a warpath for some reason. Her attacks are becoming more brutal each day and I don’t know why. I could understand if I were still friends with the guys, but they don’t even look in my direction. Hell, I barely see them around campus because it’s so large and they are older than me. Still, she goes out of her way to taunt me, spread lies, and has even gotten at least one professor to turn on me. Nothing I do is good enough in class and even when I’m right, I’m wrong in his eyes. Needless to say, I’m fucking miserable and ready to drop out. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge that it’s the only way to ensure a better future for Vinnie. A way for me to get away from this hellhole and out of High Point for good.

My ultimate goal is making sure Vinnie doesn’t have to remember the hell our mother put us through. That he never feels an ounce of pain like I do daily. It comes at me from every damn side and I don’t know how to make it go away. To stop everyone from making me feel as if I’m lower than pond scum and can come up with a way to make everyone leave me alone. I’m sure if I really looked into things, I’d be able to make Karmen and Collette back off along with their little followers. I simply don’t have the time or energy to figure out what I can use against them.

I’ve walked all the way home in the freezing cold with a coat so thin it does nothing to stop the arctic wind from running right through me. For some reason this year, the weather has an unexplainable chill in the air. One so cold I feel as if I’ll never again be warm. It would be nice to have a car of my own, but I still don’t even have my license. I’ve only got a non-driver identification used to cash my checks from work. Eventually, I’d like to learn how to drive, but there’s no one to even teach me.

There are only two bright spots in my day. Time spent with Vinnie and Brock. My brother is my entire reason for getting up every day and getting through no matter how bad it gets. The second I see Vinnie, I know what I’m doing is right. It’s going to ensure he grows up in peace and doesn’t know the exhaustion of living with our mother and her daily dramas. Brock is becoming a steady rock in my life. If he’s around, I don’t have to worry about the bullies coming for me because he puts an immediate stop to it. Plus, he makes me laugh and forget about my problems for a while on a daily basis. When I’m with him, I know I’m safe and will have a great time. If he’s around, I know I can push all of my pain to the back of my mind and forget about it for a short period of time. Brock has no clue what kind of gift he gives me every day I see him.

This is what I think about as I walk through the frigid afternoon on my way to get Vinnie from Mrs. Andrews’ house. It’s my day off and I plan on spending the rest of the day doing homework and making sure I don’t overlap on tutoring with Brock and Danny. That’s the last thing I want to happen. As long as I make sure I have a set schedule with each of them, I can also ensure my work schedule doesn’t interfere with the time I need to be at school to work with them. It’s important to me that I never let either guy feel as if I’m pushing them to the side or not taking our tutoring sessions seriously. They want my help and I’m going to be there for them as much as they need me. It’s how I do everything—always give myself to those in need because it’s my way of ensuring I’m not going to turn into my mother.

Stepping up on the porch of Mrs. Andrews’ house, I hear a loud crash from my own house next door. Mrs. Andrews opens her front door as I turn to face the place my mother moved us to. More sounds of a struggle follow and I know the man who’s been staying there for the last few days is beating the shit out of my mother for some reason. A large part of me wants to ignore the haunting sounds of her screams breaking from the crude structure we live in while another part of me needs to rush over there to help her. To make sure this man doesn’t kill her because he’s pissed off for some reason. None of them ever really have a reason for flipping that switch that turns them into monsters—it’s simply who they are.

“Arabella, don’t you do anything you shouldn’t do,” Mrs. Andrews cautions me, her voice telling me she knows what’s going through my head already.

“I have to,” I state, leaving her porch and making my way across the yard between our houses.

My heart beats frantically in my chest as I make my way carefully between our houses. The distance isn’t far, but it feels as though miles stand between my mother and me. While she might not be a good mother, it doesn’t mean I have to leave her on her own to be hurt, or worse, by some asshole who doesn’t like something. Or got his panties in a twist because she ran out of alcohol or drugs. That’s usually the reason they beat the fuck out of her after all. I will always step up when she needs me no matter how horrible she treats me because I’d want someone to do the same for me. No one ever does, but it’s still something I dream about.

I carefully step up to the front door and take a deep breath as my heart beat races even more and I take a deep breath in an attempt to get it somewhat under control. It doesn’t help, it never does. But, it doesn’t stop me from doing it all the same. Making my way inside the house, I find it completely destroyed. Everything has been ruined and there’s no salvaging anything in the living room, kitchen, and down the hallway. Not that there was ever a lot of furniture or belongings in this house, but what we had is now gone.

My mother is laying in a crumpled heap on the floor in the middle of the living room. She’s curled in a fetal position with her hands over her head. I can already see the bruises forming on her almost gray skin and the visible cuts bleeding on her exposed skin. My mother is naked as the guy who’s been here for a few days kneels down next to her body. I can’t honestly tell if she’s still breathing at this point or not. What I do notice is the knife in his hand as the small amount of sunlight coming in through the door I left open glinting off the blade. It’s one of the steak knives from our kitchen. He has it raised above his head in preparation of bringing it down somewhere on my mother’s body. That’s not gonna happen while I’m here!

Racing up behind him, I kick the knife out of his hand. The man, I never bother to learn their names, turns his face to glare at me over his shoulder. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under without hesitation.

“You little bitch!” he yells out, his voice high and nasally instead of the deep growl I was expecting. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

I know his words are a promise as his attention turns from my mother to me. In the blink of an eye, the asshole has one hand wrapped around my throat while he punches me with the other one. Like my mother, he’s naked and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they were doing before this fight broke out. I bring my hands up to try and fight back while protecting myself at the same time. For an addict, this twatwaffle is surprisingly fast in his movements with no hesitation on his part at inflicting the most damage he can in a short amount of time.

I’m unable to suck in a full breath as his hand squeezes tighter and tighter around my throat, closing off my airway. Black spots start filling my vision as the douche canoe slams me into the wall at my back. Glass and something else cuts into my skin through my clothing as a pitiful scream erupts from the pain filling my body. He finally lets go of my throat to grab a fistful of my hair. Slamming my head off the wall repeatedly, I know I’m going to have a concussion. It won’t be the first time I have one.

The fucker starts kicking out at my legs, hitting me in the exact spots necessary to give me Charlie horses. I can’t hold my own body weight up as I collapse, ripping strands of hair from my head as they remain in his fist. I don’t have a chance to curl my body up in a protective pose as he follows me down to the floor.

“Since your whore of a mother doesn’t want to give me what I want, I’ll take it from you,” he states, drool sliding down his chin as he lets his gaze roam over my body.

This gets me fighting back against him. I give everything I have to keep him from getting my clothes off my body. I’m landing punches, scratching at his face, and making sure my legs are firmly closed as he straddles my body. My eyes don’t leave him for a second as he swats my attack away and rips the shirt I’m wearing right down the middle. The tearing of the thin fabric seems to echo off the now bare walls. This man doesn’t give a shit what he has to do in order to get what he wants. He’s going to rape and beat me. There’s not a doubt in my mind that’s where this is leading as I continue to struggle.

Every part of my body hurts as I spot an old art project I did in elementary school. It’s one of the few things my mother didn’t throw out or get rid of for some reason. I have a feeling she’s been using it to store her drugs in, but I don’t give a shit about that right now. This art project is one of those clay things you were supposed to make to resemble a bowl or something along those lines. I used way too much clay so it’s thick and heavy. I stop my attack on the man and reach out for the piece. It’s just out of my reach as I try to move slightly in that direction to grab it before he realizes what I’m doing. I know it’s not going to knock him out or anything, but it will stop his assault long enough for me to hopefully get away.

Just as I go to reach it, the man lands a solid punch to my ribs. I scream out as I feel one of them crack. This man just broke at least one of my ribs, but I can’t let him get my clothes off. He’s already pawing at my chest, making my skin crawl as he attempts to rip my bra from my body. Fear fills me as I try to shut it down because I can’t afford to black out from my fear and anxiety right now. If I do, there’s no stopping this asshat from getting what he wants.

I finally manage to get my fingers around the bowl thing enough to pull it toward me. Raising my hand despite the pain filling me, I manage to slam it against the asshole’s head.

---