Page 26 of Rules

Great. Just what I need.

“Brook, are you okay?”

“Peachy,” I mutter, squeezing past him. My body brushes against his, the space so tight I can feel every hard muscle rubbing against me. A jolt of electricity makes my whole body tremble in awareness.

Even weeks after…

My heart aches in my chest. I can push it back for a while, but it always comes back. This dull, hollow pain.

That’s what happens when you break rules. You get burned.

Don’t I know it.

I was the one who set the rules to protect myself, only to end up breaking them all. I paid my price for two of them, and before long, I know I’ll have to do it for the third too.

* * *

BROOK

BEFORE – EIGHT YEARS OLD

“You little, ungrateful brat!” Her nails dig into my skin, drawing blood. I hiss softly, unable to hold it in. “Do you know how much trouble you just put me through? My boss ripped me a new one, and he took all my tips because I had to get off work early to come and pick you up!”

“Mommy, it hurts!” I cry softly, running after her. She’s been marching since we left the nurse’s office, pulling me behind her. My short, quivering legs could barely keep up.

I hadn’t felt good this morning. One minute I was too hot, the other shivering. When I looked in the shattered mirror above the sink in our bathroom, I could clearly see that my cheeks were flushed, but I couldn’t stay home. Mom’s boyfriend was at our house, and I didn’t want to stay alone with him. The looks he’d been giving me made my skin crawl. So even sick, I’d rather be in school.

But once I got there, I felt even worse. I was drowsy, it was getting harder and harder to concentrate, and my tummy started to roll uncomfortably until I finally puked my guts out in the middle of the school cafeteria. A teacher took me to the nurse’s office, and no matter how much I begged her not to call my mom and that I’d be all right if I just took a quick nap, she wouldn’t listen.

Mom turns around abruptly, making me crash into her. Before I can gain my stance, there is awhooshof air, followed by a loudsmack. I gasp, tears stopping abruptly as the pain spreads through my cheek, coloring it in bright red.

She leans into me, wide, bloodshot eyes staring into mine, her alcohol breath touching my skin and making me more nauseous than before. “Tears won’t save you! Stop wailing and move.”

My hand covers my burning cheek, my head still turned to the side from the impact. This isn’t the first time she’s slapped me, far from it. But she’s never done it in public. I could hear some people gasp. Feel their stares pointed in our direction.

Not one person stopped.

Not one person looked twice.

They all continued with their own lives like nothing happened.

I swallowed the sob that wanted to escape. The only thing it would do is piss Mom off even more, and that wouldn’t bring me anything good.

I often wondered if things would be different if I opened up to somebody, if I told them about my mom. If I told them what’s going on. And now, finally, I had my answer.

For all her faults, she was right.

Josephine Taylor was completely, undeniably right.

Nobody cares about little white trash girls like me.

Some probably think I deserve it.

Nobody would come to my rescue.

Brushing the tears from my cheek with the back of my hand, I sniffle softly. Turning around, she continues stomping away, pulling me behind her.

Well, I don’t need them.

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