Page 8 of Secrets

I hear her cry in my dreams.

Hear her beg.

I don’t think this is how it’s supposed to be, but I’m not sure. This could be how all mommies and daddies are. Maybe I should listen to her and stop worrying. I’m not the one with the bruises. I’m not the one with the cuts. The pain. The tears that don’t stop even when she’s wiped her face raw.

I shouldn’t worry. But I can’t help it. Somewhere deep in my belly, something pokes me. It tells me this isn’t right and I need to help. That I need to stop this.

A sharp pop rings in my ears as he slaps her hard across the face and she falls onto the couch.

I flinch, sinking into the corner of my room, wishing with all my might that I could close the door with my mind. But even if I could, it wouldn’t matter. I would still hear him. Hear her.

“You know, I take that back. At least my shit can tell me if I’m constipated, contracted salmonella, or if I’ve got colon cancer, for fuck’s sake, but you, God, you’re a damn imbecile. How many times have I told you…”

His voice fades as he drags her into the kitchen, and I plug my ears. I want to follow and help her, but I can’t. He hits her harder when I try to help. Says it’s her fault that I’m not already asleep.

I can’t sleep when he screams. He’s always screaming. She’s always crying.

Even though my heart is pounding so hard the bones covering it hurt, and my legs are shaking so bad I can barely stand, I do. I force them to take me to the bed so I can lie down. If I pull the covers over my head, maybe I can imagine I’m someplace else. Somewhere far away.

Just me and mommy, on the top of a mountain, with the sun high and the fluffiest clouds floating over us?—

A scream rings out with a low thump. I squeeze my eyes shut and hide under the blankets finding the clouds again.

Fluffy clouds that we can make shapes out of. I’ll try to spot a lion or a bear, maybe a piece of fruit or a peanut. Maybe this time Mommy could find one too.

Another scream that rips my heart in two seeps beneath the covers.

Then we’ll have a picnic. We can have s’mores and some cake, or strawberries with a little whipped cream.

She’d put a dab on my nose and we’d laugh and laugh, and I wouldn’t complain once about the thick lotion she has to put on me to protect me from the su?—

This time, when the sharp slap comes, there’s a heavy thunk, and the screams stop. The air grows quiet for a whole ten breaths before I hear something big dragging on the floor in front of my door.

My skin tingles and that spot deep in my tummy tells me something isn’t right.

No. Something is very, very wrong.

Fear fizzles in my head, but the need to see my mommy makes it to where I don’t notice it.

I need to go to her. See if everything is okay. Ifsheis okay.

Heart shaking in my chest, I push from the bed and slip out into the hall.

My toes touch something warm. Something wet.

I look down and find speckles of something dark red that looks like a melted snow cone.

Mommy bought me a cherry one before. This summer. We went to the park and there was a man selling them. He had a big smile. Such a big smile, it didn’t look natural.

Pacing feet grab my attention.

Mommy.

I decide to clean the snow cone mess later before Daddy sees and continue down the hall. When I get to the end, I realize the door is open. Light spills into the dark hall, the yellow color glowing on the floor like quicksand.

Still, I tiptoe forward.

It takes twelve more shaky breaths before I reach the door.

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