Page 7 of Protect

“That better be true,” Dimitri warns, grabs the laptop from his bag, and places it on Jared.

I continue to stand over him, panting as I stare down. I pat his cheek hard enough for it to be a slap, then lean down. “You better not be lying, Jared. Ineverforget people who wrong me or my girl.”

“I’m not lying,” he groans and grabs the laptop to log in. “Here it is, but I didn’t… I only got the log-in a few weeks ago.” He slides the laptop to Dimitri, whose eyes widen slightly before he slams the laptop shut again.

“Let’s go,” he mutters and hurries out.

Three

KNOX

When I get to Coach’s house, I just stare. Not a single light on. The grass is overgrown. The whole thing looks like it’sbeen forgotten. I walk in anyway, grabbing the spare key from where he’s always kept it under a pot with a rotten plant in it.

It’s obviously empty. The layer of dust says it all. I didn’t expect him to come back here. He knew this was the first place any of us would look. I turn on the lights since the sun is going down, then trash the place as I look for anything I can use. I rip drawers out and look at the bottoms. I clear off the fridge. I destroy Coach’s room the way I wish I could destroy him.

Once the house looks like it’s been ransacked and robbed, I’m left panting with no answers and nothing to use going forward. My eyes flick across the hall from Coach’s room to Hope’s.

Something itches under my skin. I open the door and turn on the light, pausing as I drink it in. It looks exactly the same as it used to. It’s a fucking time capsule. I search her room more gently. I notice some bottles rolled under her bed, but that’s the only thing out of place until I check her desk. I find a false bottom in a drawer, then unearth her diary there.

The latch on it looks like it’s survived plenty of attempts to open it, but I use a pocket knife to fix that. Maybe she has answers and didn’t even realize it.

Taking a breath, I start to read the first entry.

I don’t know how I’m going to go to school like this. Everyone will know.

I feel different and everything hurts. I thought he was coming to tuck me in, to apologize for yelling at me, anything a normal dad would do. Then I smelled the alcohol on his breath.

Fathers aren’t supposed to touch their daughters like that. Fathers don’t hit them when they try to run. Fathers don’t climb into their daughters’ beds, shove a sock in their mouths to stop the screaming and…

Even after three showers, I don’t feel clean. I stripped all the sheets off my bed. There’s blood on them and I can’t look atthem the same way. Is this why Mom left? But why didn’t she take me?

I’ll find a way to make it okay. It’s just one more thing he stole from me. Virginity doesn’t matter, it’s nothing compared to him taking away my house key so I can’t leave without permission. Nothing compared to making my friends a privilege and taking them away.

But this hurts. Closing my legs just reminds me of it all over again. He said he wanted it to hurt so I’d remember. But it’s only supposed to hurt when it’s bad, when it’s a crime.

I flip the page as I stand from her bed. I can’t read that. It drags up too much, reminds me of all the times I was sure and even she said she wanted it. I flip a few pages until I see my name. My stomach churns, but I stop to read anyway, now standing against her desk.

Knox is big and strong. His friends are strong too. They’ll be big enough to get me out of here. Even if they heard the rumors… I can use that to get them alone, right? Dad can’t stop it. He likes them. But he doesn’t want them to know the truth.

But they can never believe what he says—that I started it. They’re smarter than that. They’ll help me. I just have to get them alone. They can’t be as terrible as my dad.

Two days later and another entry.

Why doesn’t anyone believe me? Why can’t they see how he watches me? Why do they just believe him? I can’t really be so terrible. I can’t be asking for it. I wear as much clothing as possible. I try to be small. I try to ignore everything else around me.

He’s going to be mad tonight. I don’t know if the chair under my door will matter.

I take a slow breath. My hands shake until the words squirm.

Reading her diary is too much. It makes me feel wrong and dirty. It was so obvious looking back. It was obvious she washiding away. The way she’d hide her face when he put her on his lap. The fact she only acted on orders. He’d tell her to be happy, to remember how sweet he was to her, how he took care of her.

She saw us and saw help. She saw freedom and an end to everything she was shouldering and instead…

Mrs. Ray didn’t believe me. She said to stop causing problems.

She’d said to come to her if there were problems, if I needed to talk, but she looked at me like I was trying to ruin her life by asking for her help with this. Is there just something wrong about me? Or have the rumors gotten to the teachers too? I don’t even know how my dad has done it, how everyone keeps choosing his side.

Maybe if I escaped the house with shorts and a t-shirt they’d believe me. No one can argue with this many bruises. Especially in the shape of his hands. I even got a voice recording. I say no.

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