Page 107 of Run Away With Me

‘What did he do to you, Jessie?’

I shook my head and took a deep breath. ‘It wasn’t rape. He wasn’t touching me like that.’

I didn’t know what to tell her. ‘Rape’ was a word I knew – it was a word I understood and could contextualize. But what the Creep had done?

Instead of words, I decided to show Brooke. I handed her my drink and she set it on the nightstand so I could get up on my knees and pull off her hoodie and my T-shirt.

‘Here,’ I said, pointing to the round burns on the inside of my biceps from where he’d put his cigarettes out on my arms. I stretched my hands out to her to show the tiny crisscrossing scars on my palms, my fingers, from being shoved to the floor dozens of times. I turned my hands over to show her the weird bump on the back of my knuckle from where he’d broken my finger, then wouldn’t let me go to the hospital to get it fixed. I’d taped it up myself,following instructions online, with a homemade splint made out of popsicle sticks.

‘Jessie,’ Brooke said in a tiny voice.

I wasn’t done.

I pulled my jeans off to show her the marks on my legs, the thick burn from a hot mug of coffee thrown over the top of my bare thigh, my mangled toe from where he’d dropped a skillet on it.

‘And this is just what stuck,’ I said.

Too many of the marks, the burns, the cuts had healed into nothing. The daily whacks across the back of my head, the punches, the slaps. The words.

Fucking pathetic

Weird bitch

Ugly little rat

Dumb fucking piece of shit

Stupid waste of space

No one’s ever gonna want to fuck you

Not a single person likes you

Not even your own fucking mother

‘How did no one know?’ Brooke asked, clearly shaken up.

I shrugged. ‘I guess no one looked.’

‘Oh, Jessie,’ she sighed, her eyes full of pity, tears ready to spill.

It occurred to me then that I was sitting next to her in pretty much just my underwear, so I scrabbled for my clothes, suddenly self-conscious.

‘What was I supposed to say?’ I demanded as I zipped up my jeans. ‘My mom’s boyfriend is mean to me?’

I yanked my shirt back on, working myself up. ‘My mom’s boyfriend calls me names? It sounds pathetic, Brooke. Everyone would’ve just thought I was being a whiny kid. No one would’ve listened to me. No one ever listened to me,’ I finished, not sure if I was frustrated or angry or upset.

It wasn’t like the Creep went from nothing to breaking my finger overnight. He was charming at first, trying to win me over when he started dating my mom. I knew him from church, but most of the activities were segregated by gender, so I’d never really interacted with him much.

My mom thought he’d hung the goddamn moon.

I made an effort in the early days, mostly for my mom, because she always seemed to end up dating losers, and the Creep was nice to her. He bought her flowers and took her out to nice restaurants, and soon she was dizzy with love.

But once my mom fell for him, he made it clear to me behind her back that he didn’t want me around. I was a blot on their otherwise perfect relationship, something he needed to get rid of.

It started with words.

Stay out of the way

---