Page 2 of Ruthless Chaos
Her eyes are sympathetic, even though I know she’s aflame on the inside.
“You were a child, Allie. You did what children do.”
I look away from her and out the nearby window.
In the distance, beyond the sprawling green gardens, the surface of the lake glimmers. Perhaps Dolores is right and I did do what a child would do.
But my father did what most parents wouldn’t
Her screams from that day still haunt my dreams. There was blood—so much blood. It was on her dress, on the floor. The hallway where it happened smelled like bleach and disinfectant for days afterward. The other housekeepers avoided me for weeks. I thought I had killed her.
When she came back, I was happy. But she’s been different ever since then. The ugly scar from my father’s knife stretches from her cheek to her neck and she can’t speak anymore.
I’ll never be able to hear her laugh again.
“I wish it never happened,” I sign.
Dolores’ smile is sad. “Just don’t do anything to upset your father and it won’t happen again.” Her words are meant to cheer me up, but they only make me sink deeper.
My eyes drift to the window again, a lump forming in my throat.
There’s truth to her words, but I can’t do that. I only hope this time my father takes out his anger on me. It’s the threat of his violence that has stopped me from telling Dolores about my plan.
If she doesn’t know, he can’t blame her for withholding information from him.
“Do you know what time he will get here?”
My father and I barely speak when he isn’t home.
The staff always seem to know more about his whereabouts than I do. Because Dolores and I are so close, they try to keep their conversations secret, but that doesn’t stop her from eavesdropping.
She tells me that they often forget she’s around because she can’t speak.
“He’ll be home before dinner. Marie started making his favorite dessert earlier than she usually does.”
I nod, filing away the information.
Whenever my father is home, he usually insists we take dinner together in his study. It’s an all-around uncomfortable experience for me, but he seems to enjoy it. I think it gives him the illusion that we’re a functional family.
Dinner will give me the privacy I need to have the conversation I’ve been rehearsing in my head ever since my acceptance letter came in.
It’s like a fever dream. I got accepted into Harvard to study law. It feels like my very own real-life version of Legally Blonde—if Elle Woods was a five-foot-four socially awkward black girl, that is.
If anybody asked, I would tell them I applied as a joke.
Deep down though, I knew that Harvard application was my only chance at something other than the life my father had planned for me. All my life, he’s kept me locked up like a prisoner—moving from place to place with a cast of tutors to homeschool me.
The only reason I even got that semester in high school last year was because the state mandated it as part of my homeschool curriculum.
Harvard is my chance at normalcy.
A chance for me to experience life as a young adult instead of pining away for it while I watch TV characters live out my wildest dreams. I want to feel the rain on my face in a strange town. I want to be able to make a friend without fearing that my father will find them and hurt them eventually.
I want to be free.
Today, I’ll tell him and face the consequences.
The sound of dishes clanking together pulls me out of my thoughts. Beside me, Dolores is stacking the empty dishes from my breakfast.
