Page 10 of The Heart That Breaks
“Not your regular school stuff,” he says, his eyes narrowed now with an intent that makes my stomach drop. “The real life kind of learning. You know, things you’ll want to know about boys.”
He places the tips of his fingers against my chest and shoves me backward into the room. I stumble a little and then right myself quickly, saying in the hardest voice I can manage, “Get out, Lance. I mean it. Get out.”
“Now why do you wanna be like that?” he says, slamming the door shut behind him with his booted foot. “After all I do around here to take care of you and your mama and that low-life dog of yours?”
I feel instantly sick, sure that I am going to vomit right here in front of him. The orange juice I drank earlier rises up, the acid burning the back of my throat.
Outside my window, Henry barks, sharp outraged barks that tell me he somehow knows I’m in danger.
Lance walks right up against me and bullies me to the side of my bed where he uses one hand to push me backwards so that I fall flat onto the mattress.
I can’t hide my fear now as much as I hate myself for it. “If you don’t get out, I’m going to scream.”
He laughs. “Oh? And who’s going to hear you? Idiot out there? Or Crazy Sadie? Which one do you think will come and save you?”
He’s just started unbuttoning his shirt when both of us hear the front door open and Mama’s voice calling out for me.
Relief rains over me in a torrential downpour. Rage floods his face, and I see him struggle to rein it in.
“Go on now,” Lance says. “See what your mama wants. You keep her in the kitchen, and I’ll slip out in a minute. We wouldn’t want to give her any reason to be jealous, would we?”
Fury propels me off the bed, and I swear it’s a good thing I don’t have a knife in my hand. Even so, I let myself imagine plunging one into his midsection as I shove past him.
Tears well in my eyes as he calls out in a soft voice, “Later, baby.”
***
MAMA HAS GROCERIES in the car, so I go out and help her bring them in. I ask how her day was without looking at her directly.
“It was good,” she says. “Where’s Lance?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I’ve been doing homework,” I say, hating myself for the lie.
We’re putting the food away in the kitchen when he walks in, freshly showered. He steps up behind Mama and kisses her on the neck. The smile that lights up her face makes me newly nauseated. I slam the box of cereal into the cupboard, leaving the door open and heading for my room, locking the door behind me. Even though I hear it click, I unlock it and then lock it again just for good measure.
*
Ann-Elizabeth
I STAND UNDER my own shower for at least half an hour. I can’t seem to get the feeling of ick off me. I scrub with soap and a washcloth until my skin starts to feel raw.
Spent, I lean against the tile wall, closing my eyes and finally letting the tears come. I cry with an anger that has absolutely no place to go other than to merge with the water sluicing across my body and falling into the drain.
I think about Nathan, the fact that he had called me pretty today. And suddenly, all of that just seems disgusting. If this is what being pretty means, that you attract monsters like Lance, I don’t want to be pretty.
I grab the razor at the corner of the tub and break its plastic enclosure in half. The blade slips out and cuts my finger. Blood spurts from the wound, the shower water instantly thinning it to a pale pink.
I am aware of how easily the sharp edge could make me anything but pretty for the rest of my life.
I press it to my face, feel the metal dent the skin and then pierce. Should I make an X? A permanent physical warning. Do not touch. Tainted.
I begin sliding it down my cheek, but pain begs me to stop.
I throw it to the floor and then sink down, hunched forward with my elbows on my knees, crying for my own cowardice and the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do.
I don’t know how long I sit there with the water raining down on me, but I do know that I feel utterly sorry for myself. Why is it that men like Lance get away with being so mean and hateful and controlling???!!!???
The question screams through my mind, and I hate my own sense of helplessness. I hate that I have to accept living here under these conditions just because Mama thinks she loves him.
