Thorn: Age 6
Ican’t take the screams. He’s beating my sister again, I wish there was something I could do, but I’m just too little. I try to bury my head in the pillow, but nothing can muffle her screams. It’s loud and wrenching; she’s in a lot of pain.
I hear the door open and shut, but I don’t move, not until I feel a soft hand on me. I jump but compose myself enough to take a peek.
Briar looks awful, her eyes red with tears. She tries to smile, but her lip is split.
“Thorn,” she whispers as I crawl into her lap, letting her hold me.
She needs this, and I let her. Someday, I’ll be big enough to take care of us both.
“Hey.” We both turn our heads to see Lennon leaping through the window. “Fuck, Rose.”
Lennon calls Briar Rose. It’s his special nickname for her. She always smiles when he uses it.
“I’m all right,” my sister says softly.
She won’t ever say she’s not. I’ll let her have her lies, for now, so will Lennon.
“I brought you guys some sandwiches,” he says, sitting on the floor and pulling out sandwiches and chips for us.
We hardly eat, our parents don’t feed us, we have to fend for ourselves. Lennon brings us treats or food. I slip down to the floor and grab a sandwich as my stomach grumbles. This will be the first time we’ve eaten today.
“What happened?” Lennon asks, taking Briar’s chin and moving her head around, inspecting.
“Another drunken beating. He said that we were in the way.” She shrugs.
“Fuck,” he says.
I notice the marks on his throat like someone choked him. The horrors I’ve seen in my short life would leave others with nightmares. I have nightmares, so does Briar. Most nights, we wake up screaming and just hold each other or Lennon is holding us. He’s like a big security blanket even though his life isn’t great either.
“I’m all right. Hopefully soon, I’ll be able to leave,” she says, and Lennon nods. I pray that day comes soon.
“I’ve been taking boxing classes at the gym. I could show you some defensive moves,” Lennon offers.
“I don’t know,” Briar hesitates.
“Can you teach me?” I ask as Lennon turns to me.
“Sure, little dude,” he says with a grin.
“Thorn,” she hedges.
“It’ll be good for him,” Lennon says, tracing a finger down my sister’s face.
I think he’s sweet on her, but they’re still young. I might be only six, but I know stuff and I know he likes her. Though after what Briar’s been through, she’s had to grow up quickly too.
She’s always looking out for me.
“It’ll do you some good to know some moves too,” he says. “Someday, I’m going to be an MMA champion.”
“Me too,” I chime in.
“Yeah, little dude, I know you will be.” He grins as he pops a chip into his mouth.
This is probably one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten.
Lennon: Age 14