Thorn: Age 8
Today was rough. Around lunchtime, my father took Briar from the room, and I haven’t seen her since. It’s been a couple of hours and I’m getting worried. Who knows what he’s doing to her.
“Hey.” Lennon crawls through the window. I see he has a new black eye.
“Hey,” I say sadly, watching the door. I don’t even turn toward him.
“How long?” He means Briar. Lennon knows.
“A couple of hours,” I say numbly.
“What the fuck?” I can hear the anger dripping off of him, and if it was anyone else, I’d be scared.
“You were at school or something, or I would have thrown something at the window earlier.”
The sadness and anger linger in the room. There isn’t much either of us can do, though I know he wants to, but he can’t yet.
“Want to work out while we wait? It will take your mind off it for just a little while and build your strength.” He’s trying to help, and I like that.
I nod, though I don’t want to. He has me do sit-ups, push-ups, and then jump rope. He brought one over the other day. Even on little food, I feel stronger. I’m still too little to take on the monsters that hold us captive.
“Take a break. I’ll be back with food,” Lennon says as he jumps across to his house.
As soon as he’s clear, the door opens, and Briar is literally tossed in.
“Bitch.” Our mother spits on her and slams the door shut.
“Briar?” I scoot over to her and look her over.
I see she has two black eyes and a split lip. I check over the rest of her and see her ankle is twisted at an odd angle.
“It might be broken,” she whispers.
“What the fuck?” Lennon hops through the window.
“She just wanted her turn.” Briar shrugs as she sits up.
“You have that wrap?” he asks me, and I nod, going to get it out of my hiding place.
“It’s going to hurt, but I’m going to twist it back in place,” Lennon says, twisting it at the same time. Briar doesn’t even cry and that worries me. The noise alone is sickening. I’m not sure how Lennon knows how to do that. It could be that he’s had to set his own broken bones a time or two.
“We have to try and get you to a doctor,” Lennon says.
“How?” I ask him, knowing that she should see one but not sure how she can.
“I think I can get my dad’s keys, and when he passes out, we can go to the ER.”
“They’ll ask questions. We’ll be put in a home and then they’ll split us up,” Briar protests as Lennon reaches for her, trying to comfort her.
He kisses her forehead and palms her cheek as he holds her.
“I’ll figure something out. I’m going to go get an ice pack.”
He leaves and returns with two ice packs. She leaves them on her foot while we eat. I hate that she gets the worst of it. She shouldn’t have to protect me.
“I’m okay, Thorn,” she says, giving me a small smile.
“Someday, we will get out of here,” Lennon states. We’ve been saying that for years, but we never have the strength, and then there’s the money issue.