Thorn: Age 10
He just left us. He kissed my sister and said he’d be back, and then he just was gone. That was two years ago. So many tender moments between them, and I was rooting for them…and then he’s gone. Briar has been so depressed since then. I almost worry she’s just going to give up and let our parents kill her. I can’t let that happen, I need her. Briar needs me, too.
I hate him right now, only because he was the bright light in our day. I miss that asshole and at the same time, I want to kick his ass for leaving. I know she does as well. I wish he was here right now because it’s probably the worst she’s gotten it. I can literally hear the ass whooping she’s getting, and I’m nowhere near the master bedroom.
The wails and curses coming from down the hall fill this room, making it too loud to think. She’s been in there for a couple hours, and I’m fearful that she might not come back. Our parents have no reason to keep us around. I don’t even know why they have.
I clench my fists in anger. Mad at myself because I can’t do anything, mad at them because they’re hurting her. Mad at Lennon for leaving us. I’m mad at the world. I look out the window and watch other kids skipping to school or playing in the street, and I hate them. I hate them because they get to do things without a care in the world, living great lives with loving parents while we’re wasting away.
She is doing this for me, always for me. She thinks I don’t know, but that man was going to do something to me. He probably tried before. She caught him in here touching me. It was only on the shoulder, but she knew. She said something to him and hence the beating. I hate all of this.
“Fucking bitch,” I hear as our door opens and Briar is thrown across the room.
I watch in horror as our mother walks across the room to kick her a few more times before she walks out, no remorse on her face as she slams the door shut. I’m thankful she didn’t even acknowledge me. I’m not sure what would have happened if she turned her anger on me.
I sit there and stare at my sister. I don’t know what to do, she looks extremely pale. I would have thought she was dead had I not seen a little breath. We need Lennon’s help and have no idea where he is since the asshole up and left. I want to crawl in a little ball and cry since I’m at a loss of what to do.
“Thorn,” she rasps, and I rush to her side.
“I’m here.” I take her hand, and I want to say that three of her fingers are broken, but I can’t be sure.
Her face is one big bruise. When she reaches for me, I can see her ribs are purple and black. There is blood on my hands when I cradle her head and when I lift it a little, I see there is a gash on her neck.
“We need to go. You’re going to have to do some things I never wanted you to do,” she whispers.
“What do I need to do?” If she asked me to rob a bank, I would if it would help her.
“They’re leaving. When they do, I need you to go to their room and open the safe.”
“I don’t have the code.”
“I know it. Take whatever you can, any cash they have. Take all of it, and the car keys.”
“Okay,” I say.
I know they keep cash in the safe. I’ve seen it. I watched my mom pull out a stack of bills to give to a man one day while I was getting a beating. The man didn’t even flinch as my dad hit me with the belt. She handed him the money, and he handed her a bag. I can only guess what was in that bag, drugs.
“I’m okay,” she says, though she’s not.
She’s trying to reassure me. I’ll let her have this until we get out of dodge. I know we need to go and them leaving gives us a window, but she can hardly breathe right now. How is she going to drive?
We sit in silence as I hold her, listening for them to leave. Once I hear the door slam, I look at her and know this is it. I have to be fast.
“It’s 1987,” she says, and I run into their bedroom.
The safe is in the closet behind the door. I open it and grab what she asked me to. I know we need to be quick. I find a bag on the floor and stuff the cash into it. I rush back to the room and help her up as she scans the room.
“Grab whatever you want,” she says, and the only things I grab are a pair of gloves that Lennon gave me and the first aid kit he made for us.
I watch as she grabs a few books and the worksheets we used to get caught up in school.
“Help me to the car,” she says, and I let her use me as a crutch, scanning the road as I help her outside.
I have to be prepared if our parents come back. I throw the bag in the back seat and help her into the driver’s seat. I run to the passenger side and climb in as she starts the car. This will be her first time driving by herself. One time, a man came to the house, and our bitch of a mother told him he could have Briar for the day. The man taught her to drive, and she said he was nice and never asked for anything from her. I want to say that he knew we would need a way out someday. I’m glad that he did that for her. It makes me mad that he didn’t call child services, though. Briar is old enough now, and I could stay with her if we had been taken away. The man didn’t, but he did give us some freedom.
She must have gotten a second wind because she floors it. I never look back. I’m looking forward, only forward. I know we won’t get far tonight, she’s hurt too bad. But soon, we’ll be long gone from this hellhole.
Lennon: Age 18