Layton
A car rumbles down the street, startling me from watching my cartoons. I finish the sandwich Mama made me and rush to quickly rinse my dishes and place them in the rack to dry.
“Layton, go, try and stay out of his way tonight, okay?” I give her a nod and she brings me into her arms for a quick hug. “You are my good boy.” She kisses my messy blond hair and gives me a gentle shove towards my bedroom in the basement. I open the door and walk down the steps, being cautious not to touch the ones that creak. It’s dark down here, and the air always makes me sneeze, but I don't mind it. I used to have a nice room upstairs next to my Mama but that’s being prepared for my baby sister. Plus down here he doesn’t hurt me as much. I sit on the corner of my small race car bed and grab one of my favorite comics. I have a small flashlight next to my pillow and I click it on so I can read.
A loud crash from upstairs has me smacking myself in the face with my flashlight. Oww.
“Please, Harold, don’t. He’s just a little boy. Your little boy,” my mama yells from above me.
No no please, not tonight, what did I do? I haven’t made a sound down here.
I quietly climb from my bed and rush to the corner behind the dryer. I’m small for seven, and I can usually hide here without being caught.
“Shut up woman. That is no son of mine. He’s a pathetic little shit. You cheated on me, didn’t you? Whoring yourself out to every John in town. That’s probably not even my baby,” he roars, making me shake. I close my eyes and cover my ears with my hands, rocking back and forth. I try to block out the screams from upstairs. He’s hurting my mama.
I wish someone would save us.
A noise from outside startles me from my dreams. My eyes are wet and my chest is tight. I was crying in my sleep again. Jase pulls me closer to his warmth, holding me. “Shhh Lay, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He kisses my shoulder and falls back to sleep. I listen to his soft breaths for a few moments until I feel myself drifting off again.
“Where are you, you little shit?” he roars storming down the cement stairs. I hold very still and cover my mouth with my hands to keep my breaths quiet. “I know you’re down here Layton. You left your little flashlight on.” I freeze. Oh no. If he takes that, then I will always be in the dark. Mama made me promise to keep it hidden. A crash sounds and I yelp, immediately knowing he’s going to learn about my secret spot.
Please please please. I pray to a god I don’t know exists. Probably another fairytale my mama told me.
“Come out come out Lay,” he coos but I know it’s all a game to him. “Now Layton. Take your punishment or I will lock you in the garage overnight.”
I shake and quietly shuffle out of my hiding place. I can’t spend another night out there. The last time was after my tenth birthday. I was in trouble for playing with the neighbor’s boy. I’m not supposed to go outside anymore.
“Please don't, Dad,” I whisper. The light from the kitchen shines down illuminating the scary smile on his face. “There you are,” he snaps, moving towards me so fast. The slap echoes before the hurt comes. I bite my lip to hide my cry. He hits harder if I make a sound. Grabbing my arm, he drags me up the stairs. He throws me in a kitchen chair and points to the dishes in the sink. “Why the fuck did I come home to a sink full of dirty dishes? Where the fuck is your mother?” I shrug and get a backhanded slap in response. “Fucking do them,” he roars, before leaving the room. I hear his boots stomping up the stairs towards their bedroom, then loud chuckles. I hurry to do what he asks. Maybe I can get them done and go to my room before he comes back. I finish the last plate and spin to put it in the drying rack.
Movement in the corner catches my eye, and I glance that way, only to freeze. My dad stands there, watching me, with blood all over his hands. I don’t know if it’s his or my mamas. “Get out of the fucking way,” he says, striding to the sink. He mutters something under his breath, but I don’t bother to pay attention. My mind races, and I’m terrified something is wrong. He turns the sink off and moves to the fridge to grab a beer. I shuffle over to the stairs. I just need to check. Make sure she's okay. “Where do you think you’re going boy?” he yells, making me jump.
“Worthless waste of life. I should have flushed you down the toilet. Fucking that bitch you call Mama was my worst mistake. Now I’m stuck with your pathetic ass.” He takes another sip of the nasty brown liquid in the bottle, before throwing it towards my head. I duck down just in time. It crashes above me, shattering sharp shards to cover me. One slices my cheek and I wince, letting out a soft cry and when I bring my hand to my face and touch it gently, a wetness coats my finger. Dark red liquid—blood. Just like the blood that covered his hands not even five minutes ago.
“Why?” I whisper. I don’t know what I’m asking, there are so many questions running through my mind. Why does he hurt me? Why doesn’t he love me? Why were his hands bloody? Why doesn’t he just leave? All these questions I have and the only word I can think to ask is ‘why’.
Not like it matters, I don’t think he heard me. He’s ranting about something and seems a bit crazier than usual.
“Mama help me, Mama save me, Mama why don’t you love me. Pathetic little shit,” he says in a voice I think is supposed to be mine. Maybe when I was younger I sounded like that, but I soon learned it didn’t help things. It’s just another way to hurt me. If he’s not hitting me he’s saying nasty words to try and break me down. He likes making me and my mama cry, but now I just keep my mask on.
He bends low, getting into my face. He stinks so bad like sweat and cigarettes, my stomach twists. “Your mama can’t save you boy. Look around, do you see her anywhere?” I don’t dare move my head, but he’s right. Where is she? He stumbles over to his chair and plops down staring me in the eye. “Dumb bitch went and killed herself, and it’s all your fault. She never loved you, because if she did, she would have taken you with her.”
I wake tangled in my sheets covered in a sheen of sweat. My heart is racing and I feel sick. I haven’t thought about that night in so long. I wonder what spurred it on. I roll over and reach for Jase but he’s not there. The bathroom door is wide open and empty and the sun is shining through the curtains. His spot feels cold. I sit up against the pillow and reach for my phone. I press the button on the side to check the time. Fuck. I’ve missed half a day of classes. I kick the sheets from my legs and jump from the bed. There’s a note taped to my door that makes me calm down.
Babe,
Take the day off. You need it.
J
I smile and open our text thread sending him a quick message. I know he’s in class right now, but he’ll see it when he gets out.
The AC kicks on, and I shiver. I feel gross and need a shower. Moving to the bathroom, I don’t bother with the light. I feel more comfortable these days in the dark. I strip my boxers off, toss them in the hamper, and feel along the shower wall for the knob turning the water too hot. One thing I love about this bathroom is the water never runs cold compared to the dorms. I do a quick rinse then towel off and throw some work out clothes on. One thing that always helps me after a bad memory or dream is punching the shit out of a bag. I open my bedroom door and take a deep breath. I am safe. He can no longer hurt me, at least not physically. I grab my gym bag and slip my sneakers on. I skip down the stairs and stop in the kitchen for an energy bar and water bottle. We’re running low on fruit, so I scribble a quick note then walk out the back door.
The sun warms me, and I sigh in relief. The house next door is thumping with bass, and some guys are stumbling around high off their asses, acting like idiots.
“Yo Lay, come party, man,” someone shouts, but I keep walking. I need to punch this tension and anxiety out, or I may hit someone. I start a slow jog, warming my muscles up, then turn to a run. I pass some people who wave but I keep my eyes on the building in front until I reach it. The AC immediately hits me, cooling me down. “Hey Lay,” Sharla shouts from the counter. I give her a wave and point to the boxing ring they keep in the corner. Marco is there punching the bag on the left. I give him a nod then throw my bag on the floor against the mirrors. I don’t bother wrapping or pulling my gloves on. I put my earbuds in and crank‘I miss the misery’by Halestorm.
I get in my fighter's stance and let the bag have all my frustrations. All the hits my father gave to me since I learned how to talk, all the kicks he would do to my mom. How he would laugh and mock us when we begged for him to stop. Someone grabs my shoulder, breaking me from my trance. I already know who it is from his cologne. I twist and throw myself into his arms, breaking down. My earbud is removed and East's voice is in my ear, telling me it’s going to be okay. I push myself back and glance around, but the place is cleared out. “Sharla texted me. She was worried about you. You’ve been here two hours, man.”