Echoes of Us

by S. H. Timmins

  I’m sitting at my desk doing homework when my bedroom door is thrust open. Knowing who it will be, and used to the unsolicited entrances, I don’t even bother to look up. I hear my bed squeak and assume Byron flopped on it behind me. Wondering what he wants, but knowing he will eventually tell me, I keep working at my desk.

  “So, sister of mine, what’s new?” His voice has an edge of anger to it, but I can’t guess what he’s pissed about now. “Wanna tell me about all the cocks you’ve got twitching lately?”

  I can feel my shoulders stiffen at his vulgar words. Not one to back down from him, I shoot back over my shoulder, “Oh, are you jealous? Were they supposed to twitch for you?”

  I hear his fast approach before I feel his breath against the back of my head. “Careful, sister. Wouldn’t want dear old dad to hear about how his daughter is a cock tease.”

  I throw down my pencil and spin around in my chair so he can see the menace in my eyes. “Just like we wouldn’t want him to know about that costly cocaine addiction you’re so fond of,” I smirk when I see his eyes widen slightly. Guess he didn’t think I knew of his little habit.

  His eyes narrow slightly, then he leans in close and pretends to sniff my breath. “Is that dick I smell? Sucking the old man’s cock for him, like the dirty girl you really are?” He does not understand how much is wrong with that statement. If he knew, I wonder what he would do. I shudder before I can help it, and he chuckles. “I’m sure the old guy’s not that bad. Your mom didn’t have any problem riding his cock all the way to the chapel and into his wallet. I’m betting the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Is that why he got you those new earrings, hm?”

  I feel the blood slowly draining from my face. Yes, Victor bought me a pair of diamond earrings, but not as any form of thanks. No, the reason was far worse than that. Knowing I have to get him out before I say something I’ll regret, I point to the door and yell, “Get out!”

  He smiles at me, but it isn’t kind. He stands up and makes to leave, but turns around at the last second. “I’m having a party here on Saturday night. You don’t mention the coke, and I’ll pretend I don’t see the looks my dad gives you.” With that, he shuts the door and walks out.

  I don’t know what he’s referring to, but I have a sick suspicion. He does not understand that his dad is the monster in this equation, not me. Shuddering in revulsion, I run to my bathroom and barely make it before throwing up what little I ate for dinner. Once I’m done and flush the toilet, I curl up on the tile and cry, wishing my mother was here.

  Later, I venture downstairs for some ibuprofen because I have a headache from crying and lack of food. I walk into the kitchen without looking, which is something I always do before I enter a room, but my head is hurting and I’m not thinking.

  “Good evening, Jolene. I was just asking your brother how your first few days of school have been.” I stop dead in my tracks. The one person I try to avoid in this house at all cost is standing right beside the cupboard I need. I look over and see Byron lounging against the island in the middle of the room, smirking at me.

  I’m screwed, and I know it. I try to play it off and meet my stepfather’s eyes. “It’s been fine.”

  “Just fine? Nothing new? It’s your senior year. I expected a little more than ‘fine’.” His eyes scan me from the head down and I feel naked and violated by the time he’s done.

  I shiver from the sensation and I see a delighted smile on his face. He enjoys the power and the control he has over me. I’m a prisoner in this house and he knows it. The only reason he hasn’t acted on his depravity is that he’s also afraid. He can’t risk his good name being dragged through the mud by the girl he took in as his own. It doesn’t stop him from testing how far he can skirt the edges though.

  With more confidence than I’m feeling, I walk toward him and say calmly, “I’ve been busy getting settled in my classes and a jump on the assignments. It’s only the first week, so not much has happened.” I rest my hip on the opposite side of the island from Byron.

  “Fair enough. I’m sure you’ll let me know if you have any problems?” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I nod my head in affirmation. “Good. Now that that’s settled, why don’t we all have a drink on the patio?”

  Byron pushes off the counter. “Sorry, dad, I’m catching the game over at Riley’s.” He gives me a look, then smiles back at his dad. “I’m sure Jolene would love to have a drink with you.”

  Instead of showing anger and panic at his suggestion, I play the one and only trump card I have. “Actually, I was just down here to get some ibuprofen. I’ve got cramps.” I don’t, but it’s the one thing I can always count on to bail me out.

  Byron screws up his face and makes a gagging noise. “Gross! TMI, sis. I’m outta here.” He spins on his heel and makes a hasty retreat.

  One down and one to go.

  I look up at my stepfather while rubbing my lower tummy. He tips his head to the side and shocks me by asking, “Did your mother ever put you on the pill?”

  My mouth drops open and I make a gasping sound through my parted lips. What the hell? I regain my composure enough to croak out, “Yes.”

  He nods his head like this is good news. “I would offer to take you myself. It seems your cramps are getting worse and more frequent. Should I be worried? I just want to be a good father.” The look in his eyes is not fatherly and tinged with a hint of anger and suspicion.

  Shit! Thinking fast I say, “Stress. Stress makes it worse. I’ve been stressing about school starting.”

  “You’ve always had good grades and get along with the kids there. What could you be stressed over?” He’s calling my bluff.

  “It’s my last year. I want to keep my grades up, so I have the best selection of colleges.” That is true. I’ll gladly take his cash for college. That’s my ticket out of here.

  Moving closer, he says, “In such a hurry to leave, are you?” I know by the silky rasp of his voice, he’s baiting me. He’s waiting for the moment I say the wrong thing, then he will strike like the snake he is.

  I don’t know how my mother tolerated him. She may have claimed she was trying to secure a better life for me, but she sold her soul to do it then left me in this hell alone. She had no way of knowing what would happen after she was gone, though. Victor always played the part of a loving father so well for her benefit.

  I know I have to word this in a way that will appease his beast. “I want to make you proud, that’s all.”

  A satisfied smile stretches across his lips and I can feel my body slumping in relief, but then he reaches out his hand and takes a stand of my hair and runs it between his thumb and forefinger. “You do make me proud. You are becoming the apple of my eye.” His voice has gone silky again and my body stiffens. “Apples were known to be forbidden fruit in a certain story. How very tempting an apple must have been.”

  My body is frozen in place and I dare not even breathe. This is why I try to avoid being alone with him. The earrings were an apology gift for a time when he skirted that edge too close.

  A gift for my silence. He’s always careful about his touches, but that time he went too far, and he knew it.

  I’d been coming out of the pool and he was standing in the shadows, watching me. I hadn’t seen him. I was ringing the water from my hair when he approached me. As usual, it started with a few carefully veiled innuendos. I was trying to make excuses for leaving when he had leaned closer and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. He asked if I was still a virgin. Can you imagine a father, even a stepfather, asking a girl that? I nodded my head, too afraid to speak. He then stroked the tip of my nipple through the wet material of my suit and asked if a boy had ever touched me there. I shook my head and felt tears in my eyes as I did. I don’t know if it was the tears that did it, or if he had a moment of clarity, but he stepped back with a tortured look on his face and told me to go inside. The next morning there was a pair of earrings on my desk.

  I can feel tears fo
rming in my eyes again. Sometimes I wonder if I will make it to my eighteenth birthday before he decides his reputation is worth the risk.

  He drops my hair and steps back. In a harsh voice, he says, “Get your pills and some rest, then.”

  I don’t look at his face as I move past him and grab the pills from the cupboard. I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water. When I turn back around, he’s gone. I make a hasty retreat to my room and have the door shut before the first tear hits my cheek.

  Past Meets Present

  I spend a lot of time over the next few days thinking about the horrors in the home I’m trapped in. I also reminded myself that I will not be the meek and mild girl they want. They may want to wash the dirt from my past and pretend I belong in their shining world, but I know where I came from, and my dirt is skin deep. It’s time I remind them about that - all of them.

  Putting into action my new plan, I ask my friend Stephanie to help me with an outfit for the party Byron is throwing. Everything in my wardrobe is too innocent and prim. I need something bold and reckless; something to make a statement about the girl everyone thought they knew. Stephanie and Carla are the only ones who know the truth about my past, but no one knows the extent of the suffering I’ve endured within these walls. Byron is careful that no one sees the depth of his hatred for me, and I don’t bother telling anyone differently. Besides, who would believe me? Even my friends are blind to his faults, so I’ve just let them believe what they want (the same way Victor is sure to impress my friends and schoolmates with his portrayal of the doting and loving father). He should have gone into politics with his ability to act.

  So, I’m sitting on my bed as Stephanie tosses clothes at me from her bag, talks about how hot the new kid is and how she hopes he comes tonight. I finger the material of a slinky top that landed on my lap. “I’m curious, myself. I seem to be the only girl in school who hasn’t seen him yet.”

  Steph throws her curly brown hair over her shoulder and winks at me. “He’s definitely worth the wait. Now, let’s find you the perfect outfit to cause instant boners tonight.”

  I giggle at the mental picture of that. “I’m not sure that’s quite what I want to happen. I’m not going for slut-queen, just something more daring than what a twelve-year-old would wear.”

  She narrows her brown eyes at me, then asks, “I don’t get how your dad treats you like a China doll. He doesn’t seem to care what Byron does. I know my dad can be a bit much, and gives me grief about the clothes I wear, but he doesn’t force his choices on me. Men and their double standards. I’ll never understand it. Anyway, he needs to loosen up. This is your last year of high school and then you’ll be going off to college. He doesn’t plan on choosing your clothes for there too, does he?”

  That is exactly what he would try to do, which is why I will pick the college furthest from here. I know why he wants me to dress the way he does. He likes the image of purity those clothes give. I secretly think he believes it will deflect any interest from boys who are looking to “deflower” me. He likes my virginity too much. Far too much.

  I toss the shirt aside and stand from the bed. “Who knows? I will not let him influence my wardrobe tonight. Besides, he’s out of town. What he doesn’t know, and all that.”

  “Well, at least he only has a say in the length of your uniform skirt. Not much he can say or do about what you wear to school.” She walks over to the bed and places the clothes into outfits.

  “True. Okay, enough of this depressing talk. We’re supposed to be getting ready for a party. Let’s find us both an outfit and then do our hair.” I lean over the bed with her and assess the choices.

  Steph takes a strand of my hair and examines it. “You really have the most incredible hair. Is it weird I’m totally excited about you letting me play with it tonight?”

  I laugh at my friend. “Weirder than you being excited about finding a top that will, and I am quoting you here, ‘showcase the ‘ta-tas’?”

  She bursts into a fit of laughter and wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Those puppies should never be leashed. If I had a chest like yours, I’d charge a petting fee.”

  I gasp and then double over in laughter. When I get myself under control, I pretend to scowl at her. “Do you realize you basically implied I should make money off people touching me? Are you calling me a hooker?”

  She’s still giggling when she replies, “Not at all, Sugar Tits. Maybe an exotic dancer, though?”

  I grab an outfit off the bed blindly and fake punch her in the arm. “Not much better there, you slut. Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not the one who lost my v-card at fourteen.”

  She pouts at me. “Ouch. That was mean. You know I’m only teasing. I think it’s sweet you’re saving yourself for some destined love. It’s very Romeo and Juliet. Besides, I meant it as a compliment. Your body is the stuff boys wake up sweaty over. You should flaunt it with pride.”

  I purse my lips at her. “I’m not so sure about that, but I’m ready to stop hiding behind clothes that make me feel like a little girl. I’m not comfortable ‘flaunting’ myself, but there has to be some happy medium?”

  She nods her head. “Absolutely. Try on what’s in your hand and we’ll go from there.”

  “Let’s do this,” I say with more confidence than I’m feeling.

  I wanted to look sexier, but now I’m having second thoughts about it. I don’t want to appear slutty, and the idea I might get more attention than I want leaves a sick feeling in my stomach. I already have enough negative attention just in this house for the way I look. I don’t want that from the boys I have to see every day at school. I realize I shouldn’t feel ashamed of the way I look, but that’s the crux of my problem - I do feel ashamed.

  I shut the bathroom door and look down at the clothes in my hand; a short skirt and an off-the-shoulder blouse. Nothing too slutty, right? Right? I tip my head back and take a deep breath. I try and picture the old me and channel her right now. What would the old me do? What would the girl who came from the other side of the tracks do? She would wear these clothes and dare anyone to say something to her about it. She would make all those kids know that she isn’t afraid of their judgment and she is tired of hiding who she is.

  I nod my head and strip off my clothes.

  I don’t wear the skirt because I’m a few inches taller than Steph and it looked like a micro mini on me. The blouse was perfect, even with my bra size being two cups larger than hers. The material molds and hugs my chest, whereon her the blouse is loose. I paired the blouse with the only pair of skinny jeans I own. Steph, Carla, and I had been at the mall one day. I’d been saving all my lunch money, instead of buying lunch, so I could get them. I've never been brave enough to wear them - Victor would have a fit - but knowing they’re in my closet gives me a huge thrill.

  Steph has done my long hair in loose curls and we both did our own make-up. Mine is more daring than I usually wear, but nothing like the look Steph applied to her own face. She is a beautiful girl, but with the way she emphasized her eyes and highlighted her cheeks, she is stunning. She ended up wearing the short skirt and the slinky top, both in black, and she looks like she could walk off the cover of a magazine. She’s aware of her looks and has no trouble using them to her advantage. Several of the boys at our school have fallen under her spell over the years and she has left a trail of broken hearts in her wake.

  Carla is our more reserved friend, but no less beautiful. I study her as she meets us in the kitchen. Like me, she is wearing skinny jeans, but she has a spaghetti-strap shirt on with sequins down the front that change color in the light. Her auburn hair is pulled up in a style that highlights the elegance of her slim neck. Where Steph and I have rounded curves, she has the frame and grace of a dancer. Fitting, since that’s what she is. She is amazing at it too. She is desperately hoping to get into a college close to here that specializes in the performing arts. I have no doubt she will.

  We have a few drinks here before we head out
back, where kids have already gathered. The pool is closed off for the night since alcohol, drugs, and pools don’t mix. Even Byron isn’t that brave or stupid. There is a huge fire pit where kids usually park themselves in the folding chairs they bring, but there is also a gazebo, patio, and deck with enough places for everyone to sit. By the sounds coming through the patio door, I’d wager most of the senior class is already out there.

  “So, shall we place our bets now on who will be the first to hurl and which couple will be the first to use the pool house?” Steph asks us with a devilish glint in her eyes.