by Jo Cassidy
He ran his hand down my hair. "I know. You did the right thing by saying you couldn't go to her party. I just wished you would have told me so I wouldn't have looked so stupid in front of her."
I buried my head into his neck, pushing past the stench of sweat. "I thought you'd be mad at me. I don't like to make you angry."
"You're a good girl, Cora," he said, so soft and caring, like I was the only thing that mattered to him. "You're my little angel. I love you."
"I love you, too, Daddy." I sniffed and wiped my nose with the side of my hand. “Why did you call me ‘boy’ earlier?”
His body stiffened. “I did?”
“Yes,” I whispered. I pulled back in time to see him close his eyes and purse his lips in a way that it looked like he was scolding himself.
His demeanor finally loosened and his eyes opened, the composed blue relaxing me. “Must have been a slip of the tongue.” He poked my nose. “I know you’re a girl.”
He removed some cream and bandages from under the sink and cleaned up my back. Every press against my back burned. I clenched the muscles in my body and held in the tears. Would the pain ever end? Or would my life always hurt?
When he finally finished with my back, he put a bandage on the cut on my arm. It had been small and not very deep. Hopefully it wouldn't take long to heal. My long sleeves would cover it up, though, so no one would see.
He helped me stand. "Go get dressed in something warm and try to get some sleep."
I stared at my water-wrinkled toes. "Do I have to go back downstairs?"
He lifted my chin so he could look in my eyes. They were calm and breezy, like a warm summer’s day. "No, angel. You can sleep in your own bed. You'll need energy for tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?" Would he really let me go back to school after what had happened? I wasn't sure if I could. With the injuries on my back, there was no way I could conceal the pain.
He guided me into the hallway and pointed to the carpet. My blood stained the entire hallway. He put his arm around my shoulder. "You need to rip up the carpet. I've been wanting wood flooring for a while now, and this just gives me a good excuse." He rubbed my arm. "I'll put some buckets near the top of the basement stairs. You can use them to get the water out."
"Where should I dump the water?" My muscles ached from the thought of all the work that lay ahead of me. It would take me hours to empty the water from the basement, especially in the state I was in.
"The backyard."
No one would see me that way. "Can't I dump it in the bathtub?" It would be so much easier – and closer.
His cold finger ran the length of my cheek. "No, angel. There may be random objects in with the water. We don't want that going down the pipes. It would create an even bigger mess than we already have on our hands."
With a nod, I forced myself to move toward my room, using the wall and door frame for support.
The lock outside my door clicked into place, trapping me in the room for the rest of the night. I slowly shuffled to my dresser, fighting through the pain. I wished I could take some sort of pain reliever, but Daddy didn't believe in them.
"Are you back in here?" Noah asked.
I'd almost forgotten he'd fallen to the floor when Daddy had taken me to the basement. I picked up Noah, biting my tongue from the sting, and placed him on the bed. At least he had dried from the broken snow globe water.
"You're back early," Noah said. I turned him so he couldn’t see me.
Dropping the towel, I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out fresh clothes. The motion from putting my top on pulled at my lashings, and I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t scream out.
“Something needs to change,” Noah said.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t watch him do that to you again.” He cleared his throat like he was trying to hold back tears. “It’s too much.”
With stiff arms, I slowly lowered myself to the bed and sat down. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Me, too,” he whispered.
After closing the canopy, I lay down on my stomach and took him into my arms. "How did everything get so out of control?"
"That's life. An uncontrollable mess."
I kissed his trunk. "Going to public school ruined everything."
"Will he let you go back?" Noah asked.
I closed my eyes, pulling him closer. "I have to. At least to figure out who knows my secret."
"Then what? Kill them?"
"I can't do that. Murder is wrong. I'd go to jail. I just need to talk the person out of reporting anything. Maybe I can convince them the journal isn't real. Tell them I like to make up stories and want to be a crime writer one day."
Noah laughed, the sound strained. "They'll never believe you."
"They have to," I mumbled, exhaustion taking over my body.
If I could get the journal back, I could quit public school. Daddy’s anger had increased when I started high school. Maybe going back to homeschool would make him happy again. Maybe he’d start loving me again, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about being alone.
But with Daddy, wouldn’t I always be alone? Was that what I wanted? There was no positive outcome. I was either alone and under Daddy’s control, or alone and under the foster system’s control.
I’d always thought the latter was worse, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true.
Chapter 18
As soon as Daddy left for work, I got down on my knees, gritting through the pain on my back, and slowly removed all the carpet and padding in the hallway. I rolled them up and hobbled into the garage. Daddy would have to use his van to dispose of it later.
All day I sloshed up and down the stairs, using the railing and walls for support, removing buckets of water from the basement and tossing it in the backyard. It didn't take long for my legs to wobble during each ascent and descent. Daddy would have to change my bandages when he got home.
Each flight brought an overwhelming fear of what was to come. I'd made a mess of things. Not just in the basement. I'd made friends – something I wasn’t supposed to do. I'd wrote all my deepest, darkest secrets in a journal, risking exposure of me and Daddy.
The fun is about to begin. That was what the second letter had said. What did they mean?
The worst part? I didn't have the slightest clue what to do. I had no one I could go to for help. Noah and Sally were just outlets, not people to go to for actual advice. They had no clue what lay beyond the front doors – Sally didn't know what lay beyond the basement.
There were moments I wished I didn't know what was out there either. If I'd kept in my bubble – didn’t have a never-ending need to learn new things – I would have been safe in my room, locked away from the world and all it had to offer. Away from friends and knowledge and a chance at life.
At the end of the day, I wanted to take a long, hot shower, but Daddy had only been able to temporarily fix the pipe. He’d shown me how to turn the water back on but said I needed to keep all water usage to a minimum.
So after I turned it on, I hurried upstairs and took a quick shower. I needed to wash away all the regret, the grime from the basement water, and the dirt my life had to offer. I was filth – disgusting waste that no one wanted.
If someone were to uncover the truth, I’d be thrown back in the system. I still had two years until I was a legal adult. That would be two years of being bounced around by a bunch of random strangers who didn’t want or love me. I’d be on my own.
Daddy had hurt me, but I’d been the source of the anger. If I hadn’t wrote in the journals, been careless and taken it to school, I wouldn’t be injured. I wouldn’t be covered in gross basement water. I’d be safe in my room with Noah, completely unharmed by the world.
Daddy wanted me when no one else had, and I'd betrayed him by keeping the journals. Somehow I had to dispose of all of them without him finding out.
I hated that I was trapped. Why had I ever been born? If there was a purpose to
me being alive, I had no idea what it was.
After turning the water back off, I curled up on the pink rug in my room and hummed a lullaby.
Since I wasn't locked up, I shuffled into the kitchen, staying close to the walls so I wouldn’t fall, and prepared dinner for Daddy. Meatloaf. It wasn't my favorite, but he loved it, especially when I used his mom's recipe. She’d died years before Daddy took me and I’d only ever seen pictures. I wondered what it would be like to have a grandparent – someone else to love and care for me.
Going through the cupboards, I removed everything I'd need to cook and arranged it neatly on the counter, in the order I'd use it. I did the same with the ingredients, setting them in front of the bowl or measuring cup they'd be used with. Organization always helped the process go smoothly and calmed the butterflies in my stomach. If I followed a structured method, nothing could go wrong.
When I finished preparing it, I opened the preheated oven and set the pan smack in the center. Smiling, I closed the door and leaned up against the counter. Before I cleaned up the mess, I always liked to take a moment to focus on my breathing. Closing my eyes, I inhaled through the nose, counted to three, and then exhaled from my mouth.
Stick to a process that was guaranteed to work. Daddy taught me that.
The phone on the wall rang, startling me. It listed unknown on the caller ID. We didn't get many phone calls, especially at the house.
Daddy didn't like me to answer the phone unless it was one of his clients or him. But a small part of me tingled in anticipation. Ignoring my shaking hand, I lifted the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Is this Cora?" The voice on the other end was deep and rumbly, like it was automated – not a real human voice.
"Who's this?"
"Someone who knows your secret."
I froze in shock. Every part of me wanted to panic, but I had to find out what they knew first. "What secret?"
The voice laughed, the raspy tone making my skin crawl. "The question isn't what secret, it's which one? I know many of yours, perfect angel." They’d used Daddy’s nickname for me.
My fist clutched tightly around the phone. "If you give me back my property now, I won't turn you into the police." It was a weak argument, which we both knew.
They laughed harder. "Yes, please, let's go to the police and turn in your precious Daddy."
A wave of fear crashed over me as spots appeared in my vision. I swayed where I stood, so I reached out and gripped the counter, trying to stay standing. Everything in the room closed in on me until I felt trapped. Breathing. Oh, how it hurt to breathe. My lungs were on fire, threatening to burn me down to ash.
"You still there, angel?"
So many questions raced through my mind. Who were they? How did they get my journal? Why had they taken it? How did they get my phone number?
But, really, there was only one question that completely outweighed all the others, and I knew this person wouldn't be answering any of the other ones any time soon. I licked my lips, trying to work moisture back into my mouth. "What do you want?"
"Finally, the correct question." Their deep breath broke through the phone, crinkling like thick plastic in the wind. "I need you to steal something for me."
"What?" Of all the things they could ask of me, that hadn't even crossed my mind. "Why?"
"From what I've read, you're an expert at stealing." Even through the automated voice, their smile was apparent. It turned my fear into anger. Bad move on their part.
Placing my hand on my forehead, I shook my head. "Small things."
"This is small."
"What is it?"
"Test answers," they said. I desperately wished I could tell whether it was a male or female voice. It would narrow down my suspect list. "I need all the test answers for every single biology class."
My hand balled into a fist. "You can't possibly expect me to do that. Why not just one teacher?"
They laughed. "But where’s the fun in that?"
Maybe Jenna could let me know who took biology since she TA’d in the front office. It could possibly point me toward the blackmailer.
"And before you think of asking Jenna for help, you should know that these answers may not be for me."
I shouldn't have been surprised that this person knew my friends and what their classes were. I had to go off the assumption that they knew everything about me, which made finding out who they were so much harder. "Wow, what a noble student. Stealing answers for someone else."
They laughed. "Or maybe I just want to test you to see if you'll do as you’re told." They hadn't commented on my usage of student, but that didn't really mean anything.
"If I do this . . .”
"When you do it," they cut in. "Your other option is to have me call the police."
"Where do I put the answers?" I hated that this was happening to me.
"Leave them in a bag near the flagpole tomorrow after school."
The phone almost fell from my hand. "That's too soon. I may not even be at school tomorrow."
"Not my problem. Tomorrow after school." They hung up.
My hand shook as I placed the phone back on the receiver. How would I possibly steal all the test answers before school ended? What if Daddy didn't allow me to go back to school?
The oven timer went off, reminding me of the meatloaf. I'd have to come up with a plan later. Now, I had to prepare the rest of dinner for Daddy. He needed to be happy if I intended on going back to school.
I double checked every piece of dinnerware, looking closely for scratches or nicks of any kind. Every piece was put in its proper place – the plates, the utensils, and the cups – and the napkins were folded precisely. I'd opened the front window so I could hear when Daddy pulled into the driveway. The second his van rumbled into its spot, I closed the front window and dished the food onto the plate, wiping away any drops that splattered.
As the front door opened, I pressed the tip of my finger into his meatloaf, making sure it was the perfect temperature. Smoothing out my dress, I stood tall next to his seat and plastered on my smile.
Daddy rounded the corner, back straight and chin held up, his tired eyes lighting up when he saw me. I lifted onto my tiptoes just barely and smiled wider.
"Hi, Daddy." I gestured to his seat. "Welcome home."
He pointed to the kitchen. "I need to wash my hands."
I picked a warm towel up from the counter and held it out. "Let me."
With a smile, he held out his hands, and I wiped them clean, making sure to get every spec of dirt and every crevice. When I finished, he kissed me on the forehead, the coldness lingering, and sat down in his seat. His eyes wandered over my dress.
"But I'm not dressed the part today."
I sat down and slid my chair closer to the table. "You look handsome, Daddy."
I tucked my napkin into the collar of my dress. Daddy did the same, putting his into his shirt.
"How was your day?" I asked, waiting patiently for him to take his first bite before I took mine.
"My day was just okay until I came home." He moaned. With his fork, he pointed to the meatloaf. "This is perfect, angel."
Warmth burst inside me, and I smiled. He was in a good mood. "I’m so glad."
He took a few more bites, slowly chewing, and then wiped at his mouth. "And how was your day?"
"I finished cleaning up the basement. No serious damage. Aside from the busted pipe."
His shoulders stooped, surprising me. He rarely showed his vulnerability. "I repaired it best I could. I stopped on the way home from my last appointment and got everything I need to replace the pipe."
"Good," I said. He always checked the caller ID, so he'd know someone called. "A telemarketer called."
He lifted an eyebrow. "You answered the phone?"
"I thought it might be one of your clients." I took a bite of meatloaf, forcing it down my throat. "They were trying to get us to switch cable providers. I did as you taught me. I was polite, yet f
irm, and let them know we weren't interested. It took a while to end the conversation, but I finally did."
"That's my girl." He took another bite of meatloaf, his mouth working slow and deliberate. His blue-gray eyes bore into mine, and I did my best to stay calm. With a deep breath, he tore his gaze from mine and drove his fork through another piece of meatloaf. "Saturday, I'll go down to the store and buy some hardwood. Then we can install it."
I set my fork down next to my plate, careful not to clink them together. "You want me to help you? I'm not sure how good I'll be. . . .”
He patted my hand, his skin rough against mine. "I'll show you how to do it. My father never let me help around the house – he was always worried I’d screw things up. I had to figure everything out on my own.” He winked at me. “I'm sure you'll be a natural like me."
Smiling, I took a drink of water and set the cup back in its correct position on the table. "Daddy, may I go back to school tomorrow?"
He clenched his hand in and out of a fist. "I'm not sure if you've earned that privilege back."
I finished off my meatloaf and then folded my hands into my lap. "You make an excellent point, Daddy. I guess I'm just eager to learn. But if you don't think it's time . . .”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You did work hard today." He put his shoulders back. "And I love the fact that you like to learn so much. You remind me so much of myself. Diligent and eager." His eyes focused on the pan of meatloaf. He drummed his fingers on the table, keeping a rhythm with the second hand on the clock hanging in the kitchen.
Both my fists clutched onto my dress under the table. Each second that passed added to my agony. I wanted to shout, just let me go! but that would ruin my chances of ever going back to school. All I wanted was to get my journal back and destroy all the evidence of mine and Daddy's secret. Then I could figure out what to do from there.
"Fine," he finally said. "You may go back to school tomorrow."
My fists released their death grip on my dress and my muscles relaxed. "Thank you, Daddy."