by Jo Cassidy
I looked down in horror as I stood there in my bra. Coldness and embarrassment engulfed me. He’d never taken off my clothing – boys and men weren’t supposed to see me like this.
Taking me by the braid, he wrenched me toward the wall and threw me against the mattress leaning on it, my arm smashed awkwardly between me and the mattress. Urine and sweat attacked my senses. The water had enhanced all the horrible smells. Before I could move my arm, he’d removed his belt and slashed it against my already bandaged back.
My wail echoed throughout the basement. Strike after strike came, peeling back the bandages and ripping open my flesh, causing more pain than I had ever felt in my life. Warm blood slithered down my back as I tried to grip onto the sides of the mattress, but he was going too fast for me to grab hold. When my knees gave out and I fell to the ground, Daddy started taking things from the shelves and throwing them all around.
Screwdrivers, hammers, scraps of metal, used car parts, all the different, random items Daddy had collected over the years collided with the walls and floor. I threw my arms over my head for protection.
“You’re the worst mistake of my life!” His eyes bulged as he chucked a picture frame above me. It slammed into the mattress before it bounced off and shattered to the ground. He reached his arms in a shelf and swept them to the side, all the boxes falling one by one to the floor.
When he finally stopped, his hurricane eyes whipped about as his chest heaved in and out. His perfectly gelled hair was disheveled, loose locks falling against his sweaty forehead.
He pointed a shaking finger at me. “No more lying, or I’ll . . .” His eyes closed tight as he drew deep breaths. Moments later, he snatched my ruined shirt from the ground, pounded up the stairs, and turned off the light as I sat shaking on the floor. He would what? I probably didn’t want to know.
With a mighty shove, he slammed the door, cloaking me in darkness. The lock clicked into place. I thought about trudging up the stairs to turn on the light, but I liked the thought of basking in the blackness. Maybe by staying in the darkness, I wouldn't have to see the reality of what Daddy was.
Chapter 24
I’d never been so humiliated in my life. Why had he taken off my shirt and then left me without any cover? It took at least a half hour before my heart had steadied and the overwhelming fear that clawed at me had faded to a dull throb. The sting in my back had dwindled to a bearable state. I would need to re-bandage it when Daddy let me out.
If he left me out.
Daddy had mentioned his father in the past, but I had no idea he’d been this violent. No wonder Daddy hated to talk about him. It made me wonder where his father was now.
I needed to focus on something else before I completely broke down and lost it. Talking to Sally would help.
I forced myself up the stairs, gritting through the pain, and flipped on the light before I descended, gripping the handrail tight and trying to force my wobbly legs to calm.
Because of the water leak and Daddy’s meltdown, everything in the basement had been moved around. I wondered if I'd even find Sally among all the debris. She could have been broken apart, or worse, thrown away. If I still had all her pieces, I could put her back together.
Before I searched for her, I needed something to cover myself with. Even though no one could see me in the basement, I didn’t like being half naked. I went to a tote I knew held some old clothes – I’d created Sally’s dress from a shirt inside – and found an old, stained T-shirt of Daddy’s and slipped it on, sucking in a sharp breath when the cloth pushed against the cuts on my back.
Once the sting subsided, I searched the room, climbing over the mess and moving things around, trying to find any signs of Sally.
"Sally, where are you?"
No response.
"I need your advice." I searched inside a crate on one of the metal shelves in the corner of the basement. When it proved empty, I went to another shelf, checking every single box. I moved things around with a little too much force, including a creepy looking nutcracker with red eyes, but I didn’t care. I needed to work out some of my frustration and fears.
I dragged out a tote from the bottom of a shelf. "Sally, I need you. Daddy has completely lost it.” And possibly my one human friend had betrayed me. I didn’t want to believe it, but her interaction with Dalton left me wary.
Jenna and I weren't incredibly close. We couldn't be. Since I couldn't hang out with her outside of school, and since she had other friends she usually hung out with at lunch, our time together was limited.
But still. To take my journal, ask me to steal test answers, and now demand money? It didn't make sense. But she'd lied to me about what Dalton had given her. Why did she have to cover it up? What was it? Dalton was already high on my suspect list. He knew things about me that no one could have known unless they read the journal.
Dalton did need money. That was why he agreed to give me guitar lessons. It would make sense that he'd demand money from me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a wrench sticking out from under the metal shelving unit. I replaced the lid of the tote, shoved it back under the shelf, and went to where the wrench sat. Bending down, I picked it up and brushed off the dirt.
"Sally," I said. Half her wired hair was gone. Her dress was stiff from water damage. But she was still with me – I hadn't been completely abandoned.
"Do I still look pretty?" Sally asked.
I smiled as I curled one of her wires with my finger. "You'll always be pretty, Sally, no matter what."
"But my hair and dress." She sighed. "I look horrible, don't I? You're just being nice."
I sat down on the cement floor, the chill biting into my legs, and leaned gently against the shelf. "You don't need hair or a dress to be pretty. There’s beauty in everyone if you look in the right places."
"Enough about me. Why are you down here?"
"I lied to him," I whispered. But what could I have told him? That it was a blackmailer on the phone? Demanding money that I'd probably have to steal?
"Will you ever learn, Cora?"
I shook my head. "Apparently not."
I updated Sally on the journal and blackmailer situation. She remained quiet the whole time, even the times I had to pause to collect myself. Anger and hurt were two emotions that had overtaken me thanks to everything that was going on.
"You can't steal," she said. "It's a bad habit of yours."
"It started out as something so simple."
"It always does."
All I'd wanted was to have something that was mine. Journals that held my life and thoughts. It made me feel like I was still in control of some part of my life. But it didn't mean I liked stealing. I knew it was wrong and that I could be arrested for it. Yet, I couldn't stop.
"How else can I get that money?" I banged the back of my head against the shelf a couple times. Frustration took over my body, heat erupting in my veins.
"Make more cell phone holders," Sally said. "Ask Brendon for help."
Brendon did have a lot of plastic bottles for me. With all the fabric from Jenna's mom, I probably had enough to make fifty holders. I still had plenty of paint. If I could get them assembled, I'd just have to find a way to sell all of them. That would be even more difficult than the assembly.
The broken picture frame on the floor caught my eye. I crawled over to it and carefully removed the photo from the broken glass. The picture had been torn straight down the middle so only half remained. A little boy with sad, blue/gray eyes stared at me. The chubby man next to him towered above him, his hand gripping the boy’s shoulder tight. The man’s face had been ripped off as well.
The lock unlatched, and the basement door flung open. I stuffed Sally behind the mattress since it was the closest thing to me, and scrambled to my feet.
Daddy tromped down the stairs holding my backpack. "The school called. They're worried that you're missing too much school." His jaw clenched tight, and he shook my backpack at me. "I can't have
them getting suspicious. You'll be going to school tomorrow. But I'll lock you back up in the basement when you get home." He tossed the bag at me.
I caught it and held it tight against my chest. At least that meant I had Husky as well.
His glaring eyes took in the T-shirt I was wearing before he saw the picture gripped in my hand. He blew out a long breath. “That’s me as a boy. I was better than you’ve even been, and my father treated me so much worse. You’re lucky, Cora. Remember that.” He motioned to my bag. “There are bandages and cream in there – something I never got.”
I wasn’t sure how he expected me to apply them myself, but I didn’t want to start another storm, so I kept my mouth shut.
He stood tall with his chin tilted up. "Do your homework. Make your teachers happy." He started up the stairs.
I swallowed, a thick lump moving against my throat. "My mattress is ruined. Can I have something else to sleep on?"
His hand wrapped tightly around the handrail. "Why would you think you deserve that?" He stormed up the stairs and slammed the door.
I shivered as the lock clicked into place, my hand wrapping tightly around Husky.
Chapter 25
It had taken a while, and a lot of weird angles, but I’d managed to get some cream and bandages on my back. The next morning, Daddy fixed them all up for me. He had calmed, but he didn’t say one word to me all through breakfast and the drive to school.
During break, I found Brendon in the hallway talking with Jake and some of their other friends. I hated going over there with so many people watching, but it couldn’t wait.
Jake grinned when I approached. “Hey, Cora. Nice to see you again.”
I forced a return smile, even though I was eager to talk with Brendon. “Hi, Jake.”
Jake leaned against the locker they were near and folded his arms. “When are we going to hang out?”
“Soon.” I hated lying to him, especially since he seemed so nice, but I couldn’t really tell him my daddy wouldn’t allow it. I tugged on the sleeve of Brendon’s shirt. “Can we talk?”
Brendon’s eyebrows pinched together in worry, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
Before he could say anything else, I motioned for him to follow me down a short hallway near the bathroom. There wasn’t much traffic, so there was a smaller chance of being seen.
His shirt had a big, green, angry looking guy on it. “Oh, hey, look,” he said, pointing to it. “It’s your dad. On a regular day, he’s a nice, small guy. But then . . .” He threw up his hands and made a sound like an explosion. When I frowned in confusion, he grinned. “I was kidding.”
"I need your help," I said, wanting to change the subject. He’d described Daddy perfectly.
Brendon rubbed the back of his neck. "That seems to be your favorite thing to say to me."
A blush crawled up my neck to my cheeks. I wasn’t used to asking for help. But with hardly getting any sleep on the cement floor, I was running on fumes."I don't have anyone else I can trust."
"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you come to me." He tapped my arm. "I just like to see you blush."
The blush deepened, and I stared at the black flecks on the linoleum tile.
He gently touched my chin. “What happened?”
“What?” I ran my finger along the nicks from Daddy’s fingernails. “Oh, I scratched myself.”
He narrowed his eyes like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. He picked at a fraying Band-Aid on his finger. "What can I do to help?"
"They called me again," I whispered, keeping my eyes unfocused on a fleck on the ground.
"Who? The person who has your journal?"
I nodded. "They have another demand."
He swore under his breath. "What is it now?"
"Money." Taking hold of Husky, I rubbed him with my thumb. A part of me wished I had snuck Sally out of the basement so I could’ve had her with me. But the other part wanted her with me when I was locked down in the cold basement. She helped me through it. Kept me from exploding in frustration and loneliness.
Brendon took my free hand and warmth ignited in me. My hand fit so perfectly in his. "I hate this. They're demanding impossible things."
I finally looked him in the eye. "It's better than them revealing all my secrets to the world."
He stepped in close, our body inches from each other. "Would that be such a bad thing? I don't like the way your father treats you."
Letting go of his hand, I pushed him away. "Yes, it would be a bad thing. I love Daddy. I don't want to be taken from him." I had no idea why I was defending him, but I couldn’t stop myself. I still cared for him – he had done a lot for me. Suddenly, I found it hard to breathe. I wanted to run home and lock myself in the basement, curl up on the floor with Sally and forget everything. Not deal with school, blackmailers, and storms I couldn’t control.
Although, it wouldn't fix anything. If I locked myself away, the person would reveal the truth. I'd be taken from my home, Daddy would be thrown into prison, and I’d be alone. I didn't want that.
Brendon took a tentative step toward me. "I'm sorry, Cora." His jaw clenched like he wanted to yell or something, but he just briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "How much money do they want?"
"Five hundred." I leaned against the wall. "I was thinking I could make a bunch of cell phone bands and sell them."
"That's a good idea." He ran his hand over the top of his hair. "How long do you have?"
"A week."
He pulled out his phone and moved his fingers across the screen. I'd never had a cell phone, so I had no idea what he, or anyone else, were doing when they looked at their phone. It seemed to hold a lot of information for them.
"There's a big basketball game next Tuesday night." His thumb continued to move along the screen. "How about I come over this weekend and help you make them?"
"Dad would never allow you to come over."
He stuffed his phone into his band he always wore on his arm. "I know. That's why we won't tell him. I'll come over at night when he thinks you've gone to bed."
I folded my arms close against my chest. "I don't know exactly when it will be every night. He doesn't have a regular schedule." I always thought he’d kept things random on purpose. That way I’d be off guard at all times.
Smiling, Brendon pulled a phone from his backpack and held it out to me. "That's why I got you this."
I stared at the cell phone in his hand. It was small and simple and looked way different than the ones he and Jenna had. "You got me a phone?"
"It's just a burner."
I looked up at him, my eyebrows scrunched together. "A burner?"
A tiny smile pulled at his lips. "It just means it's not registered under anyone's name. It's not traceable. You use it for a little while and then throw it away. It doesn't have a lot of minutes on it."
I took it from his hand, our fingers grazing each other. The warmth lingered, and I wished it would never leave. "Minutes?" I turned it over, trying to understand how it all worked.
Brendon took a deep breath and then explained it to me, showing me what all the buttons did and how I could call him. He'd stored his number in the phone for me.
"Use it to let me know when I can come over this weekend," he said. "Otherwise, just use it in case of an emergency. I'll come right over."
A weird sensation took over my heart. It felt warm, and my heartbeat was unsteady, beating wildly. My skin tingled all over, but all in a good way. I'd never had someone do something like that for me. Bought me something so valuable or cared about what happened to me.
I gently put the phone in the bottom of my backpack and then threw my arms around him. "Thank you."
Brendon held me close, holding strong and sure. "You're welcome."
My back stung from the beating I'd received from Daddy, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to be in Brendon's arms and feel his warmth around me. He looked after me and didn't ask for anything in return – he didn't
demand anything from me.
"Why?" I whispered in his ear. "Why do you keep helping me?"
He pulled back enough so he could look at me. "Because you don't deserve anything that's happening to you. You're smart, sweet, and beautiful." He yanked on my braid. "Because I like you. You’re stronger than you think you are." He placed his warm hand on my cheek. "Don't ever forget that. You deserve to be happy."
That overwhelming sensation to kiss him came rushing back, paralyzing me. I finally understood what Daddy always said about hormones. How they'd overtake your body and leave you confused. He told me I could never trust my hormones since they were uncontrollable and unreliable.
For the moment, I didn't want them to be controlled. I wanted to remember the feeling forever.
Brendon leaned in close, and when I didn't pull away, he pressed his lips to mine. He moved softly, not forcing any of it like I’d worried a kiss could be from a guy. My hand found the way to the back of his neck and rested there, feeling the heat of his skin under my fingertips. Way too soon, he pulled away.
"I'll get the fabric from Jenna, and we can start making the bands tonight," he said, still holding me close. "Will that be okay?"
I nodded, unable to find any words. My heart hadn't calmed. My blood burned, my lips pulsing with the pressure of his lips.
"Everything will be okay, Cora. I promise. We'll figure this out together." He clasped his hands behind me, between my shirt and my backpack. It stung ever so slightly, but I didn't say anything. Being in his arms felt safe, like nothing – and no one – could harm me.
A thought occurred to me. "We can't make them in my room."
"Your dad won't catch me, I promise."
"It's not that. The bars." I glanced down, embarrassed. "No offense, but I don't think you could fit through them."
He frowned. "Ouch."
My cheeks flared. I opened my mouth to apologize, but Brendon let out a small laugh.
"It's okay. There's hardly any room. I'm amazed you fit through there." His fingers tapped against my back. "How about I come get you, and then we can go back to my place and make them?"