by Katilyn S
I was still a wild child even then. I alway broke the rules. So, almost every night I would crawl into his crib with him and sleep next to him. My mom would alway find me in there and scold me, but she laughed while she did it, so I knew it was okay.”
Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. I handed her the coffee mug and she took it graciously. She took a sip and smiled shyly at me.
“When I was nine, the fighting started. At first it was little things, like how my mom was home later than she was supposed to be. Then it got down to the fact that my dad thought that my mom wasn’t paying her share for the house and everything. At night, I could here them arguing. It would start quietly until my dad started yelling at her.
It usually ended with a crash and my mom coming upstairs into my room. She would crawl in bed with me, tears coming down her face. Sometimes there was a new bruise on her face or her fingers would be crooked.
A few days after I turned ten, the divorce papers were signed and she was on her way to California. My dad, Alex and I stayed in Georgia, trading our old house for a smaller, cheaper one. I would then be the one to take care of my brother. I would feign sick so that I could be there for him when the babysitter couldn’t. Somehow, I was able to slip through middle school without getting caught.”
I watched as she took a few deep breaths. I could see that it was hard for her to open up. I wanted to tell her to stop but I knew she wouldn’t listen to me. So, I let her continue on.
“The beatings began after I turned 12. First off, it was because I was coming home a little late. It would only be two minutes but he didn’t care. We were nothing to him. He would yell at me. Soon it go to the point where he would hit me. Then to the point where he would beat me mercilessly.
One day, when I was 14, I had had a really good day at school. I came home at the same time I usually do and I was smiling for a change-a cute guy had asked me out. When I got inside, I realized my dad was on one of his drunk rampages. I tried to steer clear by going into my room to start on my homework. I was halfway through my work when my dad threw my door open and attacked me.
Micahel, he....he,” she stuttered and then fell silent. I placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled warmly.
“Go on,” I urged, wanting to hear the rest of the story. I saw a tear slip down her face and she nodded silently.
“That night he raped me,” she whispered. I knew she felt my body go rigid. Fire burned dimly in my eyes. She watched me carefully, to see how I would react. I took my hand away and stood up. “Michael.”
“Give me a minute,” I managed through clenched teeth. I paced the room for a few minutes trying to calm down. Finally, I took a deep breath and sat back down. Claire placed a hand on my arm and left it there.
“You okay?” she asked. I nodded, my lips in a tight line.
“Go ahead,” I told her.
“A few weeks after he raped me, I noticed something was missing. So I went to the doctor and found out that I was pregnant.” She watched my expression turn from anger to shock. “At fourteen. I couldn’t be pregnant at fourteen. So, I didn’t tell anybody and went to a free clinic to get an abortion. A couple of days later I was doing fine, like nothing had ever happened. I still have scar from it too.”
She lifted her tank top and I gasped at the pale lines crisscrossing down her flat stomach. They ran all along her skin and looked like they continued on her back. She ran a finger across one, wincing as she did.
“He would cut me when I yelled at him,” she explained. I leaned back and gasped in horror. The lines crossing her body spelled out the word ‘ugly’. I closed my eyes and grimaced.
“Oh my God,” I whispered in agony.
“He would spell it out over and over again with his knife. I got used to the pain after a little while.
Four days after getting the abortion, I turned 15. That afternoon I went out with my friends and went shopping and got our nails done. When I got home, my dad was waiting for me. He beat me, saying that I was worthless. I ran away that night.
I had already planned to run away, but after he beat me, I knew that my decision was the right one. That night, I packed the rest of my stuff away and left. My friend took me to the airport and I took a flight to New York City where I live now.”
She stopped talking for a minute to wipe at the tears coming down her eyes. She took in a shaky breath and looked at me.
“Claire, that’s-” She held up a finger and I stopped, watching her.
“I’m not finished yet,” she explained. I nodded sympathetically.
“Sorry,” I apologized and held my arms open. She slithered into them and rested her cheek against my chest. She took my hand and squeezed tightly, telling me not to let go.
“When I got to New York, I called my mom. I barely had any money and I looked like a mess with a newly made black eye. When she picked up, I told her everything. She listened quietly and when I was finished she told me one thing before hanging up. She said, ‘I’m going to help you.’
Later that week I was applying for a high school. She had sent all my papers to the principal, stating that I lived with my ‘aunt’ here in New York City. We lied through our teeth. And they believed it all. Two weeks later, I was a new student with a part time job as a waitress at a diner. I didn’t make any friends and stayed away from people as best I could.
Oh, they tried. They tried to be my friend, but I couldn’t let them. I couldn’t open up because I felt like I was going to be betrayed again.
I know it sounds silly, but I felt that if I disappointed anybody, then they would hit me or beat me. Because that’s what my dad would do to me. So, I was distant and did my school work and went to work right after school let up.”
“Where did you live?” I asked, interrupting her. She laughed coldly.
“Here. There. Everywhere. Usually, I slept on the streets.” She shrugged at my shocked expression. “I would have to get up before a cop noticed me though. My kind wasn’t allowed on the streets. I remember one week, this lady let me share her ‘home’. It was a couple of cardboard boxes and blankets, but I didn’t care. I was going to be warm that night.
The next morning, I left at sunrise. I knew not to get close to people.
Somehow, I made it through high school without any problems. I graduated with all A’s and had gotten a diploma. At the time, I hadn’t known what I wanted to do. I couldn’t go to college. I didn’t have any money saved up. So I took two years off, trying to get money to go to college. By then, I had a full time job at the diner and I had finally found a place of my own.”
“Where?” I had to interrupt again. She smiled weakly at me.
“This run down apartment. It was dirt cheap and easy to access. Although, it wasn’t the safest part of the city. There were a few shootings and a stabbing on the floors around me.
Right after I turned nineteen; that was when the money came. My mom sent me loads of cash, telling me that she was a wealthy lawyer in California. Her dream. I used a lot of it to pay for college. I had wanted to be a teacher. An art teacher.
So, four years later, I had a teaching degree and a new, better apartment. That’s where I lived before coming here. I found a job at an art high school and here I am today.”
She smiled up at me through her tears and I let out a sigh. Using my finger, I wiped a few tears of her face and ran a hand through her hair.
“I don’t see why you can’t do.....us,” I said.
“You don’t see why?” she questioned. I shook my head and she frowned. “I don’t want to be hurt, Michael. My mom was hurt and she left. My dad beat her. They didn’t love each other. They just said they did. In the end, my mom left with nothing. And she left us there. She left us there. It was as if we didn’t matter to her.”
She realized that she was ranting and clamped her mouth shut. I cupped my hand around her chin and she looked up into my green eyes.
“Claire, I will never beat you. That is wrong. Truthfully and honestly
? I love you and I will never do anything to hurt you,” I proclaimed. Suddenly my eyes widened and I looked down at her. She was staring at me in bewilderment, but her eyes detected at happiness. “Never.”
“Hm,” she murmured.
“Where does Alex come into this?” I asked quickly. She froze after I asked the question and grimaced.
“Alex,” she muttered and sat up a little straighter, making it impossible for me to hold her. “Oh, Alex.”
Chapter 18-September 5, 2001 (Claire)
“Yes, Alex,” Michael repeated. “How did he end up with you?”
“This is a shorter story,” I explained and he nodded, smiling mockingly at me. I rolled my eyes and dried another tear.
“Go on,” he said and waited impatiently for me to start. I took in a deep breath.
“After I moved here, I rarely spoke or heard from Alex. He was always quiet; encased in his own little world. But, he loved music and art. He is a great drawer and can play the piano really well. That’s all he wanted to do since he was little. At age four, he got his first instument; a little piano. He started playing and we were amazed at how quickly he learned new pieces. I had always thought that he would end up somewhere big.
Once Alex turned sixteen, he went out to celebrate with some of his friends. They snuck into a bar and caused a great deal of trouble. The police showed up and arrested him and his friends, taking them to jail. My dad showed up and put on a good front for the police. Hugging Alex and saying that he was glad he was okay.
The ride home was silent. Alex knew what was going to happen when they got home. He was trying to prepare himself for it.”
My breath was coming out in short, shallow gasps and I closed my eyes. I couldn’t let the tears come out again. Not now.
“What did your dad do?” Michael muttered. Even he knew what was coming. I smiled weakly.
“After they got home, my dad started yelling at him. Alex picked a bad decision and started yelling back. My dad hit him and they got into it. It stopped after my dad threw a glass vase at him. It shattered and Alex had to go the the hospital, with shards covering his arms.
The next week he showed up at my doorstep with stitches in his skin and bruises all over his face. I let him in and he started high school here. We haven’t heard from our dad yet.”
I noticed that I was crying again and groaned.
“You okay?” Michael asked. I looked over at him and noticed tears brimming his eyes too. I nodded numbly and tried to smile at him.
“I just can’t believe he did that to us,” I stated. Michael nodded his agreement and frowned.
“Why can’t you go to the police?” he asked.
“Because they will take Alex away. I can’t let that happen. He is all I have left. The only person I can trust and love. He would never hurt me. He is like my twin. My other half,” I sobbed. I covered my eyes and I let the tears fall. Michael placed a hand on my back and started rubbing.
“I’m sorry, Claire,” he murmured. Suddenly his voice got hard and tense. “But you lied.”
“What?” I was astonished. “No I didn’t. That whole story is the truth. I would never lie to you.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the part where you said that he is ‘the only person you can trust and love’. That is a total and complete lie. You trust me. I can see it in your eyes. And you trust me enough to tell me these stories of you past. And I know you love me. I know it.” He finished his little rant and leaned back on the couch. I stared at him for a moment before answering.
“I may trust you, but I don’t love you,” I shot back. Michael shrugged and smiled.
“I think you do,” he said and leaned closer to me. He pressed his lips to my cheek, leaving behind a trail of fire. He pulled away too soon and stood up. He dropped my hand and smiled wistfully.
“But,” I started. He raised his eyebrows and I fell silent.
“I won’t see you until Friday,” he stated. It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “I have to work today and tomorrow. I will be here at seven to take you and Alex to breakfast on Friday. Oh, and Claire?”
“Yeah?” I looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear a sarcastic remark.
“I love you,” he said and winked at me. Without saying another word, he walked away, letting himself out of the door. I looked down at my empty mug of coffee and frowned.
I took a quick glance at the kitchen clock; it said that it was already 9:30. Sighing, I stumbled into my bedroom. I jumped onto my bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. Soon enough, I was falling asleep, my snores echoing through the empty apartment.
-------------------------------------------------
“Claire,” someone called my name. “Claire, wake up. It’s Thursday morning.”
“Ungh. Leave me alone,” I mumbled, waving the person away. My blankets were yanked from me and I could feel the chill of the air coming through the vent in the ceiling. “What?”
“Claire you have to get up. You stayed in bed all day yesterday, crying and sleeping. Today, get up and move around. Go read a book. Go to the school. Go do something!” Alex exclaimed and tugged on a strand of my hair. I opened my eyes and looked pointedly at him. His green eyes hinted at disapproval and I groaned. Sitting up, I stretched my hands over my head.
“Okay. Okay, let me get dressed and we will go to the park,” I compromised and he smiled in victory.
“Fantastic, I will go get dressed too,” he said and ran out of my room. I laughed to myself and slid out of bed.
I put on a pair of shorts and a tight, running t-shirt. I pulled my hair back into a small ponytail, making a mental reminder to get it cut before school started. I threw on my running shoes and walked out of the door.
Alex was waiting by the front door, a grin on his face. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. A baseball cap rested on his head and he had put on a pair of Vans. He smiled as he picked up our backpack, which was filled with the essentials. I laughed and pushed him out of the door.
--------------------------------------------------
A half hour later, we were walking into the park. I noticed it was busy for a summer day. Families were picnicking on the grass, teens were hanging out by the fountain, and kids were playing on the swingset.
Alex and I found an empty spot and set down our stuff. I grabbed my iPod from a pocket in the backpack. I plugged in my earbuds and glanced at Alex. He was watching these two girls work their way across the clearing.
“Alex,” I called out. He looked over at me, startled. “I’m going to run around for a while. I will meet you back here in a little while.”
“Okay,” he said distractedly. “I will see you later.”
He turned his attention back to the girls and smiled. I giggled silently and left him to his teenage antics. I walked onto the walkway, stretching my legs as I did so. I pressed play on my iPod and as the music started to play, I began to run.
I listened to loud rap music, making it difficult to think about anything else. It was just what I needed. I pushed myself faster whenever I began to think about him.
After the first lap, my calves began to burn, but I paid no attention to them. I turned the volume up and listened as Eminem rapped about his life. Suddenly, my mind wandered to Michael.
I don’t love him. I may trust him but I don’t love him. Do I?
“I think you do.” Isn’t that what he said. How does he know what I think or feel? Why am I so out a wack with my emotions. Maybe I should just pass this off as a sign of PMS. Or maybe I should listen to my brain.
But I can’t love him. I can’t. I won’t be hurt, like that again. Ever. Ugh. What do I do? Help me!
I stopped thinking about him as I caught sight of Alex sitting down on the clearing. He was sitting with a girl that looked to be his age. She had long brown hair, with bright streaks of red, blue and purple in it. She had dark skin-I think she was a latino-and had wide eyes. She was smiling and laughing at something Alex said.
He touched her bare shoulder and she flipped her hair over her shoulder. She laughed again and pressed her lips to his cheek. Then, she stood up and walked off. Alex watched her go with longing before turning away. He spotted me and waved excitedly. I waved back and he gestured for me to go over there.
“No,” I mouthed and pointed to the track ahead of me. I wanted to continue running. He nodded as if he understood and turned his head back to the book he was looking at. I continued on, trying to let my mind wander.
At least Alex can love. He wasn’t old enough to remember mom and dad fighting. God, how I envy him.
I wish I was strong enough to let myself love Michael. I don’t need to be afraid anymore. I will not be scared of love anymore.
Because I do. I love him. With all of my heart.
Suddenly, I froze in my tracks and gasped. I replayed the words over and over again, trying to find the hidden meaning in the letters. Then, I decided to try them out on my lips.
“I love him,” I muttered. “I love Michael Herring.”
Chapter 19-September 7, 2001 (Michael)
“Claire,” I murmured and jumped into the shower. It was 6:30 in the morning and I had thirty minutes before I was supposed to meet Claire and Alex outside. In the shower, I scrubbed fiercely, erasing away all remains of smoke on my body.
Once I got out, I shrugged on a brown polo and a pair of cargo shorts. I ran a hand through my damp hair and shrugged. I really didn’t care how I looked as long as Claire was with me. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror before grabbing my wallet and heading out of the door.
I tried my best not to run down the stairs. My adrenaline was going through the roof and I felt my heartbeat quicken as I thought of her. When I got outside, I saw Claire waiting by a cab at the curb. She turned, saw me and waved.
She was wearing a white, flowing skirt-something I was surprised that she owned-and a tight, black tee that rode up her stomach showing a sliver of exposed skin. I found myself wanteing to reach out and touch her. She wore a pair of black flats and her hair was in curls around her face. Her eyes were bright and excited, coated in a shade of black that made the grey pop.