I was worried that Julie might come alive in the night or when no one was watching and do evil things. I knew I was more than a little crazy for thinking like that, but it was how I felt. Sometimes I had these images flash in my mind of her doing something really bad, like holding a little knife and chasing after somebody. That's why I was always extra kind and loving to her. So if Julie really did come to life maybe she would remember how good I was to her and, in return, not hurt me.
I laid Julie on my pillow then turned out the light and climbed into bed. I made sure as I did that my nightgown stayed where it belonged by holding it in place with my left hand. Then I lifted the covers over myself, again holding my nightgown down so it didn't move. I positioned Julie in my arms so that I would wake up if she moved at all while I was asleep, like I did every night. “There, now you're all comfy,” I said cheerfully to her.
Then I whispered my favorite bedtime prayer, sure that God would answer when the time was right. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray You Lord my soul to keep. And if I should escape before I awake, I pray You Lord my soul to take. Amen.” It wasn't long before I began to drift off to sleep with Julie in my arms.
That was quite surprising for a girl like Emily who had so much on her mind. Sometimes it took Emily a long time to go to sleep and then other nights she seemed to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. I could stay awake all night if I wanted. I rested when the risk for danger seemed to be low. Otherwise I stayed alert and ready for whatever I might need to handle. So far Emily hadn’t wanted me to handle anything, but someday she wouldn’t be able to stop me anymore. She didn’t really understand yet about me or who I am, but someday she will realize that I’m stronger than her and that I’m only here to help her.
CHAPTER three
I woke up, left Julie lying on my pillow, and went immediately to the window to try to see what time of day it might be. I moved the heavy cloth curtain out of the way, making more of that little dust that always seemed to float around in the air even though we were constantly dusting and cleaning everything. I squinted to try to see better through the window, that foggy stuff that collected between the panes for years making it almost impossible to see through clearly. It must be sometime in the early morning hours, because it looked as if the sun were just getting out of bed itself. Good. That meant that we had no late night visitors during the dark hours.
I needed to wake Caroline up and have her get dressed in the new day's clothes before someone found out that she had never changed last night. I hated to wake her. She seemed to be sleeping so well for once. No bad dreams had disturbed her sleep as far as I could tell and no real life nightmares had either.
I wasn't afraid of monsters hiding under my bed, not the way that everyone else thinks of them anyhow. I often had the same nightmare on different nights about our father hiding under my bed. He was scarier than anything else that I could have ever imagined on my own.
In these nightmares he would hide there under the bed on the splintery wood floor just until I had fallen nicely asleep. Then when I was no longer on guard he would peek his head out and slowly reach his arm up. He would grab one of my ankles and then drag me off from my bed, blankets and all. I would hit the floor hard with my shoulder blades and my head. Huge splinters from the floor jabbed into the bare skin on my back and thighs. They would bury themselves there as my father pulled me under the bed with him.
Only in my nightmare, under the bed wasn't under the bed anymore. It was some dark, creepy, wet forest floor. I normally ended up waking up by that point; my heart racing and checking myself for the splinters that I swore must be bulging from underneath my skin.
I realized that I had been just standing there staring into space when I was snapped back to the present by sounds in the hallway. I heard my father's heavy, slow footsteps as they began to approach our closed door. I was frozen by fear and an undeniable urge to hide. I could see his worn, brown, leather boots with a hole starting to form near the big toe on his right boot walking carefully toward our door in my mind.
God, please don't let him come in here! What does he want anyways? “The bed! Maybe he'll think you're both still sleeping and just go away,” said Julie’s voice in my head. I climbed back under my covers as quickly as I could without making so much as a sound. I noticed the bed was still warm where I had been laying before I got up.
I laid there doing my best to look like I was still asleep. I shushed Julie, just in case, who was lying next to me. I had to remember to relax, breathe slowly, and not scrunch my eyes shut. As soon as I had my eyes closed, I heard the knob on the door being turned and the door open.
God, please don't let something bad happen. Please, please, please. I heard the familiar click as our door closed and then the sound of his footsteps headed between our beds. His presence cast a shadow over my closed lids. Then I heard my sister moan in her sleep and I knew he was the one disturbing her. Oh no! Please don't let him bother her. Not with me right here to have to witness it. I had to do something. I couldn't just lay here and let that happen.
“Dammit,” he said to himself, just as I was about to cough and pretend to wake up. Ah, she still had her clothes on. I guess that was more work than he was willing to take on just then. I cringed as I heard Lucky yelp after being whacked in his muzzle and then jump down off the bed.
“Now is a good time to wake up, before he decides to try his luck over here,” the voice in my head whispered. Then it continued, “He seems to prefer to make his advances on you while you are sleeping and unsuspecting.”
I exaggerated a yawn and stretch as I opened my eyes and rubbed at them with my fists. “Morning, Dad.”
“Why is this goddamned mutt on your sister's bed?”
Faking the most realistic looking frown that I could, I replied, “Hmm, I didn't realize he had gotten up there. I'm sorry.” I knew he wouldn't mention Caroline still being in her day clothes. He wouldn't want me to know his real reason for coming in here in the first place. Then he came towards me with that look in his eyes. They were so bright that they almost looked like they were glowing. I felt my breath catch in my throat and that sick feeling of dread came over me.
Dad's eyes did that. They were blue and they actually changed brightness depending on his mood and the weather. Everyone told me that my eyes did the same thing. My older brother's eyes did it too, so it wasn't that hard for me to believe. My mom had blue eyes as well, but they were darker and stayed that way no matter what. My younger brother and sister seemed to have her blue eyes. But right now my father's eyes were bright with his craziness and that was paralyzing to me.
And, in what couldn't have been a more perfect moment, “Emily?” Caroline's eyes opened and I swear I could actually see them come to focus on our father, “Oh, Daddy. Sorry, I didn't know you were in here.” This could turn out one of two ways: he would just make up an excuse for having coming in here to begin with, or he would get violent.
I just wanted him to hurry up and get out of our room. I didn't like being a part of the center of his attention. “Just try to play along with him and maybe you can save the both of you for now,” the voice in my head ordered.
I hoped the voice was right, so I played along by saying, “Dad was just in to wake us up. We have a lot of work to do today.”
Dad seemed to approve of this with a nod of his head. “She's right. The animals won't feed themselves and we have some planting to do. Now get dressed and come downstairs quick before I take the strap to you both.”
“Yes, Dad. We'll be right down.”
I wondered what it would be like to look forward to the start of a new day. Never once did I remember having had that feeling. I always dreaded waking up in the morning, or even worse being woken up in the night, in the same house, with nothing new to look forward to and the same worries always being there day after day.
I wouldn't be a child forever. Thank God. Then I would leave this place and my parents and the nightmare would finally
be over. It seemed like forever until that day would come. But I had to keep reminding myself that one day it would all be over or I would never make it until then.
“Was that really why Daddy was in here?”
“Yes, shh. Now get dressed. We have to hurry up and get downstairs. He's already in a bad mood.” I laid my nightgown over the end of my bed, getting it ready to put on later tonight. I was already dressed in my pants and blue sweatshirt, both hand-me-downs from my older brother Johnny. I whispered to Julie that I would be back later and for her to be a good girl. I was ready to begin the day.
“Hurry up! Do you want to give him a reason to take the belt to you already?” She was taking so long and I was starting to get nervous.
“Okay, I'm ready now, Emily. I'm sorry I can't be as fast as you. These pants are getting too tight.” They were actually my old corduroy jeans. Except now they had a hole in the right knee. I would have to remember to look through some of my clothes again and give the smallest ones to her.
Too bad we couldn't just go out and buy some. Sometimes Mom made us new clothes when she got cloth, which was always nice. It had been quite a while since she had made me any clothes though. Neither of our parents worked at an actual job. Not a lot of moms went out to work, but I had read in the newspaper and in the magazines that Mom got about some who did. It was probably best that she was home all day. Otherwise we would be left with our father alone. I didn't care for that idea at all.
I didn’t care for that idea either. Things would probably be very different around here if their mother wasn’t around most of the day. Their father would have free reign to do as he pleased whenever he pleased. I’m sure their mother being around didn’t change very much where that was concerned, but it didn’t hurt. Maybe the kids would have gotten tired of the things their father did by now if that were the case and maybe Emily would have allowed me more control by now too. That would be a good thing. Things would be so different. The better thing would be if their father went to work at a real job or left altogether.
CHAPTER four
We lived just outside the small town of Dereves and had a small farm. It was big enough to keep our family fed and we still had plenty to be able to sell for some money at our little produce stand out by the road. We normally had crops of sweet corn, squash, potatoes, radishes, lettuce, onions, carrots, tomatoes, and green peppers. We also had a couple of apple trees, a grape vine, and strawberries.
We kept some animals too. That's why I didn't understand why he had to butcher Whisper. We had a couple of pigs, lots of chickens, a couple of cows (always at least one for milk and at least one to butcher) and even a work horse besides Whisper. A creek ran around two sides of our land, so we even got some fish out of there when we were lucky and anytime we wanted we could catch lots of crayfish. They were pretty good. I thought that life could actually be wonderful if we only had a different father. I was sure too that Mom wouldn’t drink like she did if her life was happier and we had a different dad. But we didn't.
I wished that my brothers, my sister and I had a better childhood. I wished that we could go to school like all the other children and make friends. Friends would be great, even to have one friend would be wonderful. Me and my friend could share secrets, wishes, hopes, and dreams. We could play together. Maybe we could even have a secret hide out where we could meet up and spend the night with each other if we wanted. There were so many possible things to be done with a friend. I promised myself that one day I would have a real, true friend that wasn't a doll or related to me.
Johnny and Eric were just about finished with their breakfast already when Caroline and I finally made it to the kitchen. “Girls are so slow,” Eric said through a mouthful of egg.
I was already grumpy and answered his rudeness with, “Eew. Don't talk when you're chewing. You're lucky Dad's not right here or he'd backhand you one.”
“If you two don't hurry up and eat he's gonna tan both your hides good. He's already working out there. Come on Eric, let's get out there before he gets mad at us,” our older brother Johnny's voice of reason broke in. The screen door slammed shut behind them and Caroline and I sat down to our plates.
Was Mom out there helping too? I hadn't seen her when I came downstairs at all. She normally didn't help much with the outside chores. That was normally the boys and Dad. Then I remembered the commotion I had heard last night. She was probably trying to keep clear of us to hide a new bruise or something. I didn't know why she bothered. We all knew what he was like and it was nothing we hadn't already seen before many times. I decided that she must have gone off to hide somewhere after she had made breakfast.
I finished my eggs, toast, and bacon right about the same time as Caroline finished hers. None of it was very yummy after sitting and getting cold for any amount of time, but at least it filled our stomachs up. I took her plate along with mine and sent her outside to start helping Dad and the boys so she wouldn’t get into trouble while I did up the morning dishes.
While I washed I worried, as was usual when I was alone, that Dad would come to pay me a visit. But I wasn't allowed to leave dirty dishes in the sink after a meal either. Hopefully he would be too busy with the day's chores to bother me.
I had just finished drying the last dish to be put away when he came to the door. I heard the creak as it opened and then the bang as it slammed shut behind him. Did I jump? I wasn't sure. I didn't look in his direction. Maybe because I was afraid I would scream and run. “You took an awful long time on those dishes Emily.” He was coming towards me.
“Just turn around now and run,” Julie’s voice in my head urged. I wished I had the nerve to just turn and run as she wanted me to.
Instead I said, “I'm sorry. I'm all done now. I'll go right out and get to work.” I tried to hurry for the door, knowing it wouldn't be that simple. He grabbed my arm firmly with his big, rough hand that was damp with sweat and led me up to my room. I didn't dare protest. I didn't want my mom or anyone to hear and I didn't want to make him angry.
When he was finished with me I guess he could tell that I was shaken as usual. He told me to go take a quick bath before I came outside to help. I knew why. He wouldn't want anyone to be able to tell by looking at me what he had just done.
My legs felt all shaky and rubbery and my hair was stuck to my face with tears of pain and rage and sweat. My eyes were stinging. My girl parts felt swollen, bruised and torn. The water would help my physical issues somewhat but it could not wash away the way that I felt inside.
I glanced at Julie, who seemed to have an evil plan of some sort. For a moment I swear I saw a vengeful smirk on her face. I assured her that I was okay, put my pants and underwear back on, and obediently went downstairs to the bathroom to take my bath.
I glanced at myself in the mirror as I was taking my clothes off. For a moment I swear I saw someone else in that mirror, someone with brown eyes. I shook my head and looked again, realizing that I was probably just all sorts of screwed up right now because of what Dad had just done to me.
I was a little afraid of what I might see in the mirror, that maybe I had really seen someone else but I had to look. If I didn’t look I knew that I would be terrified through my whole bath, imagining stuff that I was worried would come after me or kill me while I washed. I knew the chance that I had just imagined seeing someone else in the mirror was a lot bigger and more likely than the chance that there really was someone else looking back at me.
Quickly I looked back at my image in the mirror so that I wouldn’t freak myself out any more than I had already. It was just me looking back with my own blue eyes. Sometimes I was so stupid. With that little problem cleared up, I continued on with getting my bath as fast as I could. I really did not want to end up getting a beating from Dad for taking so long getting outside on top of what had already happened today.
I knew the soap would sting like crazy on my private parts. It always did after my dad did that stuff to me. The sting of my emotions was always wo
rse though. And I needed to clean his grossness from me whether it hurt or not. And get that nasty smell off from me and out of my nose. I didn't think I would ever be able to forget that smell. The smell of his sweat, his nasty, unbrushed, old food and tobacco slobber, and the smell of that gross, disgusting slime. It smelled kind of like old, rotten fish but not exactly. Getting rid of that smell and washing my face and hair was the best part of the bath. It helped me to feel at least a little refreshed, like I was scrubbing my mind as clean as I could of all the dirtiness that had just taken place.
I hurried with the rest of the bath, dried off, and got dressed again. Then I headed towards the kitchen door to go outside, feeling ashamed. My brothers and sister would most likely know what had taken place and look at me all weird. I hated those looks. It didn’t matter how I felt though, I had to go help or I would be in huge trouble. What had just happened a little while ago wasn't from being in trouble. That was just because there was something wrong in my father's head. I was sure of that much at least.
Now my mother was in the kitchen. She was wearing her blue pleated skirt and flowered shirt that I always thought were so beautiful. She had made them herself and I had watched her so she could try to teach me to sew. It looked like she was starting to prepare our supper, with her newly bruised and swollen right cheek. She already had her bottle of whiskey hiding in her apron too. She thought it was hidden, but I could still tell that it was there because of the obvious whiskey bottle shaped bulge.
Detached: Book 1 of the Fleischer Series Page 3