Whether or not I should tell my mother about my panic attack rattled around my head all weekend. I had felt a lot better after a long nap on Sunday, and I didn’t feel like there had been any damage done, so I didn’t tell her. I decided that if it happened again, I would say something.
I had enjoyed eating dinner in silence and had fun watching a movie with my mother, while Phil conveniently worked on something in the garage most of Sunday night. It had given me more time to come up with a plan to improve my life.
Sitting in Health on Monday afternoon, I stared at Zack. I didn’t have the courage to ask him what had happened Saturday night at his house, though he looked like he was favoring his left arm. He was pretending that everything was normal, but I saw him wince during lunch when Kris accidentally elbowed him.
I was so angry that no one else in this school noticed what Zack or I were going through that I lost my sanity for a brief moment. After class, I approached Scott, the one person who should have been able to see Zack limping, or wincing in pain. He should have at least noticed that both of us were living in a constant state of emotional shock.
“I should have the quizzes from yesterday graded by tomorrow, Alicia,” Scott said as I stood in front of his desk as the other students filed out.
I shook my head and steadied myself, but I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t have proof that Zack was in trouble and I feared that Zack’s father would talk his way out of whatever I accused him of doing. I thought about telling Scott that Phil was a monster, but feared the consequences. Phil would make my life miserable if I failed to gain the support of someone in the real world.
Scott looked up from the pile of tests and put his hand out to touch my arm, but I recoiled. “Is there something you need to talk about, Alicia?” He sounded concerned, but was hesitant to jump to any conclusions.
I finally shook my head and turned to leave.
He stood up and took a step toward me. “If you are in trouble, we can go to Mrs. Kern and talk to her together,” he said sympathetically.
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” I replied before I turned and left the room.
I ran to the bathroom and cried. I wanted to tell Scott or Mrs. Kern what was happening, but having people learn my secret only to be accused by Phil would be worse than keeping my mouth shut. He was too smart and he would talk his way out of trouble. If they believed his version of things, I would remain a prisoner, knowing that I had no way of escaping. I wouldn’t be able to handle that. Instead, I had to find a way to show the world what he was doing to me and how much I hated him for it. I had to prove that Zack was the victim and his father was a true abuser. It was the only choice I had left.
At the end of the day, Megan pulled me aside before the buses arrived. I was afraid that she had noticed my blotchy face in History and was going to ask what was wrong with me.
“My birthday is Wednesday and my mom wants to take us shopping and have cake afterward at the house. Do you want to come?” she asked, though she seemed hesitant, as if I would tell her no.
“Of course I’ll come,” I smiled.
She sighed in relief. “Awesome. I wasn’t sure if you would be allowed to come over during a weeknight. My uncle is coming this weekend, so my mom wanted to have the party sooner than that,” she explained.
I nodded, understanding the situation. “I’m sure my mom won’t have a problem with it,” I said, hoping that it would be okay. Phil had put Megan’s house back on the table, so it should work out.
She jumped up and down and hugged me before running for the bus. Now I just had to convince my mom to let me go to the party.
When my mom came home from work, I waited until she was in a good mood to ask for permission to go to Megan’s. Thankfully, she agreed. I sensed there was still residual tension between her and Phil, so I assumed it was the reason for her hasty decision to let me go home with Megan’s mom on Wednesday and pick me up after the party.
Later that night, I went into the woods while mom and Phil were having another round of fights. I found Zack sitting on my log.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. He appeared to be lost in thought.
“I was hoping that you would come out tonight,” he smiled as he stood up and hugged me with his right arm.
I pointed to his left arm. “Did that happen Saturday night?” I asked cautiously.
His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “How do you know about that?” he asked.
I shrugged and sat down on the log. “I was contemplating life when I heard glass breaking and your lights turned on. I wanted to check on you, but I didn’t want to make things worse,” I sighed.
He hung his head. “He thought my mom was pouring his liquor down the drain. Then he accused me of drinking his missing bottles. It turns out that he had forgotten how much he drank the night before when my mother showed him the empty containers in the recycling. He threw one of the bottles at me and it hit my forearm. It bruised pretty badly. I was surprised by how deep the bruise went. I’m just glad that it wasn’t my throwing arm,” he said, adjusting his coat sleeve.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding out my hand for him to take it.
He sat down next to me and held my hand. He rubbed it between his freezing hands to keep us both warm.
“You seemed off today. Did something happen to you?” he asked.
I avoided his question and asked one of my own. “You wanted to know my triggers, so that you could avoid them. I’ve made my list. Do you still want to hear them?” I asked hesitantly.
I heard the fabric of his coat move, so I took that for a yes since I couldn’t see his face in the darkness.
“I don’t like my hair being touched,” I whispered.
He squeezed my hand. “I don’t like being touched by people I don’t know or don’t like.”
“I tuck my hands inside my sleeves to avoid being touched,” I replied.
He sighed. “Is it okay if I ask your permission before touching you?” he asked with a hint of humor in his voice that confused me.
“Yes,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear nervously. I liked the idea of him touching me, but it still made me skittish.
He took my hand in his left hand and wrapped his right arm around my shoulders. “Is this okay?” he asked, his warm breath tickling my cheek.
I nodded and leaned into his side.
He took a deep breath. “I hate yelling of any kind. I freeze up. Even when coach goes off on a tirade about someone missing the ball or screwing up a play, it bothers me. I feel like I’m five years old and I accidentally dropped a glass on the floor,” he confessed quietly.
I rubbed the back of his hand with my thumb.
“I’m not a fan of long-winded lectures while trapped somewhere like the car, or my room, or anywhere without an escape route,” I whispered as I suppressed a shiver.
He leaned his head against my shoulder. “I know what that feels like. You want to shrink down into the floor and disappear,” he replied.
I nodded absently as I imagined making myself tiny and disappearing.
“Do me a favor,” I said. “Please don’t call me any pet names. I despise them.”
He lifted his head and looked at me, though I couldn’t see his eyes.
“I won’t call you any names, Alicia, I promise,” he said sincerely.
I carefully put my forehead against his, so that we wouldn’t crack skulls in the moonless night. “I’m seriously damaged, Zack. My biggest fear is that I will never be able to have any kind of normal relationship with someone. I freeze up too, but for different reasons. I don’t know if I can ever be intimate in any kind of way without freaking out,” I said vaguely, hoping that he would understand what I couldn’t say.
When he didn’t reply right away, I squinted, trying to see his face and figure out what he was thinking. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, hoping that I hadn’t said the wrong thing, but he spoke before I could.
“I would ne
ver pressure you to do something you weren’t ready for. I’m furious that you have to go through this, but I know why you put up with it. You feel like you have nowhere else to go,” he said as he put his hand against my jaw. “I never want to hurt you or rush you in any way. I’m happy holding hands with you and stealing the occasional kiss.”
My throat constricted and I had trouble speaking. “I’m really messed up,” I sniffled.
“So am I,” he whispered into my neck, giving me chills.
Sitting with him on our log, I felt safe. I wanted to stay with him forever, but I had to be realistic. I wanted to be normal for him, but I didn’t know how. I abruptly stood up and turned away from him.
“You asked if something happened to me. Well, something did happen and it made me realize that things need to change. I’m getting myself out of this situation; I’m done. I’m done waiting for someone to rescue me,” I said defiantly.
He stood up and grabbed my shoulders, turning me so that I could see his dark outline. “I don’t want you doing anything crazy. I don’t want you getting hurt,” he said, his voice raising an octave. He sounded afraid for me.
I reached out and found his face. Placing my hand against his cheek, I brushed my thumb against his warm skin. “I’ve already been hurt. It’s time for me to stand up for myself,” I stated.
He pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid. I need you,” he whispered in my ear.
I closed my eyes and clung to his shoulders for support. “I need you too. That’s why I can’t keep living like this. I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of sneaking out just to spend five minutes with you,” I said against his thick coat.
He leaned back and presumably looked into my eyes, though I couldn’t tell. “I get it, I do. I just want you to be safe,” he said as he pushed his cheek into my hand.
I shook my head until I realized that he couldn’t see me. “I will never be safe until I find a way out,” I said softly.
Megan’s party was more fun than I expected. Her mother was quirky and loved to tell jokes. It was easy being around her family. They all got along and enjoyed spending time together. Sometimes, I felt like I was an alien observing their strange behavior. Megan had an older brother and sister that she got along with really well. They liked to take her to the mall and get ice cream with her.
Her mother was making fun of Jena, Megan’s sister, who had dropped a bowl of chips on the floor. Everyone was laughing and making snide remarks about how heavy the bowl must have been. It was complete silliness, and I loved it.
“It’s time for the cake!” Mrs. Howard announced. “I spent all day baking it, so everyone needs to tell me how much they love it.”
Jena laughed. “Mom, it has the price sticker on it. If I enjoy the cake, I will tell the bakers at the grocery store how much I loved it,” she laughed.
Megan snorted and almost choked on a pretzel.
Her mother smacked Jena on the back of her head. “You try to bake a sheet cake and frost it and tell me how it turns out. We all remember Megan’s sixth birthday, don’t we?”
Andy, Megan’s brother, nearly spit out his soda. “The cake was supposed to be Mickey Mouse and instead it looked like a sad clown. Megan cried because Mickey looked like he was dying,” he laughed as he waved his hands to emphasize how upset Megan was.
Megan hid her face behind her hands. “It was horrible. I cried all day because I thought mom hurt Mickey,” she said, half-laughing half-moaning.
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” her mother snickered. She looked down at the cake in her hands. “At least they spelled your name right, unlike last year.”
I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my chair. I loved hanging out with them when they were celebrating an occasion.
“Get the lights,” Jena yelled to Andy as their mother put the cake down on the small yellow kitchen table. It was still inside the plastic dome from the store. The cake had pink flowers and white frosting. Her name was spelled out in green frosting below the words, “Happy Birthday”.
Megan clapped when she saw the cake.
“Oh mom, no one is ever going to watch this video. I swear, you would document us going to the bathroom for sentimental value. Put that thing away,” Andy groaned when Mrs. Howard ran back into the cramped kitchen with her video camera.
I suddenly ignored the party and fixated on the camera. “Is that a new video camera, Mrs. Howard?” I asked, taking an interest in it.
“Yes, it is, and I love it. It’s compact compared to the monster one that I had to balance on my shoulder,” she laughed as she recorded Jena putting the candles on the cake.
“Yeah, she almost dropped the giant one into the pond outside of a theme park. Dad had to save the beast before it hit the water,” Andy laughed.
“It used to eat tapes all the time. It was a disaster,” she sighed. “Okay, everyone sing on three.”
We all sang to Megan, but in the back of my mind, I focused on this new opportunity. My plan began to formulate quickly and by the time the party was over, I had it finalized.
Megan thanked me for the earrings I had gotten her, which matched the shirt her mother had bought her. She hugged me and thanked me for coming.
“I had fun,” I smiled.
“Me too,” she laughed. “Sorry my family is a little crazy.”
I shrugged. “Crazy is good,” I replied. She had never been invited to my house, so she had no idea what crazy really looked like.
When I finished packing up my things, I headed toward Megan’s mom. “Mrs. Howard, can I ask you a favor? I’m supposed to do this report, but I have no idea how I’m going to write it. Instead, I was thinking about making a video report. The teacher said that we are allowed to be creative with it. Would it be possible for me to borrow the camera, only for a week? I promise to be careful with it,” I said, practically pleading for her to say yes.
She looked over at the camera sitting on the table and shrugged. “I don’t see why not. As long as you’re careful with it, you can borrow it. There are extra tapes in the bag. I got them on sale. Just give the camera back to Megan at school, or bring it over next time you come for movie night. Megan is always telling me how responsible and smart you are. I know you’ll take good care of it,” she said, patting my arm.
I nearly cheered when she agreed, but managed to contain my excitement. “Thank you, Mrs. Howard, I really appreciate it,” I smiled.
She picked up the camera and placed it inside a black leather bag just large enough for it to fit snuggly inside. “Good luck with your project,” she said, handing me the bag.
“Thank you,” I replied as I looped it over my shoulder.
Able to fit the camera bag inside my nearly empty backpack, I snuck it into the house and hid it at the top of my closet. I had to keep Phil out of my room as much as possible since he liked to rifle through my belongings in search of proof that I was talking to a boy.
I feigned a stomachache the next morning and stayed home from school. I didn’t often stay home, so my mother didn’t give me a hard time. I spent the entire day reading the manual and memorizing the buttons. I had to be very careful for all this to work. What I was doing was dangerous, on multiple levels, and I wasn’t sure if the result would be enough to save Zack, or me, but I had to try something.
I debated if I should tell Zack exactly what I was doing, but decided against it. He would either worry or vehemently object. It was very possible that he would be furious with me, but I couldn’t stand by anymore.
At every opportunity, I sat in the woods and listened for any commotion happening at Zack’s house. Fortunately, and unfortunately, his father started yelling the second night of my watch. I raced through the woods and aimed the video camera toward the house. I had tested the range of the microphone and found that it could pick up a low noise from about twenty feet away. Standing on the back steps, I hoped the microphone was close enough to hear the fight.
I
held my breath when I heard the kitchen table hit the ground. His father was swearing and accusing his mother of overcooking dinner. He claimed that she burned it on purpose, even though dinner seemed to be long over. He called her stupid and smacked her until she started crying. He was mad that they had to go out and spend money at a restaurant.
When Zack came to his mother’s defense, the fight escalated. The worst part was hearing his mother yell at Zack to leave her alone and that she deserved the beating because she had ruined dinner.
My stomach churned when I heard how vehemently his mother defended his father’s horrible actions.
I wanted to run back home and forget this insane idea, until I heard Zack pleading for his father to stop hitting him. I refused to let this monster control their lives any more. Once the fight stopped, I paused the camera, snuck down the steps, and bolted for the forest. I turned the camera back on once I was in the clear.
“That was Mr. Anderson attacking his wife and son Zack because Mrs. Anderson accidently burned dinner. This isn’t the first time this has happened. A few weeks ago, he punched Zack in the face and hit him with a belt until he had welts on his back for no reason. A few nights ago, he threw a bottle at Zack, bruising his arm. His wife is too afraid to do anything, but this has to stop,” I stated to the camera, though it was too dark to capture my face. I stopped the recording and made sure the date stamp and time were imprinted on the recording.
Turning off the camera, I ran back to my house and managed to make it to my room without being discovered. Phil, blessedly, had been spending a lot of time in the garage because my mother was still mad at him.
Each night that week, I continued to record any fights at Zack’s house. There were two more incidents, but only one of them involved Zack.
I didn’t care if he never spoke to me again; I had to help him. I would miss him terribly if he broke up with me because I exposed his secret, but I had to do what was best for him. I was afraid that if Zack’s father continued doing this, he would really hurt one of them. His drinking was out of control and there could easily come a point where someone lost their temper, even if it was Zack.
We Were Ghosts--The Secret Life of a Survivor Page 14