The One You Feed

by Renee Miller

  Ronny followed her retreating figure, unable to believe a court on this planet would see his parents as suitable guardians.

  Warren set the empty bottle on the counter and followed his wife to the door. “Maybe once you’ve had the night to think this through, you’ll see we’re doing what’s best for everyone involved.”

  Ronny remained silent. They wouldn’t give Amy to them, they couldn’t. He thought of the whip biting her tender flesh, her cries as his mother laid verbal abuse on her. She would feel useless, afraid, just as Ronny had. They couldn’t let them have her.

  The door closed.

  He snapped back to the present. Looking at the mess—the rotting food and stained clothing strewn on the floor—Ronny realized he’d never be in control as long as he allowed people to walk all over him.

  He picked through the mess, piling laundry on one side and garbage on the other. In the morning, he’d try to smooth things over with Martin—if he was going to have Amy it wouldn’t be at his parents’ house. Then he’d go see this Connie at Social Services. Maybe there was a way around the mess; a way to avoid his parents near his daughter.

  CHAPTER 16

  December 1978

  From his bed, Devon listened to the sounds coming from the living room. When his mom took him to the mall last week to see Santa, Devon had asked him for a new Daddy. Santa looked at him weird, like he had two heads or something. Devon asked for a fire truck too, so Santa didn’t think he was bad.

  His mom’s cries as she begged Daddy to stop hurting her made his belly feel hot and sick. Daddy wasn’t listening. He slipped further under his blankets.

  Sometimes he wanted to yell at his dad, to punch him like he punched Mommy. He wanted to protect her, to save her, but he was afraid. His dad was big. Sometimes he was like an animal starving for something to eat.

  Hayley moved in her crib. Devon sat up. His sister didn’t understand what was going on. She was just a baby, not even two years old yet. Devon was a big boy. He always took care of Hayley when Mommy couldn’t.

  He had promised Mommy he would be quiet so Daddy didn’t come in. The last time he did that, he pushed Devon really hard and then hit him with his belt. He couldn’t sit down for a long time because his bum hurt so much. Worse than that, Mommy cried so hard. She kept saying sorry like it was her fault, but it wasn’t. He shouldn’t have fed the crayons to Grandma’s dog, but it was funny. The dog puked a rainbow.

  Hayley lifted a chubby leg over the railing

  Devon shot out of bed. “No Hay, go back to sleep.”

  She paused. He thought she might actually listen to him, but then she continued to climb out. She was too heavy for him to put back in, and he knew she’d cry if he tried. He helped her out and tiptoed to their door.

  “Okay,” he whispered, “I’m going to see if Daddy is in bed. If he is, we can see Mommy.”

  Hayley smiled. “Cookie?”

  “No cookies.”

  He opened the door a crack, to peer into the living room just beyond their door. There wasn’t any noise, not enough to hear through the door, but Daddy wasn’t in bed. He was pulling Mommy’s hair and pushing her face into the carpet. Devon smelled the strange odor that always seemed to be there when Daddy hit Mommy. It was sweet, yet not very nice. He didn’t like it.

  His mom struggled to be free. “Garrett, I’m sorry.”

  Hearing her say that made Devon mad. She didn’t do anything naughty. The darn stove didn’t work right; it always smoked and burned stuff. Mommy told him we needed a new stove, but when Daddy went out with his friends, he came back angry because she didn’t make the supper he wanted. Mommy always got in trouble for something.

  “I’m finished with you.” Daddy kicked her.

  Devon flinched. Mommy didn’t even cry. She was so brave. He would have screamed and ran if Daddy kicked him.

  “You’re not fit to live.” Daddy spat on the floor next to Mommy and then turned, walking toward Devon.

  He hurried back inside his room and closed the door.

  Hayley pulled his pajama shirt. He turned.

  “Cookie?”

  “No Hay, go to bed.” He heard his dad’s footsteps heading back to the living room.

  Devon opened the door again. Daddy had his gun, the one he liked to clean and sometimes point at Mommy to scare her. But this time was different. Daddy held up a bullet. Devon thought they were neat, so small and shiny, but when Mommy caught him looking at them, she got really mad.

  “Garrett this is stupid,” Mommy said. Her voice sounded high. “You can’t do this, the kids—”

  “Don’t worry about your little bastards.”

  He always called them that, especially Devon. Daddy liked Hayley better. Devon knew it was true. Mommy said it was just that Hayley was little and couldn’t get into trouble yet. She was wrong. Daddy never liked him, because Devon was born bad.

  “The boy can go with you. He’s a useless piece of shit.”

  Mommy gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

  Daddy put the bullet into the gun, then moved the round thing and closed it. Devon thought it was cool when they did that on TV, but tonight it didn’t seem so cool.

  “Hay, you stay here,” he whispered, pushing his sister to his bed.

  “No. Cookie.”

  “Okay, if you stay, I’ll get you a cookie. Don’t come out until I come back.”

  “Kay,” Hayley climbed on his bed

  If Daddy got too mad, she might need to hide. Hayley didn’t know when she should hide. She hadn’t learned yet.

  “We’re gonna play hide and seek.” He pulled her off the bed, smiling when she clapped her hands. “Now you hide under the bed and I’ll try to find you.”

  She went willingly, giggling as he pushed her under and went back to the door.

  Daddy pulled Mommy to her knees and pointed the gun at her head. She was crying really hard, but didn’t say anything. She just stared at the floor.

  “Let’s see what God thinks,” Daddy said to her. “I’ll pull the trigger, and if you’re not fit to breathe, a bullet goes in your brain. Quick and painless.”

  Mommy shook her head. “Don’t do this.”

  “If God thinks you’re worth keeping around, I’ll get an empty chamber and you’ll live.”

  Daddy put the gun to Mommy’s head. Devon held his breath. Daddy started counting, and he knew he had to do something. Anyone who knew anything knew that a bullet in your head would kill you. He didn’t want Mommy to die, even if God thought she should.

  Devon ran into the hall. He didn’t stop until he reached his mom. He held onto her legs tightly, but she tried to push him away.

  “Two of you in one go,” Daddy said.

  Mommy cried harder. “Go back to bed, sweetie,” she said. “It’ll be okay.”

  Daddy laughed again. “Let’s ask God again.” He clicked the gun in his hand.

  “No, Garrett,” Mommy cried. “Let me put him to bed.”

  He had to do something. Holding his mom’s legs wasn’t protecting her. Daddy waved the gun in the air. Devon no longer heard his words. Just saw the gun and felt Mommy’s hands pushing at him.

  He had to make Daddy stop.

  “I hate you!” he screamed, running at Daddy. “I wish you were dead.”

  He punched and kicked, but his dad was bigger and stronger. In seconds he felt fingers scraping his head, his hair pulling, and pain so hot, he thought his head might explode.

  Then he was flying. Something hit him hard before the noise around him disappeared.

  —

  Dana watched in horror as Devon’s tiny body hit the wall, a sickening thud accompanying it. This was not happening. Garrett was no longer sane, his tenuous hold over his anger had snapped and now they would all die.

  She still felt the cold steel of the gun against her head, although it was no longer there. He’d done this before, but the gun was never loaded. Tonight, he’d pulled the trigger knowing a bullet had been in there, and for
ced her to see the reality. He hated her.

  At Hayley’s cry, Dana turned away from Devon. The toddler stared wide-eyed at her father. Garrett had never hit Hayley before. He favored the little girl over her brother, but tonight Dana couldn’t be sure what he’d do.

  She stood. Garrett stumbled toward Hayley, gun still in his hand.

  Dana ran at him, but Garrett spun around before she could land a punch, twisting her arm painfully behind her. At least his attention turned from Hayley, who scurried back to her room.

  “You want to fight?” he said against her ear. “Fine, I’ll give you a fight.”

  Garrett yanked her arm higher and, after a sickening pop, he shoved her to the floor. Dana’s arm hung limp at her side. Just above the elbow, it bent at an awkward angle. She couldn’t move her fingers. The pain was so intense she thought she might throw up.

  Garrett advanced and picked her up once more by her injured arm. He shoved her again into the wall.

  Devon murmured as he sat up, blood trickling from his nose.

  She felt the gun against her forehead again. While she feared for her children’s lives, the idea of herself dying didn’t seem so bad anymore. It’d be over. The kids would go to Opal and at least she wouldn’t have to worry about Garrett hurting them. Opal wouldn’t allow it.

  “Do it,” she whispered.

  Garrett chuckled. She heard a click, and then another. “Looks like God wants you to live.”

  She released the breath she held.

  “Both of you are pathetic,” Garrett kicked her again forcing her back to the floor. “Get out of my fucking house. I don’t want to see either of you again.”

  She lay still, hoping that if she could avoid provoking him anymore, he’d just walk away.

  “Do you hear me? Get the fuck out!”

  “I’m sorry.” The words were out before she could stop them. He didn’t care, but she’d said it so often, it was instinct now.

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it anymore.” He knelt beside her.

  She stared at his boots, the steel toes showing through the worn tips.

  “I want you gone when I get back or I’m loading enough bullets in this gun for both of you.”

  “Yes.” Hope sprang in Dana’s chest. He never told her to leave before. Most times, he warned her that leaving would see her dead. Now, for the first time, if she stayed, he would kill her.

  “Leave Hayley with my mom.”

  “What?”

  His hand ripped across her cheek.

  Lights danced before her eyes. Dana gasped, and tasted the acrid flavor of blood in her mouth.

  “You heard me.”

  She laid there, her heart pounding, his words echoing in her head. He could do what he pleased to her, but she wouldn’t leave her daughter with him. She’d already subjected her children to too much. She didn’t know if the damage could be undone, but she wouldn’t allow him to scar them further. They wouldn’t be like her or their father.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow night. You better not be here.”

  The door slammed, rattling the walls. She eased herself up, her upper arm throbbing, but numb below her elbow. Devon crawled toward her, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. He climbed into her lap to press his face into her chest. Dana stroked his hair, whispering apologies.

  “Mama?” Hayley cried from the bedroom.

  “Hey buddy. Are you hurt?” She gently pushed Devon off her.

  “My head,” he whispered.

  She searched for bumps, finding just one, small and close to his ear. She checked his face, his teeth were intact, his nose had stopped bleeding, and just a small bruise showed under his eye. Her chest ached at the sight of the battered boy who had tried to be brave for her. She’d let things go too long, hoping Garrett would wake up one day and realize what he was doing, but he didn’t and he never would.

  Now and then, she thought of ways she could be free of the misery, of Garrett, but the only way she imagined it might work is if Garrett were dead. He had problems, sure, but he wasn’t a monster like Marcus had been. He didn’t deserve to die.

  Her kids didn’t deserve to be hurt like this either…

  Dana stood, taking Devon by the hand and limping toward the kids’ room. She switched on the light after opening the door. Hayley sat in front of her crib; Devon’s tattered teddy bear clutched in her chubby little fist.

  “Mama,” Hayley lunged at her, throwing her little body against Dana’s leg. Dana knelt and scooped her up in her good arm, wincing at the stabbing pain in her side. “It’s okay pumpkin, you’re safe.”

  At a clatter behind them she spun, her heart pounding. Devon packed toys in his tiny backpack. She smiled when he picked a few of Hayley’s things too. He always thought of his sister.

  “I told her to stay under the bed, but she never listens.”

  “It’s okay. You were a big boy, and I’m proud, but never, ever, do that again. Mommy can take care of herself.”

  “But he was going to put a bullet in your head. That gets people dead, you know.”

  She shooed him out of the room and changed the subject. “Let’s call Auntie Cat,” she said with a pathetic attempt at cheeriness. “We’ll have a sleepover with her and Uncle Roger.”

  “I don’t like Roger. He smells like Daddy.”

  “Yes, but he’s nice to us.” After setting Hayley down and peeling the crying girl’s hands off her neck, she picked up the phone and dialed Catherine’s number.

  It rang several times before her sister answered; her voice hoarse with sleep.

  “Hey, Catherine,” Dana said, her voice cracking. “Um, can I ask for a huge favor?”

  “Shit, what time is it?”

  “It’s late. I’m sorry.”

  “What did he do?” Catherine’s voice sounded cold, steely.

  “He—he wants me to leave.”

  “What?”

  Suddenly she couldn’t stop the tears; she hiccupped as the sobs ripped from her throat. “He’s going to kill us, me and Devon, if we’re here when he comes home. I have nowhere to go. He had a gun and he—”

  Catherine sighed. “You need to calm down. He is not going to kill you. You’re overreacting.”

  “N—no, I’m not. He put a gun to my head. Pulled the trigger. And he threw Devon against the wall so hard he’s bleeding,”

  “Who’s bleeding?”

  “Devon.”

  “Fuck.”

  Roger’s muffled voice sounded in the background. Silently praying for their help, she waited as Devon tried to comfort his sister. He handed her his bear and made silly faces. Hayley touched the dried blood on his chin and grimaced.

  “Okay. Roger’s on his way.” Catherine said, resignation in her voice.

  “Thank you so much. Tell Roger I’m so sorry. I really appreciate this.”

  “Just make sure this is it. We won’t help you again if you go back.”

  The line went dead. She sat for a long time, just listening to the dial tone.

  When she recovered, Dana rushed to bundle the kids in their snowsuits. Devon helped her dress Hayley. Leaving everything behind—not taking so much as a picture—she nudged the children out the door and waited for Roger to take them away.

  PART THREE

  But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, causes her to become an adulteress, and anyone who marries the divorced woman commits adultery.

  Matthew 5:32

  CHAPTER 17

  April, 1979

  Ronny waited for the man behind the desk to say something. For two long weeks, he’d hoped for this call-back, all the other jobs having fizzled down to nothing. Double B Construction was a small company and didn’t offer a lot of money, but anything that would let him work closer to home would do.

  He shifted in his chair and stared at his mud-caked boots. The rain had stopped and the sun peeked through the clouds at intervals.

  Brad Baker, one of the three brothers that owned t
he company had called him twice before this meeting: first for the initial interview and then to complete a competency test. Ronny was sure they’d never call him after leaving the papers unfinished, but here he was, standing in front of Brad, holding his breath while the guy read something on his desk.

  “Well, I’m puzzled.” Brad finally said.

  “About?”

  He tossed a stack of papers toward Ronny. “This test—it doesn’t add up.”

  Ronny stared at his hands.

  “Read the first question for me,” Brad said.

  Pain lanced the back of Ronny’s head soon followed by a sickly sensation as he picked up the paper and pretended to read it. He shrugged. “I didn’t answer it, so it doesn’t really matter.”

  “But it does.” Brad leaned back in his chair and cradled both hands behind his head.

  Ronny was sick of being laughed at.

  “I want to know why you didn’t answer it. You didn’t answer most of them, yet in your interview, you knew all this stuff.”

  “I don’t know. Sorry to waste your time.”

  “Hey, I didn’t ask you to go.”

  Ronny didn’t want to explain. This guy wouldn’t understand. He had money, likely always had it, and probably more than a ninth-grade education.

  “I just want to know why you didn’t finish the test.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not true.” Brad leaned forward and picked up the papers. “You answered a few, and correctly. These were much harder than the ones you didn’t answer.”

  “Either you want to hire me or you don’t.”

  Brad folded his hands on the desk. “I do want to hire you, but I need my people to be honest with me. I don’t judge. Everyone has their own story, reasons for who they are, but if one of my guys has…limitations, I need to know so I can work around them.”