Edge of Darkness Box Set

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “Hurry up, Queen Elsa, I’ve got somewhere I have to be. Let me get you back to your ice castle.”

  Laughing, I stand from where we’re sitting. I walk over to the car and lean down on the edge of the window. “It scares me how you know all about these female princesses considering you only have brothers. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were into Disney movies.”

  Miles winks at me, turns, and punches Reece in the arm. “Who says I’m not?”

  Laughing, I say goodnight to both before stepping back from the curb and heading inside. I go straight to my room, grab my pajamas and have a shower.

  Today’s been crazy. Sophie told me what happened to her. That heaviness she bared is now shared with me. It’s got to be hard on her, I at least have Sam, where she has no one. Washing myself, I keep thinking about Sophie’s situation and how she was ra . . . ra . . . assaulted. I still can’t say the word.

  It’s dirty.

  Not the word, the word holds its own stigma. The act, the thought and even the reputation given to a victim once it’s out in the open. I’ve heard what was said about others who were r . . . attacked.

  It’s disgusting and dirty.

  A tear runs down my cheek as I stand under the hot stream of the shower.

  I’m disgusting and dirty.

  I will forever carry this damage with me.

  Chapter 27

  When I walk into the kitchen, Sam and Sophie are already sitting at the dining table while Mom cooks up bacon and eggs for breakfast.

  “Good morning,” I say. Looking down the hallway I search for Dad. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Dad had to go to the store. He needs some new business shirts and ties for work, so he’s gone shopping.” Mom prods an egg and checks the bacon in the oven. “Maple bacon and eggs sunny side up,” she proudly announces.

  “Can I help, Mrs. B?”

  “You can get the orange juice from the fridge and get the glasses from that cupboard over there.” Mom nods her head to the side, pointing.

  Sophie grabs the glasses and juice. Sam gets some plates and cutlery.

  “I’ll make some toast,” I offer walking over to the toaster while grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter.

  Breakfast is ready quickly and Mom sets a plate for Dad and leaves it under the heating lamp for him. “Enjoy, girls.” We all dive in.

  “Guess what I heard last night?” Sam shoves a piece of buttered toast in her mouth. We all look and wait for her to tell us. “Taylor said he heard from one of his friends, that a girl in my year let a boy . . .” She looks at Mom warily. “You know?”

  “What? They had sex?” Mom asks in the most disgusted tone.

  “No!” Sam eagerly responds. “She let him put his hand down her pants.”

  “How old are they?”

  “My age.”

  I shake my head, stunned at what I’m hearing. Sophie gasps but keeps eating her breakfast in silence.

  “Hold up a second,” Mom says placing her cutlery down on the plate. “Are you telling me two fourteen year olds were messing around?” Sam nods her head. “Wow, what a girl,” Mom mumbles while arching her brows, clearly disgusted.

  I look at Mom, shocked at her reaction. “What do you mean?” I question.

  “What kind of girl would do that?” Mom asks.

  “Hang on, Mom.” I become defensive and irritated. “You’ve just heard two fourteen-year-olds are doing things to each other, and you automatically blame the girl, shaming her and not him?”

  Mom leans back in her chair, and tilts her head to the side considering what I’ve said. “Well, she’s not a very nice young lady if she lets the boys do things like that to her.”

  “Did you hear what you just said? In that one sentence you excuse him because he’s a ‘boy’ and blaming her because she’s a ‘young lady.’ She’s being shamed, but he’s not getting any of the blame or responsibility. That’s not right, Mom.”

  “It’s not like that,” Mom protests.

  “It is like that. Because you’ve got an image of her being easy and letting boys do this to her. But says who she is easy, and why hasn’t the boy been labelled? Who according to what Sam said, stuck his hand down her pants. Why is he allowed to do that, but only the girl is blamed for it?”

  Mom blinks a few times and nods. “You have a valid point. I suppose I didn’t think of it that way.”

  My heart’s beating wildly because this tells me all I need to know. I should’ve told my parents when it first happened, but if this is how my Mom—who’s normally really open-minded and easy to talk to—sees things, then I know I’d be blamed. There was never any chance for me.

  “It’s how we’ve been conditioned,” Sophie says. We all turn to look at her. “We have; from a young age, we’ve been taught to question women if they cry for help. Maybe because we’re supposed to be stronger, maybe because we’re not supposed to point fingers or speak up when something happens to us.” Sophie shivers. I feel like she’s indirectly telling us what happened to her, and as I look at Sam and Mom, I think they can see it too.

  “It’s not that,” Mom says.

  “Then what else can it be, Mrs. Bennett? Your automatic response was to judge the girl. To make it her responsibility to keep her legs closed and if anything happens to her, well then it’s her fault. But we don’t know the full story, what if he forced her? Or what if she forced him?”

  “Forced him?” Sam exhales a laugh. “Forced him, like really?”

  “You can’t trust anyone, Sam.” Sophie looks down to her plate. Her hair veils her face, and after a moment her shoulders shake telling us she’s trying to contain her tears.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Mom gets up and goes to her.

  She wraps her arms around Sophie and kisses her hair. “I’m sorry, there are so many bad people in our world and I hate to think of anyone hurting my girls, or even you.” Mom hugs her tighter and Sophie lets out a low, pain-filled breath.

  Sophie shifts in her seat, and Mom lets her go, moving back to her chair. She lifts her head and gives us a quick, weak smile. “It’s something I’m fairly passionate about. There are always two sides, and they both need to be heard. Somewhere in between is the truth.”

  “You’re completely right. I jumped in and judged, and I shouldn’t have. I would hate it if my girls were as judgmental as I showed myself to be a few minutes ago.”

  “It’s not judgment. It’s lack of awareness. We need to see the whole picture, not just the preconceived one put in our minds.” Sophie looks down at her plate. “Thank you for breakfast, it looks great.” Her tone says she no longer wants to talk about this. She’s friendly and sweet, but essentially she’s saying, without the words, ‘end of conversation.’

  Mom keeps her eyes on Sophie, understanding the subtleness of her words and nods slightly. “So, what are you girls doing today?” Mom salts her egg before beginning to eat it, letting go of the tension bouncing around the room.

  “Want to go to the mall?” I ask both Sam and Sophie.

  “I have to ask my Mom first,” Sophie says.

  “Yeah I want to go,” Sam excitedly squeals, jumping up and down on her chair. “I want a new skirt. Oh!” she cries, making me jump. “And a new pair of shoes.”

  Sophie looks at Sam as if she’s suddenly grown two heads and shakes her head. “She’s enthusiastic,” I say with a grin.

  “Dakota was the same when she was Sam’s age. She’d always be so excited to get out of the house and go to the mall with her friends. It was always Lindsey, Mariah, Jordan and Dakota. The four of them were virtually inseparable at that age. Now . . . nothing.” Mom shrugs her shoulders, clueless to what’s been happening. “Anyway, Sophie, if you want to call your Mom, go ahead. Let her know I can take you girls, and drop you off at home when you’re all ready to be picked up.”

  “I’ll be a minute, I’ll give Mom a call now.” Sophie stands and excuses herself.

  “Go in my room,” I yell to her as she g
oes down the hallway.

  Mom sits, quietly staring down at her food. “I hope I didn’t upset her. She’s a nice girl. I really don’t want her to think I was judging anyone.”

  “You were, Mom. But it’s okay. Once we pointed it out, you realized what you were doing and stopped. I suppose it’s got to be hard for old people,” Sam says.

  “Old eh?” Mom frowns at Sam for calling her ‘old’ but chuckles.

  “Yeah, heaps old.” Now Sam’s being sarcastic and trying to cause trouble in her usual friendly way.

  “Keep calling me old and see what type of skirt and shoes five dollars buys you.” Sam’s eyes widen as she tries to hold onto her smile. Her fork’s frozen in midair, while she blinks slowly. “Yeah. Now call me old,” Mom challenges her.

  “What I meant to say, but stupidly jumbled up the words, was my incredible hip, cool, youthful mother. Did I mention gorgeous? Like seriously beautiful?”

  “Now you’re sucking up.”

  “Has the five dollars increased?”

  “Only to ten.”

  “Then I better keep going because I need to give you at least sixty dollars’ worth of compliments.”

  “You’ll be here all day.”

  “Can I get an advance and continue with them when we get back?” She flutters her eyelids at Mom. “After I get my skirt and shoes?” Sam brings her hands together as if in to prayer.

  “We’ll see. But for now, you can pick up where you left off.”

  I finish my breakfast and take my plate to the sink. Laughing to myself, I leave the kitchen and head to my room. Sam is still throwing around sentences like ‘best Mom on the planet,’ and Mom is telling her to make them good because at this stage, she’s only secured the sole of one shoe.

  Sophie’s sitting on my bed and finishing the call to her Mom. She hangs up and looks at me, her eyes wide with worry. Immediately I rush to her. “Are you okay?”

  “My Dad’s found out where Mom works. He somehow had a bunch of flowers delivered to her and now Mom’s scared he’ll come after us when he gets released from prison.”

  “How did he find out?” I ask, sitting beside her on my bed. She shrugs her shoulders. “When’s he due to be released?”

  “Not for a few more years. But there was a note on the flowers.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It said he wants me to go and see him in prison, and if I do that, he’ll never bother us again.”

  “Are you going to go?”

  “Mom said no way, but I don’t know.” Her hands relax against her thighs while her shoulders drop. “I want to know why he treated us like he did, and this may be my only chance to get a real answer.”

  “He’s been in for three years?” I try and recall what she’s told me in the past.

  “Just over. Maybe he wants to seek redemption.” She lifts her shoulders.

  “Redemption,” I sigh. It would be nice to hold onto that dream. But there’s no happily ever after in real life. If there was, I wouldn’t have been r . . . r . . . assaulted.

  “Yeah, I doubt it too.”

  I huff and shake my head. “Isn’t it horrible how we’re only sixteen years old and we view the world as toxic already?”

  “We look at it realistically. I know if anyone found out about my Dad, they’d automatically assume I’m like him and my Mom’s a no-hope loser too. Mom works two cleaning jobs so I don’t go without. I mean we don’t have the best clothes or anything, but we get by. So, can you, you know, not tell anyone about my Dad?”

  I cross my heart. “I swear I’ll never say a thing to anyone. It’s not my story to tell. But what if Mom asks me? She was worried to think she may have made you upset at breakfast.”

  “You can tell your parents, but not Sam. It’s not like I don’t trust her, but it’s better if fewer people know. She may accidently tell Taylor, then if they break up he may tell someone, and so it starts.”

  “I promise you, I’ll only tell Mom if she asks. Your secret is safe with me.”

  She leans in and hugs me. “Thank you, Dakota. It’s nice to know I actually have someone I can talk with.”

  “Hey, what did your Mom say about coming to the mall?”

  “She said it was okay. She’s going to come over to drop off some money for me, but she only has thirty dollars spare this week. I know I can’t really do much with that, but at least I can come along.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool. I like hanging out with you.”

  “Hey, there’s something else.” She winces, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable about something.

  “What’s wrong?” Worried I watch her face contort with discomfort.

  “I don’t want your mom to see where I live. She may think badly about me. Is it okay if I tell your mom my mom will come and pick me up after we’re done at the mall?”

  My heart snaps with sadness. I lean in and hug her tightly. How horrible, to feel as if people will judge you based on where you live instead of the person you are. “My Mom won’t judge you.”

  “We live in an apartment over a store. It’s nothing as beautiful as this. The man who owns it gives us real cheap rent if Mom cleans the store below it. She has to mop and clean the toilets, and the windows three times a week. When she’s really busy, I help her. I told Mom I wanted to get a job through summer to help with everything, and she started crying saying there’s no way she wants me cleaning toilets like her. She told me I’m better than she ever was. She hates it when I help with the store downstairs, but sometimes, Mom gets home so exhausted she can barely keep her eyes open.”

  “Sophie, never be ashamed of where you live or where you’ve come from. Your mom sounds like an amazing, beautiful person, just like you.”

  Sophie smiles but the happiness doesn’t reach her stormy eyes. I hate to think what she’s seen, where she’s been and what she’s had to do in order to live. Both Sophie and her mom sound like people who are the backbone of this world. Getting through each day, and trying to make their world better.

  “Thanks.” She nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders. “But I still don’t want your Mom to see where I live.”

  A huge lump forms in my throat, and I want to shout at her how Mom won’t judge her, she’ll only have respect for her and her Mom for trying to better their lives. “Okay, but one day I’m hoping you’ll trust my Mom.”

  “One day. Anyway, we’d better get changed, and then go help clean up.”

  We stand and Sophie goes to her bag, grabbing her clothes before going to the bathroom to get changed.

  Chapter 28

  “Make sure you call me when you’re done,” Mom calls as we all get out of the car.

  “Bye, Mom,” both Sam and I say in chorus.

  “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Bennett. And thank you so much for driving us to the mall,” Sophie says to Mom.

  “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

  Mom pulls out of the parking lot and drives off down the street. The three of us head into the mall and Sam decides she wants to go to Forever 21 to try on a skirt she’s been eyeballing.

  Sam tries on the skirt she’s seen, and as it turns out, it looks horrible on her. “What do you think?” She comes out of the fitting room and twirls in front of Sophie and me.

  I look at Sophie sideways and catch the horrified look on her face. “Um,” Sophie stumbles, not really wanting to tell Sam what she honestly thinks. “Do you like it?”

  “It looks terrible,” I finally say. She’s my sister, so there’s no way in hell I’m going to let her leave the house with that skirt on. It’s too short, and the pattern on the material makes her look as if her hips are huge.

  “What?” Sam looks down at the skirt and runs her hand over the fabric, straightening it. “I think it looks nice.” She pouts.

  Shaking my head I crease my mouth into a thin line. “It’s not nice at all, Sam. It doesn’t sit on you well. It makes your hips look too big and beside that, I know you; you won’t wear it.”

 
“Hmmm.” Sam slumps her shoulders and looks down. “I guess you’re kind of right. I think it’s a bit too short. Okay, I won’t buy it.” Sam ducks back into the changing room and comes out a few minutes later.

  The three of us head out to American Eagle and Sam starts looking through the racks while Sophie and I hang back looking at some t-shirts. “What do you think?” I ask holding up a plain gray t-shirt. Sophie scrunches her nose. “So that’s a no.” I chuckle.

  We spend about twenty minutes in here, and Sam ends up purchasing a more modest skirt, something much more flattering to her long, slim body type.

  “I’m hungry. Can we go get something to eat?” Sam asks when she comes out of the store.

  “Where do you put it? You’re so thin and all I see you do is eat.” Sophie playfully pushes Sam.

  “I’m a growing child. I need my energy.” Sam raises her arms and flexes her muscles. Or I should say she flexes her non-existent muscles.

  “Here comes slut one and slut two.”

  I turn to look at Sophie and I see in the background, Lindsey, Mariah and Jordan all walking in our direction. “Great,” I mumble and roll my eyes. They’re walking in formation, like you see on those trashy movies where they portray high-school hierarchy. Lindsey’s front and center, with Jordan and Mariah flanking her. “Let’s go.” I keep going toward Starbucks where we’ve decided to have lunch.

  As we keep walking, Sophie goes tumbling forward and falls to her knees. “Hey,” I say as I turn to face Lindsey and her bitchy face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I stand up to her, and step right into her personal space. “You don’t put your hands on other people, Lindsey. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “She’s just trash.” She rolls her eyes and Jordan sniggers from behind her. Both of them put their hands on their hips trying to intimidate us. But I notice Mariah step back and hang her head in shame. “She opens her legs to anyone who wants her.” Lindsey arches an eyebrow and triumphantly smirks at her own hurtful words.

  “Wow, you just described yourself,” I say as I take another step closer to her. “Does Levi even feel the sides?” Mariah grins but keeps her head down and Lindsey shoots her an evil stare before turning back to me.