Before I reached my destination, Cody grabbed my hair. Shivers overtook me, but he refused to let go. “I’m freezing. Let’s get in.”
My head snapped to the side exposing my neck. Not expecting the pain, I cried out when he bit me like a vampire.
“No woman of mine is going to be a hooker. A whore, that’s all you are.”
“Cody …”
He turned me around and slapped me across the face hard enough to knock me off balance. I screamed and tripped over the steps. My head hit the side of the hot tub and split open, blood seeped through my hair down my scalp.
Dizzy, I tried to stand. “Why are you mad at me? What did I do wrong? Tonight was so much fun.” I desperately wanted to please my one true love and thought by doing whatever he wanted, he would be kind and appreciative. I was wrong.
He removed my boots and threw them in the hot tub. I knew they would be ruined by the water, so I lunged to reach them before they sank. Cody grabbed me by the feet, I fell to the ground, and he dragged me across the concrete slab.
Scratches covered my chest and stomach and Iscreamed, “Ow, Cody. Stop. You’re hurting me. What are you doing?”
“You think that hurt?” Twisting my legs, he rolled me over. He had grown excited by inflicting pain and shoved himself inside me. “Maybe if I pleasure you enough, you’ll stop screwing other guys.”
I acted as if it felt good, at first, hoping he would just stop. It worked with the guys at the bar; made them finish quicker. Cody was different, though. He wasn’t turned on unless he hurt me. When he slapped me across my face, I shrieked, and blood trickled from my lip. That worked.
He finished fast and leaned over me, sweaty and panting. “I’m sorry, K.” Soft kisses covered my shoulder. “I just get so crazy when I think about other men touching you. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand by and accept that I’m not the only one you love. You’re going to quit your job.”
Tears mixed with dried blood on my cheek. I tried to rub it clean. “But my family needs the money. My brother and sisters …”
“Are not your responsibility.” He stood over me. “Your mom can support them. You’re going to quit tomorrow, or you’ll never see me again.”
Chapter 9
Jake, age fifteen—August 2000
THE TRACTORsputtered to a stop in the middle of the trail. Smoke rolled from the exhaust pipes as it stammered to life, then stalled again. “Shit. I must be out of gas.”At least once a week, I took soiled straw and wood chips from the stalls out to the far back of the property where I kept the compost pile. I made sure to steer clear of Dad’s grave so he couldn’t tell me all the things I had done wrong.
Remnants of his voice flittered in the air around my head. “What’s wrong with you, fat-ass? Just because you eat like a hog doesn’t mean you can feed the chickens that much scratch.”
Sometimes the nit-picking made me mad, other times I just rolled my eyes. “Are you stupid or something? Don’t you remember anything I taught you? You need to pull the eggs early in the morning instead of just before lunch.”
I talked out loud more often than not; no one else was around, might as well have conversations with myself. The only other voices I heard were from the news anchors on channel four.
Late at night, I would fall asleep to the eleven o’clock news while waiting for the weather report for the next day. It had been an easy summer; temperatures hovered between sixty and seventy during the day and dropped to forty at night. After a fully frozen winter, it had been nice to work outside without a parka.
Without my mom’s cooking expertise, I didn’t eat as much as I had in the past. My dad’s insults about how fat I was rang true in my head every time I looked in the mirror.
Working the farm alone allowed my muscles to expand and my excess fat to disappear. Before my mom died, I stood a respectable five foot eight. At the end of the summer, I had to duck to see the top of my head in the mirror on the bathroom vanity.
Every day after my chores were done, I visited Mom in the backyard. I brought her a glass of iced tea with a slice of lemon, just how she likes it—liked it. Until I ran out of lemons.
We talked about ways to keep weeds from popping up in the garden and how to get rid of the infestation of snails. If my tomatoes were going to produce as much as I needed for canning, they must stay healthy. Wediscussed the best number of chicks to allow to hatch versus how many chickens to freeze. Everything I tried to do on my own failed. Reluctant to keep with her old ways, eventually I gave in. Mom was always right.
Even though I never got any concrete answers, I still felt better after confiding in her. She had always been a good listener. “I'm not sure I'll ever be able to come to terms with what I've done. I can’t stop thinking about pulling the trigger. On the other hand, it was him or me. Wasn’t it? It had been self-defense.
“What happens when someone finds out, though? I can’t hide in plain sight forever. School starts soon and I’ll need to register. At some point, the bank is going to come, right? They’ll want to take the house. I don’t know how to pay any of the bills. Even though you used to talk about getting delinquency notices, I don’t know how to make a payment.”
I had overheard Mom and Dad fight about money; she never understood why he refused to pay the bills on time when he made more than most people in Alaska. They would fight about where his money went. She even accused him of having women on the side. After the first time she yelled at him, I heard a thud and their arguing stopped.
“I miss having someone my age to hang out with and wish I could invite Scott over. But I know I wouldn’t be able to keep my stupid mouth shut. I’d end upshowing him everything and risk the cops finding out.”
Every few days I would thumb through the photos in the album I saved. “I love this picture of us. Even if Dad did take it. Your hugs are the best—were.” I sighed. “I felt so safe when you put your arms around me and squeezed. I’m sorry I used to complain that it was too tight; I just didn’t want Dad to think I was soft.”
I flipped the page and smiled. My mom had been so pretty in her youth.
