He leaves me there, slamming the door. His being on the other side helps to allow me to relax just a little. Leaning over the sink, I drop my hands and let my nose bleed for a few moments as I turn on the water and wash my hands so I can pinch the bridge of my nose to try to stop the bleeding. It takes about five minutes to finally stop, and luckily after studying myself in the mirror I realize that it’s not broken. Though there are going to be some major bruises, maybe even black eyes. I guess I’ll have to figure out how to explain that away in the morning.
When I can’t drag my feet any longer, I step out of the bathroom to find my stepfather coming out of his room freshly showered. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, I wait for his next move. Stephens comes up to me and grips my chin, tilting my face from side to side. I do not fight his hold or even take a full breath because, though the bloody nose was an accident, I’ll now have a bruise anyway, so why not add to them?
“That’s going to be a nasty bruise,” he murmurs, leaning in way too close for comfort. “Make sure there aren’t too many questions. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur softly.
“Oh, how I love to hear you say that to me,” he whispers, pressing me back against the door frame, sliding his free hand over my hip.
My stomach turns with the innuendo in his voice and the feeling of his hand on my body. Fisting my hands at my sides, I fight the urge to push this man off me, knowing that in the end it wouldn’tdo me any good. The sound of his phone ringing causes him to jump away from me, glaring as if I had done something wrong.
He pulls the phone out of his pocket, narrowing his eyes before snarling into it, “I’m not talking to you anymore about this. I’ve told you what I wanted, and nothing will change my mind on it,” he turns, making his way to the office. “There is nothing you can do, you fucking piece of shit. If something happens to me, everyone will know everything I’ve covered up for all of you ungrateful assholes.”
I turn, making my way down the hallway, through the living room and into the kitchen on the hunt for something to make for dinner tonight. The sound of something breaking in the office causes me to jump. Stephen comes storming down the hallway toward the front door.
“Don’t fucking wait up for me,” he tosses out as he slams through the front door.
Too stunned to speak or move, I just stand stock still in the kitchen looking at the front door processing through what just happened. It takes about three minutes for my body to finally break out of the fear and relax at being the only person in the home. Meaning it’s going to be cereal and Tylenol for dinner, then going right to bed so I’m out of dodge for when Hurricane Stephen comes home drunk and who knows what else. I go to my room and change into my PJs after closing and locking the door. Before my head hits the pillow, I am fast asleep.
I wake with a start, sitting up in bed looking around for whatever it was that woke me up. When I don’t immediately see or hear anything, I start to lay back down then the slightest movement of a shadow catches my attention. The shadow seems to be alive, creeping closer with every blink, causing terror to wrap around my chest like a vise, stealing my breath. The shadow finally stepsinto the small sliver of light cast by the moon, lighting up only one side of his face.
The terror seems to leave me in a rush, and anger swells like a rabid beast tired of being shoved down. I sit straight up in my bed, leveling the coldest glare I can manage on the Shadow Man in my room. He stops moving, studying me as if I intrigue him.
“If you're here to do what I believe you are, you’re in the wrong room.” I shrug as I twist to lie back down. “It’s out the door and to your left at the end of the hall.”
“Parietal, why do you think I would be here for your loving stepdaddy?” Shadow Man rumbles low and gravelly.
I don’t even bother to roll over and look at the Shadow as a sarcastic laugh leaves me. “If what he offers is love, then you are doing me a favor here. So carry on, I need my beauty sleep.”
He doesn’t say anything else to me. It wasn’t until the next day at school that I realized that conversation wasn’t a dream and would be the beginning of the end for any plans I had for my life.
One
Loretta
Five Years later
I watch as the glider launches off the side of the mountain, flying free with the wind. I dream of the day I will be free to just fly away. I lose track of how long I sit just watching them. Eventually, the sun starts to set on the tiny town that still holds me prisoner. The same tiny town that has taken everything from me. The wind kicks up with the incoming rain, causing me to shiver. I pull my legs up, wrapping my arms around them and laying my chin on my knees. I fight the growing anger and sadness at the shittiness that is my life.
It’s been exactly five years to the day since I signed my life away. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself for the memory of that day as this is the only time I allow it to be upfront and alive.
“Loretta, this is the best option that you’re going to get,” my lawyer states in what could be boredom as he slides the paperwork across the table to me.
“What do you mean by the best option?” My voice is so high pitched that I don’t even recognize it.
“What else do you need me to say? They’re offering to have you serve time only until your eighteenth birthday. You will then be on parole for the next ten years.” My lawyer leans forward,placing his arms on the table and laying his hands flat. “You take this deal, and we do not go to trial.”
“You said if we went to trial with everything I’ve told you and the pictures of my bruises that we would win. That it’s what was best for us because you never fucking lose.” By the time I’m done, I’m screaming like a crazy person.
“And that’s exactlywhat will fucking happen if you go to court. We will fucking lose. So, save us both the time, effort, and loss. Take the goddamn deal.” He leans in so that we’re nose to nose. “Do not be a stupid little girl. Be smart; sign this deal and do the exceedingly small amount of time in prison. You will be out just after you turn eighteen and off parole before you turn thirty. You will still have plenty of time to live your life.”
I slam back into my chair, glaring at the man. “It sounds like I don’t have a choice here. I take the deal and flush everything down the damn toilet, and the person who actually killed that slimy fucker gets to walk around free and clear?”
“Look at it however you choose, little girl. What I’m telling you is that if you go to court, you will go to prison for a substantially long time,” he says, pushing the paperwork closer to me, never once looking anything but bored. “Sign the deal.”
I take the pen and sign my name on the line as tears course down my face as I watch all my dreams and future slip away with every stroke of the pen. I slide the paperwork back to my lawyer as I allow the last of my tears to roll down my face, not bothering to wipe them away. My lawyer, like the cold hard man that he is, doesn’t even seem to be fazed by the tears or the fact he is gutting me. He picks the paperwork up, looking over it and making sure that everything is completed and signed correctly before standing. Straightening his too-nice suit jacket for a dingy juvie interview room.
Before I can stop the next set of words, they just tumble from my lips. “I’ve wondered how, as a public offender, you seem to be dressed as if you're headed to an awards show.”
