My heart beats quickly as I slide into my seat. All around me, faces run together, just swirls of pale peach skin, powder blue hats and purple scarves. Their voices twirl and dance, entwining amongst each other like dancers on a ballroom floor. I clench my fingers into fists and brace myself against my desk.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I look up into the warm hazel eyes of my boyfriend, Adam, and my heartbeat begins to slow down. “Hi, Adam,” I say quietly, releasing the tension in my arms. “I’m fine.”
Adam slips over to stand beside me and takes my hand in his. “You seem a little detached today. Did you sleep all right last night?”
I reach up and run a hand through his curly brown hair, wanting to reassure myself that he was still there. “I slept fine, so stop worrying.” I shoot him a half-hearted smile, and he frowns in concern.
“Where’s Luke?” he asks seriously, glancing around the classroom.
I stand quickly and point to a tall, muscular boy laughing with a group of friends on the other side of the room. “There he is. Hey, Luke!” I call out, and he whips around to see who said his name. When he sees me, he says goodbye to his friends and hurries over.
“What’s up, Ally?” he asks, standing close beside me.
I look up at him, and he reads the silent plea in my eyes. He pulls me into a hug, and I bend into his warmth gratefully.
“Adam wanted you,” I say.
Luke raises an eyebrow and turns to face Adam, still holding me tightly. “You wanted me?” he asks.
“Yeah, I did. Um, I was wondering . . . Did Ally get enough sleep last night?”
“As far as I know. Why, do you need to know her bedtime, too?”
“No, thank you. As I said, I was just wondering.”
“You’d better be just wondering. Why do you worry about her so much anyway?”
“She’s my girlfriend, why wouldn’t I?”
Luke grimaces and lets go of me, shooting Adam a glare. “You just seem a little preoccupied most of the time, and I won’t have you breaking my sister’s heart,” he says icily, and strides away to his seat.
I glance at Adam, who just shakes his head in confusion and sits back down. “Your brother drives me insane,” he says.
I shrug and sit in my own seat, pull out a piece of notebook paper and a pencil, and begin to draw. “He confuses everyone,” I say with a quiet laugh.
Adam just sighs and leans back in his chair.
As soon as the bell rings, I launch my body from the seat and scoot out the door, propelling myself out of the school. Luke emerges from the double doors behind me and, after we socialize for as long as we dare, we turn and head down the street toward home. It’s a small, three-bedroom ranch, with modern appliances and spotless rooms. The yard is impeccable and the flowers in the garden by the mailbox are pretty and healthy. As we near the front door, a shadow moves across the window, and I flinch involuntarily.
Luke glances over at me, and I shift so that our arms brush every second step. Just as we reach the porch, the door swings open and my father storms out onto the stoop.
“Inside. Now,” he snarls, and I speed up to get into the house.
If you’ve never seen my father, the first time you get a good look at him you’ll probably either dig a hole or want to hide beneath a rock. He’s at least six foot seven, with a military haircut that left him nearly bald, wide shoulders, and a broad chest. His muscles bulge just beneath his skin, so large that they threaten to explode, and his eyes feel as though they’re boring right into your very soul.
I make it to the door of my bedroom before my father catches me. He seizes the collar of my jacket and jerks me back, hard. Before I can scream, he smashes his fist into my windpipe, knocking the breath out of me and sending my hopes crashing through the floor.
Luke stands awkwardly at the doorway to his room, his eyes moist with unshed tears, but he knows he cannot say or do anything in my defense; my father would kill him. So instead he just watches, and sometimes cries silently behind our father’s back.
I wriggle, trying to get free, but my dad grabs my arms and pins them to my sides. He twists one around behind my back, and I scream in pain.
“You’re late,” my dad hisses into my ear, flecks of spit clinging to his straggly mustache. “Why didn’t you come straight home?”
“I was talking to friends,” I pant, tugging my left arm free of his grip. “That’s not a crime, Dad.”
He makes a guttural animal noise and shoves me up against the wall. “I don’t care about your stupid little friends. You’re supposed to come right home every day, no matter what’s going on at school. You come home, you do your homework, you eat, you sleep. That’s the routine, that’s the deal. Otherwise, you know what happens.”
I work up enough courage to snap back, “Yeah, I know what happens. I get shipped off to a children’s home where no one will adopt a seventeen-year-old, and then you’ll just start abusing Luke, is that right? ‘Cause as long as I’m here, Luke isn’t hurt, is that right?”
My dad snatches my shoulder and throws me across the hall and into the opposite wall, where I crumple onto the floor. “Why, you insolent little brat,” he bellows, kicking me in the side. “Your mother and I give you everything your snotty little heart could desire, and you’re so ungrateful as to talk to me like that?!” He aims another kick at my head, and I howl in pain as a thousand stars erupt behind my eyes.
“Mark, stop it,” comes my mother’s voice from behind me. “She’s done for the night. Let’s go have dinner; I warmed up some leftover pasta from yesterday.”
My father glares down at me once, then turns on his heel and storms away into the kitchen.
I groan and roll to my knees, bending over on the carpeted floor. Luke dashes over to me with a cold water bottle and a washcloth. He pours some of the water onto the cloth and dabs at my wounds and bleeding nose.
“I hate him,” I whisper fiercely, shivers racking my limbs. “I hate him with all my heart. He’s evil, and so is Marissa. I wish they’d get killed or get in a car crash or something like that.”
Luke pulls me into another hug, and for a while we cry silently together. Then, Luke leans back so I can see his face.
“Let’s run away, somewhere they’ll never find us.”
“Luke, that’s crazy talk!”
“I’m serious. The longer we stay here, the worse he gets. You have all the scars to prove it. Tomorrow, we bring anything we want to take with us to school, and as soon as that last bell rings, we’re out of this crazy town.”
“He’ll never let us go; he’d die first. We know too much.”
“Exactly. We know everything. I’ve taken pictures, videos, even voice recordings of when he’s-”
“-beaten me? I wouldn’t put it past you.” I sigh and look away.
Luke scans my face closely. “I’m going, and whether you want to or not, you’re going, too.”
I glance up at him, and he holds my gaze. “Fine, tomorrow then.”
As I change out of my gym clothes, the tittering of the other girls begins to get to me. They all seem so wrapped up in their own lives; how could anyone possibly pay any attention to mine?
I reach down to tie my shoe, when suddenly one girl screeches, “Alicia! What’s wrong with your back? What happened?!”
My heart stops as I realize that my shirt has come untucked in the back, exposing ten years’ worth of scars and bruises. I jerk upright and tuck it back in, but not before everyone in the locker room is staring at me.
I follow the other girls out into the gym, and, as is expected, they immediately go to their boy friends and begin blabbing to them about my scars. Within moments, Adam is at my side. I see Luke approaching from the other end of the gym, fear in his eyes, but I know he will be too late.
“What are they talking about, Ally?” Adam asks quietly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Nothing, everything’s fine,” I say under my breath.
“What?”
“I said, everything’s fine!” I shout in his face, and he takes a step back in surprise.
“Really?” Adam moves back up next to me, so close that I can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. “Everything’s okay?” In one quick movement, so fast that I couldn’t have anticipated it, he spins me around and yanks up the back of my shirt.
Instinctively, I try to pull it back down, and he lets me. When I turn back around, his face is contorted with pain.
“Who did that to you?” Adam whispers, his arms trembling.
I open my mouth to speak, but in that instant Luke is at my side, holding me, keeping me standing here.
“Go away, Adam,” Luke says forcefully, pulling me back into his chest. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Adam moves forward, and Luke takes a step back. “Who did that to her?” he asks again, a chill taking control within his eyes.
I take a deep breath and, before Luke can stop me, reply, “My father.”
There is silence throughout the gym. Only Adam’s heavy breathing and Luke’s heartbeat sound now.
Suddenly, Adam turns on his heel, scoops up his jeans, and rifles through the pockets. He steps away with a black-bladed knife.
“Take this,” he says icily, handing Luke the switchblade and backing away. “Protect your sister, or I may be forced to.”
Luke’s hand wavers as he lowers the knife and puts it into his pocket, but I know that he will use it; he’s strong enough for that. Isn’t he?
Adam turns away, hesitates for a moment, then leaves the gym. Luke looks down at me, and I turn and bury my face into his chest.
My shoes go thump- thump on the pavement as I run toward my house. Luke yells something behind me, but I cannot hear what he is saying. My heart pounds, and I veer off onto the grass to avoid being hit by a passing car; there aren’t sidewalks in our town.
“Ally, stop! It’s a bad idea!” Luke yells, and this time I can hear him. Although it hurts me, I race on, the knife clenched tightly in my fist.
Reaching the front door of my house, I hesitate for a fraction of a second before going inside. Once within the house, the true impact of my decision hits me, and I almost collapse with the sorrow; I am too afraid to run away. Why can’t I stay here? So what if my father hits me?
“Ally, where are you?” Adam’s voice echoes in the gloom beyond the windows, and I flinch back against the wall, pressing myself almost flat to the plaster.
“Alicia, who is outside?” my father asks from behind me, and I whip around with a gasp; he is cradling in his arms a double-barreled shotgun.
“Luke and- Adam,” I whisper.
“Good girl.” My father lifts the gun and moves over to a window, opening it silently and poking the gun through a hole in the screen. He squints to try and pierce the darkness with his sharp eyes.
My blood freezes as Adam calls out again. “Ally, come on! Where are you?”
Luke yells something, but I can’t understand him.
Suddenly, my father aims the gun into the yard and fires. The shot cracks like my old beebe gun used to, but it makes a sickening thock as it embeds itself into someone’s flesh.
Adam screams, and my heart ceases to beat.
“Adam!” Luke yells, and he explodes into the house from behind us.
My father swivels around to face his son, holding the gun up to his shoulder, but Luke immediately turns and dashes out again. My dad gives chase, and I’m left alone in the house.
A flashing blue light catches my attention, and I step over to the coffee table. On it lays a pretty, navy blue cell phone. I reach down and pick it up, turning it over in my hands. Just as my father opens the front door, I have entered three numbers- 9.1.1. He makes a move to raise the gun. I press send, and the gunshot echoes through the phone lines, making its way to the receiver on the other end. . .
“The boy will live; the bullet only grazed his shin. The girl, though- what a pity. She’ll be sorely missed.”
“Look at her poor brother. He’ll remember this day for the rest of his life.”
“Yes. That boy, what was his name?”
“Her brother? Luke.”
“No, the other one. The one who got shot.”
“Oh, that one. His name is Adam; he’s been Alicia’s boyfriend since fifth grade.”
“So sad. Have you gotten a chance to examine the girl’s body yet? Have you seen all her scars? There must have been at least ten years’ worth, just on her back.”
“No, I haven’t. Wow, her father was some lunatic. You should’ve seen his file; he’s been arrested four times, for assault, breaking and entering, and child harassment. His daughter was lucky. She only got the minimum of what he can do.”
“It’s ironic, though.”
“What is?”
“He only hurt the girl. I wonder why. Luke -his son- wasn’t touched in the slightest.”
“Well, you see, the girl was the mother’s by some other man. Her husband found out when the girl was only six years old.”
“That would explain a lot.”
“Yep. And the boy, Luke- let’s just say that he was the son Mark always wanted. He’d rather die before he hurt that kid.”
“Hey, ladies, we’re on air in three minutes.”
“All right, thank you, Ernest. That’s my cue. Thank you for talking with me, Ma’am.”
“Anytime. I should go get my camera.”
“This case is just so sad. I can’t get over how quickly it happened.”
“I know. I heard an interesting theory from Luke just a few minutes ago.”
“What was it?”
“He says that he thought his sister was going to attack their father. Lord knows why.”
“Hah, so do we, come to think of it.”
“You know what else?”
“What?”
“He found a letter to the girl from their father. Said he loved her, always had. Too bad nobody believes it. What a shame.”
