~ongoing~ ~unedited~
After eleven year old Parker is faced with her stepfather's death, she has to move in with her five older brothers. Her newly discovered family has secrets they are hiding from Parker, but Parker is keeping secrets of her own...
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Looking out the window of Math class, I zoned out the nonsense our teacher is explaining and thought of how things used to be. I remember living a happy life. A happy life with my mother and stepfather. Although I was an only child, my mother was my best friend. After all, we did everything together. She was the essence of beauty, and sometimes I wonder of how my stepfather, James managed to pull her.
We lived an uneventful life. Both mom and James worked nine to fives and we would spend our weekends together doing something fun. I miss how times were before mom died. She died in a car accident, James told me it was a hit and run. Who would be so heartless as to leave my mother bleeding out? I think of how scared she must of been. Did she think of me in her last moments?
After mom died, James changed and not for the better. Instead of calling me cute little nicknames he started to degrade me. I guess James needed a place to vent his anger. Boy, was I right. The name calling turned to the occasion shove, and the occasion shove turned into punches. Now, over a year after mom's passing, he is a shell of what he used to be.
I suppose I am a shell of what I used to be too.
"Parker would you like to answer question 5?" Mrs. Anderson asks pulling me out of my thoughts.
In response I shake my head and begin playing with my fingers, avoiding eye-contact.
If I can, I opt to remain silent. It is easier to hide in the shadows, no one pays attention to you that way. If there is one thing I hate, it's being the center of attention.
It didn't always used to be this way. I guess my new home life, without mom and with the new James, has reflected in my personality as well.
Mrs. Anderson just sighs and continues teaching.
Retreating back into my mind, I zone out the rest of class.
---
The loud ringing of the bell fills my ears, signaling the end of the school day.
I quickly pack my belongs and start my journey home.
Anxiety is something I always feel as I walk home. Not because I am scared of getting kidnapped - though that would suck - it is because I never know the mood James will be in when he arrives home.
It is rare that he is in a good mood, however sometimes he is so tired I don't have to worry about his pent up anger.
Hoping that is the case tonight, I enter our compact house and begin making dinner.
I decide to make Spaghetti tonight. Italian dishes were always my favorite as they were my mother's speciality. It's a shame James never lets me eat with him. I only get his leftovers - if there even are any.
I may be eleven years old, but due to the malnutrition as a result of James, I probably look at most eight years old.
As I finish James dinner, I hear a car door slam telling me he's home. The sound of glass bottles clinking together also tells me he brought alcohol, great.
"Parker!" James yells as he enters the house.
uh oh, he is not in a good mood.
"y-yes?" I meekly respond.
"I am going out tonight, and I expect this house spotless when I return." He demands.
"of of-course.... any-anything else?" I say.
Instead of an immediate response, James advances towards me quickly. He grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me off my feet to meet his face. I feel my heart pound against my chest.
"You being ungrateful again?" He spits.
I frantically shake my head.
"Because I can give you something to be grateful for..." James whispers in my ear.
I smell the alcohol on his awful breath.
"p-please no, I-I'll be good. P-promise." I manage to stamper out.
James just shakes his head, throwing me to the floor. I hold in my tears as my body collides with the floor.
"You never learn do you?" He roars.
I remain silent as I watch him open and chug a beer.
"Hmm? I asked you a question." James says after throwing his empty bottle to the ground.
I watch it smash into jagged pieces before looking back to James who is now towering over my huddled frame.
I never know what to do in these situations. Does he want me to respond or to remain silent? Is this a trick question? Hint, it usually is.
Growing impatient, James sends a kick to my ribs. I let out a yelp of pain.
"Answer me!" He yells crouching down to my level.
Tears well in my eyes as I continue to remain silent. I receive a few more kicks, effectively adding to my collection of bruises.
James stomps on my ankle and I cry out in pain. That's definitely more than just a bruise.
With one more kick to the ribs, I watch with teary eyes as he walks out of the house.
"Maybe you do learn." I hear him mutter.
I stay on the ground until I hear the familiar sound of his car engine driving away. Once I am sure James is gone do I try to get up.
Using the wall as support, I pull myself up making sure to not put pressure on my bad ankle.
Now standing, I feel gravity hit me full force. Blinking rapidly, I try and clear the spots that are clouding my vision.
I take a small step using my bad ankle to try and feel the extent of this injury. A sharp pain shoots up my leg as a result. I bite my lip hard, drawing blood.
It's probably just a sprain. Nothing I can't handle. Wishful thinking, I know .
I begin cleaning the house being careful of my fresh bruises. I limp and favor my right leg in the hopes of alleviating some of the pain. My only motivation to finish cleaning is I can finally sleep.
