Lacy

5 ~ church bells ring

LACY

The black dress I wear is loose and itchy. The girlish church shoes on my feet pinch my toes. I wouldn't expect anything more from donated clothes my social worker gave me. 

Heaviness weighs at my heart. While my relationship with Dad was nonexistent unless he was drunk and needed a rag doll to use, I did have connections with Mum, Jackson, and Stella. 

Mum avoided me often, unable to meet me in the eyes. Though, sometimes after a particularly bad beating, she would tend to my injuries in the bathroom. That was the closest we got. 

Jackson and Stella knew nothing about what happened with Dad, but I'm sure they suspected something. 

Me, flinching. Dad, drunk consistently and raging. Them, always being sent out of the home with me forced to stay behind. 

Jackson was a year older than me, only fifteen when he died. He was an introvert, mainly spending time in his room or out with friends. 

Stella was two years younger than me, only twelve. She was never mean to me, but we were strained apart. She was part of a small group of girls, I was friendly with the whole school. 

In my mind, being at school was a safe haven. I was free from the worries of my home life, so I opened up. I smiled and talked. I was so focused on being liked by others who didn't know me that I discarded my siblings. 

Sometimes, I wish I had been closer with Jackson and Stella. They were my siblings after all. Not full-blood, but maybe we were connected somehow. 

I know I am not the daughter of my father. I'm sure he knew that, too. I'm blonde and grey-eyed, whilst he was brown-eyed and brunet. Mum and I did share the same hair color, though she had brown eyes, too. 

Before turning four, I remember nothing of my past. I only remember snip its: me, standing in a pink room; a boy kneeling in front of me, smiling; being shoved into a dark, dirty truck. 

Then, nothing. 

Everything else has been replaced by Dad's drinking, Mum's numbness, and my siblings' ignorance to the life I led the moment the front door closed. 

Cecilia steps inside the bedroom. She smiles at me. "You look beautiful, Lacy. Now, are you ready to go to church?" Her tone is gentle and light. 

After a beat of silence, I nod. 

~~~

The church is minimally filled. While my family had been well-liked by our community, my parents kept to themselves often. They only went out to attend the Meetings. 

On Meeting Days, my siblings and I bolted all of the doors and windows in the house. We kept quiet in the basement until our parents returned home. 

I only went to a Meeting once, when I was eleven. Jackson and Stella never went to one. I had been dressed up and everyone there was also wearing fancy clothes. 

The people at the Meetings paid extra attention to me. I heard them call me all different names: 'that traitor one'; 'little bastard'; 'burden on my poor family'. 

I didn't know why I was so unliked, and I still don't know. I do know that Mum locked herself in the bathroom and cried when we returned home. Dad beat me bloody the next day. 

The pastor begins to speak in a solemn tone. Everyone bows their heads in prayer. I half-heartedly do the same, but I also keep my eyes open to my surroundings. 

A family portrait is displayed for all to see near the altar. It was professionally taken, around the time I was ten. We were all wearing shades of blue and smiling.