He went through the motions of homework at the library, setting up an email account and sending off a quick message to Doctor Summers from one of the public computers there, but by the time Jacob was trudging down the campus path to the dorms, he was feeling more than a little discouraged about his future.
He tried to focus his attention on the positive things, like his first meeting with Doctor Summers and the nice classmates he had already met, but the image of the cantankerous Officer Millburn persisted in his mind. The officer’s surly attitude was contagious, and upon returning to his dorm room, Jacob found himself collapsing into bed with a gruff sigh.
Officially wallowing in his own self-pity now, he opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out his sister’s diary. The cover was worn and the binding was falling apart from extensive use. He had read the whole thing, cover to cover, countless times over, and every time he finished, he would flip back to the beginning and start over again, keeping a scrap of paper as a makeshift bookmark.
He was just nearing the point in Maggie’s story in which things began to get dark. For most of their lives together after their mother died, Jacob thought that he was handling things with their father. He thought he had it under control, that if he took the brunt of the beatings, maybe his sister could have a halfway normal life. She buried her emotions and put on a plastic smile, not unlike the redheaded receptionist he had met earlier that day, and he believed it all too easily. It wasn’t until after she was killed, when he read her journal for the first time, that he realized just how fake that smile really was, how often she dreamed of running away and how much it broke her spirit to see her brother bloodied and beaten.
March 9th 2004
It makes me sick to see him like this. I don’t understand why he thinks he’s protecting me. As if having to watch my brother spit blood into the sink or try to cover up the bruises on his arms with a sweater in 80 degree summer is some kind of gift to me.
I know he’s doing the best he can, so I let him think it’s working. I let him believe that I’m happy here, that my stomach doesn’t lurch every time I look at his face and see a fat lip or a black eye. I know he’s doing it all for me, and that makes me feel so damn guilty I want to scream.
Something has to change. Soon.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I don’t know what other options I have, but I have to find one before it’s too late for him. But I guess for now, I’ll just smile, tell him how much I love him, and keep pretending.
By the time Jacob stuffed the old book back in his drawer and completed his bedtime routine, the mind-numbing effect of his nighttime medication was a welcome gift. He lay back on his bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling, grateful for the first time that night when the pills began to take effect, pulling him under into a dull, dreamless sleep.
HE STILL REMEMBERED THE last conversation he ever had with her.
It was a typical Wednesday night. Maggie waited her usual thirty minutes before tip-toeing down from the top bunk and snuggling in beside him on the tiny bottom mattress. It was a habit she had picked up on those long nights of listening to their parents fight through the thin walls between the two bedrooms, and despite the years that had passed since their mother’s death, the ritual remained a semi-regular practice. Jacob always pretended to be asleep, allowing her the privacy of the vulnerable moment.
On this particular night, Maggie snuggled in beside him, trying to squeeze her way onto the small space available without waking him. He took in a deep breath and pretended to rouse in his sleep, effectively scooting over to make more room for her.
They lay still for a long while, long enough for Jacob’s consciousness to fade in and out as he listened to the rush of traffic outside their window and the football game blaring loudly from the television speakers in the living room where their father had passed out on the couch. The steady, even rhythm of her breath on his cheek lulled him, drowning out the other sounds.
“Hey, Jake?” Maggie whispered, pulling him from the edge of slumber.
“Hmm?” he muttered back, unmoving.
“Do you think…,” she paused. “Do you think you’d ever leave this place? Like… go to college or start a new life, or something?”
Jacob took in a deep breath, willing himself the energy to open his eyes and look at his sister. “Mags, we’ve talked about this. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured her with firm resolve.
She searched his expression with worry in her eyes. She sighed. “But what if, like... I wasn’t here, or you were an only child? Would you go then?” she asked, awaiting his answer with a level of intensity he didn’t think was warranted for such a silly, hypothetical question.
He opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he thought honestly about his answer. He knew as well as she did that if it were only him he had to worry about, he would have been out the door the night his mother was gone. Maybe even sooner, if he could have convinced her to leave with him.
“That doesn’t matter,” he responded instead, “because you are here. And I’m not gonna leave you.”
It wasn’t the first time they had discussed this, and he knew what she would say next. She would suggest that they run away together, and he would tell her that he doesn’t have the means to take care of her on his own. He would tell her that she has a life here, friends she would miss and a promising future if she finished high school strong. They had this argument countless times, but he always stood firm in his decision. He knew how to handle their father, how to deflect his anger onto himself and keep Maggie out of the line of fire. There was no need to uproot her life just a few years before she would graduate and go off to college. He could make it a few more years, if it meant giving his sister a chance at the normal life she deserved.
But this time, to Jacob’s surprise, she didn’t retort with her usual counter-offer. Instead, she simply let out a breath. Her expression faded from worry, to acceptance, and finally settled on resolve. She turned onto her back and stared at the bottom of the mattress above them. She nodded to herself. “Okay, Jake,” she said.
He stared at her for a minute, assessing her unrecognizably severe gaze. She was awake, alert, like his words had convinced her. She was done arguing; she accepted his decision, and that seemed to light a fire in her that left her cold, calculating. And it left him with a sinking feeling of dreadful anticipation in his gut that he wouldn’t recognize as such until days later. Maggie was never one to back down from a fight, scrappy as she was, and her uncharacteristically peaceful resignation was unnerving.
“Jake, you know I love you, right?” she asked suddenly, still staring ahead, her face smooth and emotionless.
Unnerving.
“Of course, Mags,” he answered.
She nodded. “No matter what.” She looked back at him, studying his face as tears welled in her eyes. Meeting his gaze, she gave him a brief smile. “Goodnight,” she kissed the confused crease on his forehead, making him feel like a child as she slid off of his bed and climbed up the ladder to her own.
Her bed was empty the following morning, and there was a note left on his dresser.
Felt like walking to school today, so I left early. See you there.