Even now, after being diagnosed for only a week, my muscles have spasmed painfully a couple of times. The first time I kept it from Lincoln because he wasn’t around, and I didn’t want to worry him if I didn’t have to. The second time was when I was getting out of the shower. The muscles in my legs tightened enough that I lost my balance and almost cracked my head against the porcelain tub. Thankfully, the shower curtain and rod held up long enough for me to fall on my free hand instead of my head. The look in Lincoln’s eyes when he exploded into the bathroom was agonizing to see.
I look back down at the journal in my lap. Yesterday was the first day I started reading them again. The one I’m currently reading belongs to a woman named Anna Dumont. Her earliest entry was dated in 1894. At first, the entries were few and far between, but the last year she’s been visiting her journal more. From what I can gather, this birthday will be her sixteenth, such a critical time in a girl’s life.
Anxious to see what happened at her party, I begin reading again. It’s dated several days after her party.
I’m scared to put this in my journal, because if my parents discover this, my father will go to jail, but I have to write this down. I’m still shaking from the experience. My ball was not what I hoped it would be. In fact, it was far from it. It started out great, especially when Arthur cornered me and said he had a birthday gift to give to me in private. My stomach was full of butterflies as I followed him outside. Everyone else was indoors, so we were left alone. Or I thought we were.
Nausea builds in my throat, and I have to swallow several times to keep the bile down. I don’t need to continue to read to know where this is going, but I do so anyway. I have to know.
I was so nervous as he led me away from the house, knowing he was going to kiss me like I wanted. The kiss was better than I expected. What I didn’t expect, nor wanted, were the second set of hands and the body that pressed against me from behind. I was scandalized, and I yanked away from Arthur, waiting for him to make the other person go away. When he didn’t, and I saw a nasty gleam in his eyes, I turned to face the other boy. There were three of them. They were from school, and I know them to be Arthur’s best friends: Justin, Albert, and Henry. They had the same look in their eyes that Arthur had.
Before I could scream, there was a hand over my mouth, and the three boys descended on me. I was so scared, even thinking about it right now sends fright through me. They threw me to the ground and said horrible things to me. Things they were going to do to me. Arthur boasted that I wanted it. That I was asking for it because I always had my eyes on him. I pleaded with them to stop, but they wouldn’t listen. Just as Justin yanked up my skirts while Arthur and Henry covered my mouth and held my arms, Justin was suddenly pulled away.
It was dark out, and tears were making my vision blurry, but I saw the silhouette of a man as he punched Justin twice before he fell to the ground and didn’t move again. Henry tried to run, but the man caught him before he could. A moment later, Henry was hunched over from a knee between his legs. Arthur still had a hold of my arms, but I was too captivated and shocked to scream or try to get away. It didn’t take much for the mysterious man to take care of Albert. Arthur let me go as soon as his friends were down on the ground, and then he rushed the man. He didn’t get very far before he was down on the ground too, holding a broken arm.
I never once took my eyes off the man, and I still couldn’t see his face properly. He stood over Arthur a moment later, his shoulders rising fast as he breathed harshly. My hands crunched against some leaves when I sat up. The man whirled around, and I whimpered when he stepped closer. I wasn’t sure if he was going to hurt me next. Or maybe do what Arthur and his friends didn’t get the chance to do. I was about to open my mouth to scream when he squatted down and spoke for the first time. He told me it was okay and that he wouldn’t hurt me. That he was only there to save me. As insane as it was, I believed him. The instant I heard his smooth voice, I felt safe.
He moved closer and a small patch of light filtering from the house illuminated his face. I instantly recognized him. He wasn’t a man. He was no older than I was, and he was the same boy I had seen several times in town. He always wore the same britches and shirt, and they never appeared clean. His face had smidgeons of dirt on it too. Even so, I was always fascinated by him. He was dirty and probably had no manners to speak of, but his looks intrigued me. Dark brown hair, light-gray eyes, a sharp chin, and prominent cheekbones. Although his clothes suggested he was homeless, his good genes said otherwise. I don’t know why, but when he offered his hand to help me up, I accepted it. The tingles started in my palm and worked their way up my arm. His name is Jack, and he is indeed my age. I knew this because we spent an hour outside talking.
I sigh, letting the breath I had been holding out slowly. Remembering my own experience years ago with Jensen and Mark has shivers racing down my spine. I was terrified, despite telling Lincoln I was okay, so I know how frightened Anna must have been. Thank goodness the boy, Jack, was there to save her and not do her even more harm.
After taking a sip of my luke-warm coffee, I decide to read one more entry before starting on lunch for the kids and Lincoln.
I saw Jack again today when my parents and I were in town shopping. He was sitting on the street corner with his hand buried in the scruff of the mangy looking dog lying beside him. He didn’t notice me at first, so as my parents were browsing a street vendor, I took a moment to look over him. His dark hair looked cleaner than I had ever seen it, but it still didn’t look brushed. And his clothes appeared to have been recently washed. His head was leaned back against the brick building, his eyes closed, and one of his legs was bent, his arm resting over his knee.
I was amazed at how muscular his arm appeared, given he was only sixteen, and wondered why. How hard was his life for his body to already be so strong and, where did he learn the skills he used the night he saved me? Was it because he needed them to protect himself on the streets? I blushed when I looked back at his eyes and saw him looking at me. He caught me staring, and I was mortified.
I wanted to go over and talk to him, but before I could, my father appeared beside me. After finding what I was looking at, my father asked if that was the boy who saved me. My mother found my ripped and soiled dressed I apparently hadn’t hidden well enough in my closet. When she saw the fading bruises on my arms from when Arthur held me down, she made me tell her what happened. It terrified me to tell her, but I knew I had no choice. Of course, she told my father, and he was livid. After I explained my rescue and the condition Jack left Arthur and his friends in, he calmed down enough for my mother and me to talk sense into him before he went and killed four boys.
I confirmed Jack was the one who saved me, and my father stalked over to him. His fists were clenched at his sides as he stared down at him. At first, I thought my father was going to hurt him, but then he thanked Jack. Both Jack’s and my eyes were wide when my father then offered him a job as a gardener at our home. I saw the prideful refusal in his eyes, and my heart sunk. I wanted Jack to work for my father because it meant I’d get to see him more. I don’t know why it was so important, but I knew it was. Jack’s eyes slid to me, moving all over my face, before he looked back at my father and said he’d take the job so long as his dog Bruiser could come. My father agreed.