“Mama, be easy—” I started, but I was instantly cut off.
“Stay out of this, Emery. Lord knows you are probably the one who influenced your sister to act out this way.”
“Wait, what?”
“You think I didn’t find the pack of cigarettes under your mattress after you moved out to college? You’ve been a troublemaker from the beginning, and poor Sammie’s probably taken after some of your sinful ways.”
“This has nothing to do with Emery, Mama. Really,” Sammie said, defending me. She was wasting her breath, though. It was no secret that my parents saw me as the troubled child and Sammie as the saint. I’d come to terms with that many moons ago.
“It’s Devin’s?” Mama asked. Dad was standing behind her with his arms crossed and a look of coldness behind his eyes. Most people feared when their parents spoke, but it was quite the opposite for me with my father. His silence terrified me more than any words ever could. My father could make a person feel like nothing, simply with a blink of his eyes.
I’d been nothing to that man more often than not.
It was scary that those looks of coldness were now being directed toward Sammie—his pride and joy.
Sammie didn’t answer Mama’s question, but it was the only thing that made sense, for it to be Devin’s child.
Devin was the pastor’s son, the one who would someday take over the church down the line, and he and Sammie had been high school sweethearts. Out of everyone in the world, Devin was the only boy my parents approved of Sammie being with. I wasn’t allowed to date in high school, but Sammie could, because she found Devin. A boy of God.
If anyone would’ve been more upset about the pregnancy than our parents, it would’ve been Devin’s. They were the definition of strict. I would’ve been surprised if poor Devin even knew what sex was. My parents’ reaction was probably tame compared to his parents’.
“Do you know what that will do to that boy’s life? You’ll ruin his whole future,” Mama scolded, and in that moment I hated her a little. My parents were more loyal to the church than they were to their own children. “What will people think of us?”
“I-it’s not his,” Sammie said as her voice shook.
All of our eyes widened in shock. That was a surprise to me, to say the least.
Mama cocked an eyebrow. “Then who’s the father?”
Sammie lowered her head and didn’t speak.
That only made things worse.
Mama cringed from the silence. “You don’t know, do you? You went out running around town like a little hooker—”
“Mama!” I cried out, disgusted.
“Stay out of this, Emery. I don’t even know why you’re here. You’re not wanted during this conversation,” she said so coldly. “You haven’t been wanted for a very long time.”
A rush of air left my lungs. I felt that one. It felt as if Mama had slammed her fist straight into my chest.
Where Dad abused with his stares, Mama’s power was through her words. Mama spent her whole life working inside a library, and it was as if she’d learned how to use her words to hurt others. If only she’d learned a few words from her Bible, then maybe things would’ve been different.
Calling her daughter a little hooker? Telling her other child that she was unwanted?
Seemed a bit unholy to me, but who was I to say?
“Don’t talk to her like that,” I ordered.
“Watch your tone, Emery Rose,” Mama demanded right back.
“Watch your words,” I replied as my hand rested against Sammie’s shaky forearm. I wanted her to feel my closeness to her. I wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone.
Mama’s black-as-coal eyes locked with mine. I hated how much I looked like that woman. From our doe eyes to our full lips and kinky hair, we were identical. She aged slowly, too, and often looked as if she could’ve been an older sister to me. I hated that when I looked into mirrors, I saw my mother’s face. That face had disapproved of me and my sister for so long, to the point that the way she pouted triggered something tragic in my chest.
Mama narrowed her stare. “Don’t give me that slick college mouth, Emery. You may not live under my roof anymore, but you will not step foot into this house and act as if you are some independent woman who’s out there taking the world by storm. Don’t you forget who’s paying for that free life of yours in California.”
I went to argue with her, because unlike Sammie, I wasn’t afraid to speak up to my mother. Yet, before words could leave my mouth, my father held up a stern hand toward me, silencing me.
Within seconds, I was quiet. Even though Mama wasn’t scary, in my eyes, my father had a way of intimidating me with a simple wave of his hand. He hadn’t even needed to say anything to me. That simple hand raise to quiet a situation always sent chills down my spine in the most disturbing way.
My father never liked me. Sammie always disagreed whenever I’d say that, but that was simply her being nice. It was clear as day to me that my father didn’t have a drop of love for me, but he did love my sister.
While I looked like Mama, Sammie was Dad’s twin. They had the same nose, same ears, and same dimples. They were both tall and slim too. Their brown skin was shades lighter than mine and Mama’s. It wasn’t only physical features the two had in common; they also shared many hobbies together. They loved watching sports together. I was almost certain Sammie had joined the basketball team simply to appease our father.
One night, after a victorious game where she was the leading scorer, Sammie told me that she didn’t even love playing. When I told her she should quit, she laughed, saying Dad would never forgive her if she walked away from the court.
My sister was so obsessed with pleasing our parents that she never took a second to please herself.
Except for four months ago.
Except for when she’d finally put her hair down and allowed herself to be free.
And that was when everything took a turn for the worse.
“Explain yourself,” Dad commanded of Sammie.
Sammie’s gaze rose from the carpet she’d been staring at for the past ten minutes. Her lips parted to speak, and I hated how they were looking at her as if she was anything less than their daughter.
How were we both born from two people who were so cruel?
I stood close to Sammie and squeezed her hand, letting her know that still she wasn’t alone. “I’m here, Sammie,” I whispered. She lightly squeezed my hand back, and then she began speaking as we all listened closely.
“I went to a party with a few girls from the basketball team. I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but I wanted to be a normal kid for one night. So, I let loose. I . . . there—there was this guy . . . ,” she softly whispered, her voice trembling.
I stood up straighter and tilted my head. “What happened?”
“He asked me if I wanted to hook up. I said no to him. I know I was a little bit not myself, but I said no to him. Over and over again, I said no as he pinned me . . . as he undressed me . . . as he . . .”
Raped her . . . ?
No. Not Sammie. Not my baby sister.
“Do you know who it was, Sammie?” I asked as rage simmered beneath my skin.
“No . . . it was some college guy. That was how we got to talking. He was telling me how he was a big shot at his college, how he loved living away from home, and how I’d love it too. I-I never thought he’d—I thought . . .”