“They do. And eventually, I think they’ll move back to be with their grandbabies when they come, but they love us.”
“I don’t think my parents loved me. Or Tracey. I think they wanted us because it was what you were supposed to do. Either that or my mom wanted to keep my dad with her. That’s why I think she had Tracey. And I think I was an accident and am why they got together in the first place.” I let out a breath. “It doesn’t matter. But I had Tracey. She used to sing. She had such a beautiful voice, like a little angel’s. When Mom and Dad started fighting and would slap at each other and hit and scream, she would come into my room, and we’d hide under my covers. When we moved to the trailer and we had to share a room, she slept in my bed, and we held each other close. Even as we got older, we always had each other because we knew we weren’t going to have them.”
I let out a breath, the memories coming back so quickly I could taste them—the stench of whiskey on their breath, the feel of hands on skin when they pounded into flesh. I could still hear the air conditioner running on its last leg, the trailer shaking when the wind got to be too much.
“My parents started hitting me long before I can even remember. A swat on the butt here or there. And then when I got old enough to try and duck away, Dad hit harder. And Mom would help. He would hit and slap and use his belt. If dinner wasn’t served on time, or if we didn’t do what we were supposed to do, even if they hadn’t told us what they wanted. Then, sometimes, they got drunk and started having sex right there in the living room after fighting. And if one of us made a noise from our bedroom, crying or trying to do our homework, they would stop whatever they were doing, get dressed, and come and hit us because we interrupted what they were doing. When Mom stole Dad’s drugs once, he blamed it on me, and hit me so hard I broke my cheekbone. Child services came, but they lied and said that I had fallen off my bike.”
My hands were shaking, and when Prior reached out to hold them, I didn’t back away.
“I didn’t have a bike, Prior. I never did. We didn’t have that kind of money. And even if we did, it would have gone for drugs anyway.”
Prior didn’t say anything, he simply held my hands, rubbing his thumbs over my skin as I kept going.
“My parents always kept jobs, that was the one thing they were good at. It was only for drugs. And booze. Or whatever else they could get their hands on. They would have orgies in our trailer and bring over whoever they wanted to fuck and do whatever they wanted. They wanted to live a life that meant having fun, gluttony and everything they could possibly have. Somehow, they had kids in the middle of it. And when Dad got too angry, he would hit me, over and over again. And then Mom would join in. Sometimes, Mom would hold me down while he hit me harder and harder.”
“Baby.”
“I know. I’m fine. They only broke a couple of bones. They got good at that. They didn’t want child services to come. They didn’t want to go to jail.” I took another breath before continuing.
“Then they went after Tracey.”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“Pretty much. When Tracey got old enough, Daddy started hitting her, too. And when I tried to protect her, he hit me harder. And then Mom would hold me back, so he could keep going at Tracey.” I shook my head at Prior’s questioning look. “They never touched us like that. Ever. That wasn’t something on their radar. Although a couple of the guests of my parents’ orgies gave us weird looks, Mom protected us from that.” I let out a rough chuckle. “At least, she tried. Then she distracted them and pretty much had whoever she wanted on the couch and in her bed. One night, though, it was my birthday, and I came home from school with a present. It was a little candy bracelet, something that a friend gave me. It was so cheap that the candy probably would have made me sick if I’d had a chance to eat it.”
After a minute, I didn’t say anything, and Prior leaned forward and brushed my hair from my face. I leaned into his touch, inhaling his scent, and just…breathing.
I wasn’t back in that trailer. I could do this.
“Dad called me a whore, snapped the candy right off my wrist, and then hit me with it. And then he choked me before he kept hitting and hitting and hitting.”
Tracey was there, and she was so sad because it was my birthday, and they usually never hit me on my birthday. It was a weird thing, but it was like a present not to be hurt. I almost forgot about that, but they never did that.” I shook my head when he opened his mouth to speak. There wasn’t anything to say. “Daddy looked up, so furious that Tracey would say anything, and he backhanded her so hard she cracked her head on the cheap Formica counter and fell to the ground. There was blood everywhere, all over the floor, all over the wall, all over me. She wasn’t dead, not yet. She was still moaning, and Mom was screaming, thrashing Tracey’s shoulders down to the ground, screaming that she wanted her to wake up. It was only making it worse. And then Daddy hit me again, so hard that I didn’t wake up for a minute or two, and then I came to and heard crying, and I thought it was Tracey, her little voice. But it was only in my dreams. They were holding her body, blood covering them both, and she was dead.”
Tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I hadn’t even realized it. Prior picked me up, the strength in his arms surprising me, and then I was on his lap, and he was holding me, sliding his hands down my back and through my hair, just holding me.
When was the last time I had been held like this when thinking those thoughts? My friends had done it, but a man had never held me like this.
And I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Apparently, we had made enough noise that the neighbors in the trailer next door called the cops. They gave Dad manslaughter, Mom a lesser charge. They leveled them both with a bunch of other charges that I don’t even want to get into, but it was enough that they were in jail for a long time. Somehow, though, enough time has passed. They both got out. So, when you and I were at that Greek Mediterranean place? That was the call from the detective, saying that Dad had gotten out.”
“He’s out right now?” The anger in Prior’s voice calmed me somehow.
“Yes, Mom’s been out for a couple of years now. They’re not here. The detective said that they’re keeping an eye on everything and will let me know if anything changes. I’m still afraid he’s going to show up one day, though, you know? Or Mom will. But mostly Dad because he’s the one who hit me the most. Mom just let it happen.”
“And you think the attack...” he asked, not even finishing his sentence.
I shrugged. “I told the local police about it. And they got in contact with the old detective on the case. We don’t know. There’s no evidence, even though I fought back. So, they’re still trying to figure out who it could have been. Because both of my parents, if I even want to use that term, have alibis.”
“I don’t know what to say. Other than, I’m sorry. And I want to hurt them for daring to touch you, and for taking such a light from this world. I also don’t want to get too violent and scary.”
“I want to murder them. Slowly. I want to hear their screams. I want them to pay for an eternity for what they’ve done. So, you getting violent with them? That’s not going to trigger me. It might trigger other people, but for me? I just get angry. So, we can both dream of different ways to end my parents for what they did to Tracey. There’s nothing else I can do right now.”