Five
When my eyes flicker open, I’m convinced - for a minute or two, at least - that it was all just a bad dream.
That I’d imagined the fear, the pain. That I’m still curled up in my bed, not having the shit kicked out of me on the living room floor. Then, I make the mistake of moving and the jolt of agony that shoots through my side lets me know that it was real. Every second of it.
But, I am in a bed. Just not… my bed.
The sheets are soft and warm, though nothing like I’d ever choose for myself. Pale pink with a ditsy floral pattern. They’re more April’s speed than mine, but judging by the quality of them, they probably cost way more than we could ever afford. The bed itself is huge, a hell of a lot bigger than the twin one I sleep in every night. The room’s nice, too. Spacious, well-decorated. There’s not a single damp spot in sight and there’s no musty scent cloying my nostrils. It’s actually quite pleasant, like somebody burned a candle in here recently. Vanilla, maybe.
Where the hell am I?
A mix of panic and adrenaline surge through my veins, the combination giving me enough energy to attempt to sit up. I don’t know where I am, but more importantly, I don’t know where April is either. I have no clue what happened after I passed out. Did my uncle try to get to her? Is she okay? Did he… do something to her? My heart pounds out an unsteady rhythm at the thought, the burning need to find her now making me lightheaded. But, I don’t get very far. I manage to get my head, neck and shoulders off of the pillow, then collapse back down again with a pained groan.
I swallow, hesitating a beat before lifting the covers away from my body. Shit. My entire left side is covered in deep, purple bruises. Some of them are even darker, almost black. And right in the center, is the imprint of a shoe print. A boot, to be more exact. Jesus, he’s really messed me up this time. I can barely move, it hurts so fucking bad.
The door creaks open and I drop the covers, scrambling back up to the headboard, unable to stop the cry that leaves my lips from the movement.
“It’s okay, Oakley. You’re safe now,” Mrs Sanderson assures me, rushing to my side.
I take in her warm smile, the kindness in her eyes, and let out a sigh of relief. She’s right. If I’m in her house, then I’m safe. For the time being, at least.
“What— what happened?” I ask through panted breaths.
“April came to me. She said you wouldn’t wake up. Somehow, we managed to get you over here. You’ve been sleeping ever since.”
“Did my uncle— did he—?”
She grips my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “She waited until he left before coming out of her room. I heard him speeding down the street around three in the morning. She knocked on my door not long after that.”
Some of the tension in my shoulders eases at that. April’s a good kid and she’s always listened to me. I’m glad to hear that she kept her safety as her number one priority.
I lay my head back against the pillow, my face twisted into a grimace. “Where is she?”
“School. I had to practically drag her there. She didn’t want to leave you.”
Shit, school. It’s pretty obvious that I’m late, but a quick glance at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand tells me that I’m very late. I try to sit up again, but fail again. This time, it’s because Mrs Sanderson’s holding me down with a firm hand to my shoulder.
“I have to go.”
“Oakley…”
“I can’t miss it. I need to graduate.”
“And you will,” she promises, forcing me back down to the mattress. “But right now, you need to rest. I’ve already phoned in for you. And the diner, too. I told them you’ve got the stomach flu. You’ll need to take the rest of the week off, at least.”
The rest of the week? Sure, I’m a bit worse for wear right now, but I’m only a little banged up. I’ll be back on my feet tomorrow. I start shaking my head, ready to tell her that won’t be the case, but she beats me to the punch.
“Now, I’m no doctor,” she starts. “But, I suspect you’ve got two, maybe three, broken ribs. You won’t be going anywhere for a few days.” She steps out of the room, reappearing a few seconds later with a tray in her hands. There’s a glass of water, a plate of food and a brown paper bag sitting atop of it. “I guessed you wouldn’t be going to the hospital about your injuries.” She waits for me to confirm with a shake of my head. Going to the hospital means being asked a lot of questions, questions I can’t afford to answer. “So, I headed down to the pharmacy this morning and picked up the strongest pain pills they had. They’ll make you drowsy, but that’s good. Sleeping’s probably the best thing for you right now.”
She takes two pills out and hands them to me, along with the water. I swallow them, before gulping down the rest of the water too. I’m so thirsty, my throat feels like sandpaper. When was the last time I had something to drink?
Mrs Sanderson smiles, takes the empty glass from me and hands over the plate of food. “Eat.”
She watches on in silence while I do as she says, devouring every bite like a starved man. I don’t leave a single crumb on the plate. As soon as I’m finished, she loads everything back up on the tray and disappears from the room again.
By the time she returns a few minutes later, the pills have definitely kicked in. My eyelids are heavy, threatening to close, and my limbs feel like there are ten-ton weights strapped to them. “You weren’t kidding about these pills,” I mumble, a dopey smile on my face. And shit, am I slurring?
Mrs Sanderson chuckles, confirming my suspicions. She takes a seat on a wooden chair perched beside the bed, her expression growing suddenly somber.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I blurt, the meds loosening my tongue. She looks up, her eyes wide. I keep talking. “Don’t pity me. I’m okay. Yeah, this sucks but… things will get better.”
I don’t know where all of this confidence is coming from. Sure, I have a plan to get us out of here. But sometimes, I question whether or not we’ll actually make it there, whether I’ll be able to pull it off. There’s a hell of a lot of responsibility resting on me. April’s life, her future, rests in my hands. I can’t take that lightly. I won’t.
This is no life for an eight year old. For anyone, really. She shouldn’t have to wonder where her next meal is coming from or whether tonight will be the night her uncle will finally break down her bedroom door. She shouldn’t have to see her big brother beaten and broken on the floor. She should be thinking about what dress to wear to her school dance and if her homework’s done on time and if a boy in her class likes her or not.
When our parents died, before our uncle even got granted custody, and I had to break the news to April, I felt this overwhelming surge of emotion. An emotion stronger than the multitude of others I was already feeling. As I held her in my arms, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, I knew - just knew - that I would spend the rest of my life protecting her. Whatever trouble she ran into, whatever challenges faced her, I would be the one to help her overcome these things. I would stand in the way of anyone or anything that threatened to take away her happiness. I would keep her safe.
And I will, even if it kills me.
“I know they will,” she says. She blinks away the watery sheen in her eyes, dropping her gaze to her clasped hands. “I’m sorry, Oakley. I wish I could do more for you. Both of you. It’s just that… things have been hard since I lost Bill. I’m behind on mortgage repayments, I’ve got a list of overdue bills the length of my arm. And your uncle, he—” She sighs, shaking her head. “He holds a lot of power in this town. If he finds out that I’m helping you, then he could—”
“I know,” I cut in. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”
And I do. I know exactly what kind of asshole he is, the lengths he’ll go to to make trouble for me. Every job I’ve ever had in this town, he’s managed to find a way to make it disappear. No, they never outright tell me he’s the reason I’m being fired, but I know it’s him. He catches wind of where I’m working and within a day, I’ve lost the job. It’s not a coincidence.
I’m honestly surprised I’ve managed to last at the diner as long as I have.
All he cares about is getting his child support paychecks so he can fund his drinking habit and making me as miserable as humanly possible. That’s it.
He won’t let anyone or anything get in the way of achieving those goals. He’ll use any means necessary, including his badge, to keep me here, relying on him and living under his control. And hey, if he gets to knock me around a few nights a week, then I guess that’s just a bonus.
Mrs Sanderson pats my arm, sending me a warm smile. “Get some rest. I’ll come and check on you in a few hours.”
When she gets to the door, I mumble a quick, “Thank you,” before my eyes fall closed and sleep pulls me under.