Chapter 3
SARAH
The street is still wet, shimmering with puddles of morning light, as Father Michael slowly pulls into our narrow driveway.
Nothing looks different from yesterday. My heart’s pounding so hard I think I might throw up.
The tremors in my hands have nothing to do with the mug of strong coffee I downed before Father Michael offered to take me home.
Maybe I can talk some sense into Ma before Dade does something irreversible, and we can stop this stupid cycle.
I step out into the chill with a quick goodbye to Father Michael. We agree to hold off on him meeting Ma and Dade until things simmer down from last night. He reluctantly waits for me to duck under the sagging porch awning to let myself in. The rumble of his car leaves me feeling so alone.
Dried blood smears the wall in a perfect arc just above the thermostat. It’s dark, almost brown now. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge, and I move toward it, soft on my feet.
Ma's sitting at the table in one of Dade’s old t-shirts. The raw exhaustion on her face makes her look a decade older, but she’s oddly peaceful, like she’s just returned from some spa rather than a domestic war zone.
“Hey, Ma,” I say. My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. “How’s Dade?”
She glances up, wary. “They gave him six stitches at County. He’ll be fine.”
There’s an undertone, a bristle I recognize from years of her trying to sound impartial about Dade. “You really whacked him, Sarah.”
My insides go hollow. “What was I supposed to do?”
She looks at me, and for a moment there’s a glimmer of gratitude in her eyes. But it flickers out almost immediately.
I can’t help myself.
The words spill out, “We had a plan, Ma. We talked about this for weeks. You said the chicken coupon was our code. If I brought it up, you’d be ready to get out. That was the whole point.”
She glances away, “Plans change, and you took so long, like forever answering my call that I thought you were backing out.”
For a second, I think about how I could have caught pneumonia out there, racing to safety just to make sure our plan worked.
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
She meets my eyes, her mouth set in a soft, pleading smile. “Just…let it go. It's for the best you didn't pick up. It gave me time to think. I know it's hard to believe him, but he's going to be better. He swears. I feel like last night changed things.”
I shake my head. “It’s not just about you, Ma. He’ll do it again. Maybe next time he’ll kill you.”
She sets her mug down so hard that it sloshes coffee onto the table. “You’re being cruel, Sarah. He’s not a monster.”
I can feel myself shutting down, sealing the hurt away behind a wall of numbness.
“Okay,” I say. “I won’t get involved again.”
I look at her, really look, and realize the plan was never real to her. It was always just a fantasy, a brief flicker of hope that she’d abandon as soon as Dade said sorry. I feel stupid for ever believing she’d leave.
After a few minutes, there's the unmistakable creak of Dade’s boots on the hallway floor. My breath catches. I try to make myself small, invisible, but it doesn’t work. Dade has a built-in radar for things that piss him off, and I’m number one.
He emerges shirtless, belly straining over the waistband of his sweatpants, his head swaddled in gauze.
A crimson bloom stains the bandage just above his left eyebrow, and the edges of the tape are already peeling.
His eyes are alert, hard green, and they find me instantly, locking on like crosshairs.
“You shouldn’t be up yet, Dade,” she reaches for his arm. The softness of her tone is so foreign to the ire she held for him last night. She steers him toward the table, and I catch the way her fingers flutter over his bandage.
Dade grunts, shrugs her off, and drops into the chair opposite mine with a heavy, theatrical sigh. He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“So the little bitch is back,” he says, voice low and full of venom.
Ma hovers behind him, one palm resting on his meaty shoulder.
“Don’t start,” she pleads, glancing nervously between us. “Let’s just talk like adults.”
He laughs, cold and sharp. “Adults? You hear that, Sarah? Gonna use your college smarts on me now?”
“Don’t,” I say. “Just…don’t.”
He leans back, stretching his arms wide, showing off the network of tattoos along his forearms.
“You know,” he says, picking at the edge of his bandage, “I could have you arrested. You busted my skull open. That’s aggravated assault.”
“You had me pinned to the wall,” I shoot back.
Dade snorts. “I figured you liked it rough just like she does.”
He winks at Ma, who flushes and looks down.
I can’t believe this is happening. “You’re disgusting.”
He shrugs. “Better than being a liar. Tell me, how did you cook this little escape plan up?”
I turn away from him. “I just want Ma safe.”
Ma steps in, her voice tight.
“Sarah, stop. This isn’t helping.” She squeezes Dade’s shoulder. “She doesn’t mean it, baby. She just gets scared.”
His lip curls. “Yeah, well, maybe she should be scared.”
“I’m only here for my things,” I say, barely managing to keep my voice steady. “Then I’m gone.”
Dade drums his fingers on the table, the rhythm slow and deliberate. “Ten minutes. That’s how long you got. After that, I call the sheriff and tell him you assaulted me while I was sleeping.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
He shrugs again. “World’s full of batshit crazy bullshit. That’s what makes it spin, sweetheart.”
Ma turns to me, her eyes wide and shiny. “Please, Sarah, just do what he says. It’ll be easier for everyone.”
As I leave the kitchen, Dade says, “Don’t forget your birth control. I’m not raising any bastard grandkids under my roof.”
Ma’s voice trails after me. “She’s not seeing anybody, Dade. You know that.”
His reply is a grunted, “She’s always been a little slut. Got it from you.”
I grab the few belongings I think I need. No time to cherish my childhood possessions. Glance around at some of my keepsakes, but just want to purge the memories like ripping off a plaster. Right now are just surplus to my grown-up world. I rush for the door.
The last thing I hear before my bedroom door closes behind me is Ma’s soft voice, pleading, “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s still my daughter.”
The door is barely thick enough to muffle their conversation, let alone keep out the cold. I don't hesitate to throw a bag of my own together and push on through the front door, letting it slam with a high-pitched thwack behind me, and dash away from the house.
Thankfully, Father Michael didn't keep up his end of the agreement and is at the end of the driveway, walking toward the house.
I stop him before he gets too close with a palm to his chest, "Dade's in a mood. He just kicked me out, and Ma's on his side, of course. They both insist on using me as a pawn for some twisted game of control. I don't have anywhere to go."
"You're always welcome at Our Lady of Grace, Sarah. You're always welcome." His words are reassuring and comforting as we head toward his car.
But I hear it now. Even with the door closed, I hear Ma’s pleading from the kitchen, “Dade, please. Just let her go.”
"Who the hell does she think she is, walking out of this house like she owns shit?" He snarls. "I wasn't done giving her a piece of my mind."
Ma’s voice again, quiet and even, “We’ll give her the time. She’ll come back. She always does.”
I scoff with a shake of my head. She doesn't even hear herself. He's the one who told me to leave, and now, because I left without a fight, he wants me to come back to ensure I'm broken before I step into the world without a home to come back to.
Father Michael ushers me into his car. We drive the short distance until the church reappears through the drizzle.
The stained-glass windows are beautiful in the early morning sun, twinkling colored halos as I peer at them from the misty parking lot.
I sit in the car looking through the rain-spotted window, an odd feeling settling over me.
Just me, alone, free to be me without thoughts of Ma and Dade and my childhood.
This is a door opening, I guess, and I am stepping through it.
I am, for the first time in forever, almost unafraid. A tear bubbles from my eye, then another, and they slide silently down my cheeks.