6. Liz
CHAPTER SIX
liz
Sixteen years earlier.
The girl can't stop her tears this time, no matter how hard she tries.
She can't stop the whimpers from breaking free, can't stop her heart from slamming into her ribs. Can’t stop tremoring from her ears to her toes. Not now. Not until her new brother stops screaming and thudding in the boot.
All she can do is feel it all, knowing it’s wrong without knowing why, and wait for her daddy to stop talking to the man outside the car. She hopes her tears dissolve before her daddy climbs in beside her.
He has warned her about tears.
She hiccups a sob as her daddy drops down into the driver's seat and starts the car, frowning at the road as he drives back the way they came.
She sits in fear, staring ahead. Silent. Flinching before anything has even happened.
The car rolls slowly through The District, the lamplight thinning as they reach the outskirts of town. Tyres grind on the unsealed front driveway and come to a sudden stop, the sound resonating through the old estate.
She runs inside the house.
He does not follow; he needs to get her new brother out first. The girl rushes into the kitchen and with shaking hands tries to pour her dad a drink.
Ice. Brown drink next. Bit of water. She repeats this over and over, knowing she always forgets something.
Ice. Brown drink next. Bit of water. Her hands keep shaking, the ice clinking against the glass. Her breath comes out hard and fast.
Ice.
Brown drink next.
Bit of water.
When the flywire slams and his steps rap through the timeworn farmhouse, she backs away from the entrance.
He bellows her name.
Her tears fall heavily.
He’ll see. He’ll see them, and so it’s already too late because he is walking towards her and the kitchen bench is behind her.
Sometimes, he forgets he was mad.
Sometimes, she hides until he does.
This time, she made him a drink.
His knuckles connect with her cheek, sending a surge of heat to the back of her eye. Her little body hits the floor with a soft thud. She shrinks into his shadow, a black shape swallowing her huddled frame.
She scoots backwards until the bench hits her spine. His eyes are slits. Hers are wide. She knew this would happen. She knew as soon as the first defiant tear slipped out.
He leans down and fists her hair. She screeches as he drags her through the house. Her heels kick the carpet. Sounds she can't name roll up her throat. Her body writhes. Her back slides. Her tears stream.
The floorboards creak below her daddy's feet as he drags her down the corridor. She keeps sliding. Past the crack in the hallway wall she has stared at a hundred times. Past her school bag slumped by the bathroom. Past the cupboard.
"Daddy"—her voice shakes violently—"please."
She presses both hands to her head, holding her hair to her fragile scalp, trying to soothe the burn on her skin.
Please, Daddy, stop.
Her heels throb as she keeps slamming them against the floorboards, desperately fighting for freedom. Her scalp stings. She knows crying is pointless. She knows pleading is pointless. She knows nothing can stop him.
She cried; she is crying, and so he will punish her.
"Lizzy, goddamn it, I've warned you not to cry!” he snarls. “Do you think I enjoy this?"
"Daddy," she whimpers. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to cry, but the boy was so sad!”
"Tonight, I needed a good girl.”
She remembers the last time he was this angry. The image of his flaring nostrils still churns her belly. She promised never to cry again.
She hasn't cried in a long time. She has become very good at holding her tears in, ignoring the stinging behind her eyes and breathing slowly.
Her daddy once told her, 'Crying is a girl's way of manipulating us.
' She never knew who us was. She still doesn't know what manipulating means, but she knows deep in her core that she doesn't want to be it.
He drags her through the bedroom door. He tugs her up by her hair until she is on her feet. She stumbles, taking her own weight. Her lower lip trembles.
Daddy, stop.
Her teary eyes meet his, pleading. She can't help the tears. She can’t! His large, rough fingers wrap around her throat and squeeze. Her eyes widen.
Buzzing fills her ears. The room goes grey at the edges. He tightens his grasp, crushing, draining, shaking, tighter. The girl's eyes close and she goes limp.