Chapter 5 Wren
Wren
THE SONGBIRD
“Wren sweetie, come in here and help me set the table for dinner. Your father will be home soon.” Mommy says as she floats around the kitchen.
I hurry off the couch to help her. I don't want daddy to be mad at mommy again for not having dinner ready when he comes home from work. He doesn’t like it when things aren’t just right.
He works really hard and says he should come home to hot food on the table every day.
He says I should be quiet unless spoken to, and if we loved him, we’d do what he says.
I love daddy so much, so I need to listen to him so he knows just how much I love him.
Last time when dinner wasn’t ready, he sent me to my room and told me not to come out or I would be in big trouble.
All I heard was glass breaking and mommy screaming.
The next day her eye was all purple and she could barely open it.
She told me not to worry, though. She said she tripped on the rug.
Mommy is just so clumsy sometimes. But I know rugs don’t have fingerprints.
When I make it to the kitchen, mommy has placed the silverware and napkins on the table so I can put them around the plates for us.
I lay down the first two forks and napkins for mommy and daddy.
I’m about to lay mine down when daddy walks through the door.
He slams the door hard enough to make the glasses rattle and swears.
I don't like it when daddy swears, but he does it anyway.
“Keep your head down, honey, and just stay quiet tonight, okay?” The scared look on mommy’s face has me nodding. Tears start to form in my eyes and my lip starts to shake.
“No tears, baby. You’re going to be just fine.” She sets me in my chair, the one next to her and farthest from daddy. She walks to the stove as he makes his way into the kitchen and heads towards me.
“Wrennie, how’s my favorite girl doing today?” Daddy leans down to kiss my cheek just as mommy drops something on the counter, making me jump.
Daddy always kisses me before he goes to work, when he gets home, and right before bed.
Sometimes, when he tucks me in without mommy, he kisses me on the mouth.
I don't like when he does that. But when I said that, he told me to be a good girl and stay quiet and not tell mommy. That it was our little secret.
Secrets are fun, right baby?
I didn’t think so, but when daddy’s happy he’s nicer to mommy and I don’t want him to be mean to her because of me.
I try to keep my eyes on my plate like mommy said, but then he starts yelling.
“What the fuck is this? You made this dog shit again?” I flinch. Mommy was holding a spoon in her hand and stirring the pot, but she’s frozen now. Her face is really pale and she looks sick.
“I-I didn’t have time to go to the store today, but I used the spices you like. It’s just for tonight, I promise,” she says, her voice shaky.
“You promise? What the fuck good are your promises?” The spoon clatters to the floor. Mommy steps back with her hands up. “Please, not in front of Wren—”
His hand moves so fast, I almost don’t see it. The loud smack makes me jump so hard, my chair wobbles. Mommy falls to the floor, her hand on her cheek.
I don’t understand what’s happening. Why did daddy hit mommy? Why is he so mad?
“You stupid bitch, can’t even listen to basic commands. You’re no better than a whore on the streets.”
He yells some more. Awful words I don’t understand but know are bad. Mommy tries to stand, but he kicks her. She makes a sound like she can’t breathe.
“Stop!” I scream, jumping off my chair. I run to her, but daddy grabs my arm before I can reach her. It really hurts but I don't move.
“Go to your room, Wren,” he says, but his voice doesn’t sound like daddy anymore. He sounds mean and cold.
“But mommy’s hurt—” I try to argue, but he just yells some more.
“I said GO. NOW!”
He shoves me away and I trip, falling to the floor. My elbow hits the ground hard and it stings, but I barely notice through the tears.
Mommy's looking at me now, her lip bleeding. She tries to smile. “It’s okay, baby. Go on now. I’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t look fine, but I listen anyway and run to my room, shutting the door and crawling into the closet. I bury my face into Mr. Teddy Bear and squeeze my eyes shut. If I can’t see it, maybe it’s not real. Maybe mommy really is just clumsy.
Maybe daddy will be happy tomorrow.
I hear footsteps climbing the stairs. I pull Mr. Teddy Bear closer, trying to protect myself from the monster coming after me.
The door to the closet swings open, and I scream.
Ijolt awake, the screams from my nightmare following me into the waking world. I whip my head in every direction, making sure he isn't here.
But I know he isn’t. It's not possible. Mom made sure of that.
Reaching across the bed, I grab Mr. Teddy Bear and clutch him tightly to my chest. He’s the one thing that brings me back to the present and grounds me from all the terrible nightmares that plague me.
You’re alone in your bedroom, Wren. You’re fine. He can't get you here.
Sweat covers every inch of my body. My skin feels tight, as if it’s trying to hold all the fear inside and failing.
My sheets are tangled around my legs, clinging to me like a damn spiderweb I just walked into.
My hands tremble as I peel the sheets off, trying desperately to ground myself with each inhale of breath.
I haven't had that dream in years, not anything close to that. It was so fucking vivid, it’s almost as if I was there again. Did I scream too loud? I hope no one in the restaurant heard me. Probably thinking a girl is getting murdered up here.
Staring at the ceiling, I run a hand through the tangled mess of my hair. The glow of my phone screen blinks from the nightstand, taunting me with another text from him.
Richard.
His name alone is enough to make my stomach turn.
I told myself he didn’t scare me. That he was just some spoiled asshole who didn’t like being told no.
But when he grabbed me last night, when his fingers clamped around my arm and he leaned in, all smug and quiet, my body reacted before my brain did.
It was as if I was four years old again. Just a hopeless and scared little girl, cornered and wishing someone would come save her from the monsters that plagued her home.
I hate that he got to me. I hate that his touch woke up ghosts I thought I had long buried. It took years to build up the walls I’ve had firmly cemented in place, and in one touch, one disgusting look, he bulldozed right through them.
I close my eyes and try to shake the image of my mother lying motionless on the floor, blood in her hair. That memory should have faded by now, but trauma never fades. It waits, dormant and patient, ready to rip itself wide open again when you least expect it.
My jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it, it feels like they’re going to shatter from the pressure. I reach for my water bottle, my throat suddenly raw. I gulp it down and press the cool plastic against my cheek. My eyes drift to the sliver of sunlight trying to break through the blinds.
Morning. Damnit.
I grab my phone off my nightstand and check the time. No, afternoon. Fuck.
I’m gonna have to go to work soon. Retta texted me last night before I fell asleep asking if I could cover her lunch shift.
I didn’t want to, but I knew she would do it for me if I asked, so I need to get up.
I just have to wash the dread off my skin and pretend like I’m fine, because if I let this fear win or take up any more space than it already has, it’s going to swallow me whole.
Dragging myself out of bed, I peel the sweat drenched tank top off and toss it in the corner. My legs feel like they’re dragging as I attempt to make it to the bathroom. The light is so bright, I have to force my eyes to stay open. I can already feel a migraine start to thrum in my skull.
Staring at my reflection, hollow cheeks and red rimmed eyes gape back at me. I splash cold water on my face, hoping to shock some life back into place.
“You’re fine,” I whisper to my reflection, watching as my lips tremble. “You’re okay. He’s gone.”
My fingers curl around the rim of the sink. I can’t let this break me. Not again.
Connecting to my bluetooth speaker, I play 2 Be Loved by Lizzo, as if there was any other way to start my morning routine that isn’t singing at the top of my lungs.
I brush my teeth, pull my hair into a messy bun, and slip into my work clothes that are sure to get me some good tips.
Tight black jeans, a white cropped tank top—the usual—and layer on mascara, hoping to make my eyes look less haunted.
Retta would notice in a heartbeat otherwise.
I consider calling out last minute. Retta’s shift be damned.
I’ll just crawl back into bed and let the darkness consume me.
But Rich’s texts are still sitting there on my phone, and if I don’t get the fuck out of this apartment now, I’ll start thinking about what might have happened if Kage and Lennox hadn’t shown up last night.