Snapshot Page 14

  My stuff was right where I’d left it, and as I picked up the purple marker, I gasped. When Mama had called me for dinner, I’d rushed to the table so she wouldn’t have to call me twice, but I forgot to put the cap back on the marker. And while I ate, the purple ink had bled into the carpet fibers.

  I spit on the spot and leaned over using the edge of my shirt to try and scrub away the stain. To my horror, the spot only doubled in size and I now had a bright purple spot on my T-shirt. I panicked when I heard Mama get up from the table. I scooted my coloring book over to cover the spot and watched her carry the two uneaten plates into the kitchen. She scraped them into the trash with a low groan and turned her back to me as she washed off the plates in the sink.

  I left the coloring book and ran down the hallway of our trailer to get a soapy washcloth. Except there were no washcloths in my bathroom, so I had to go to the master bath to find one. I was just about to turn the corner back into the hallway when I heard the front door slam shut. The whole trailer rocked. I knew what had happened without even looking. My stepfather, Fred, was home.

  Oh, God. I froze, not knowing how to react. I wasn’t allowed in their room when Fred was home. I really wasn’t allowed in there ever, unless it was an emergency. I took a step back into the bedroom, shutting the door without a sound. My heartbeat raced like the flap of a bird’s wings as it took off into flight, becoming more rapid as the reality of my situation set in.

  I didn’t know how I was going to get out of this.

  The yelling started immediately.

  “Why isn’t dinner on the table?” Fred demanded.

  I heard the slur in his words and the waver in his voice and I knew. My heart sank. I couldn’t hear my mother’s response; it was muffled by the door. But I imagined the tired drone of her voice as she let him know just how late he’d been.

  “I just had a couple of drinks with the guys after work. It’s a Friday night. What do you expect?”

  More muffled response from my mama.

  More shouting from Fred.

  When I heard the plates crash to the floor, I wanted to be in my room. I needed to find my safe space, but I was stuck inside my parents’ room. And the only way out would be putting myself in the line of fire. I tuned them out as I scanned the room for an exit. I could try to go out a window, but it was December and rainy. I was wearing cotton Snoopy pajamas, hardly fit for the current chilly weather. My indecision cost me, because by the time I built up the nerve to crack the door open, I heard the next words out of Fred’s mouth.

  “Fuck… why is your little brat always leaving her shit on the floor?” I heard the thud as what I could only assume was my coloring book was kicked across the room. “What the fuck is that shit? Did you see this? I’ve had enough of that fucking brat. It’s time someone taught her some discipline.”

  The heavy thump of steel-toed boots thundered toward the hall.

  “Don’t you dare lay a hand on her. She’s my daughter!” Mama screamed, her voice growing closer with every syllable.

  I shut the door and backed away as I heard a smack and a thump, which could only have come from Mama being hit hard enough to send her crashing into a wall. Then came another crash. I looked around for somewhere to hide, but there weren’t a lot of options.

  “You’ll have to kill me before I let you lay a hand on her.”

  “Where is that little bitch?” Fred asked, ignoring Mama. I could hear him in my room, the slam of doors, the struggle of my mother to stop him. “She’s not here!” he roared.

  “Fred, stop.” I could hear the tears in my mama’s pleas. “I’ll clean it up. She only has washable markers—it can be fixed.”

  Their voices were growing closer to the door, and I stopped thinking. I dove onto the floor and rolled under the bed as I heard him crash into the bathroom I usually used.

  “I don’t give a fuck—you don’t discipline that bitch. She’s never going to learn. She’ll grow up to be a worthless piece of shit just like her mother.”

  The door to the room flung open, banging against the wall with such force that I was sure it had to have left a hole. Not that that was uncommon. There were patches everywhere. Mama was actually becoming quite good at repairing them. I saw Mama’s bare feet facing toward the hall like she was standing in the doorway.

  “Here, kitty, kitty,” Fred taunted.

  I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut. That superpower would come in handy now. Make it go away. Make it go away. Make him go away, I chanted in my mind, trying to ignore the smack of flesh on flesh.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “No.”

  “Why do you make me do this?” Smack.

  “Please, Fred. Just stop. Leave her alone. I’ll take care of this.”

  Smack.

  “Come out here, kitty. I’ve got something to say to you.”

  “Leave her alone.” Smack.

  My mother’s voice became more garbled the longer she stood there taking blow after blow. I couldn’t open my eyes until it got quiet all of a sudden. I peeked my eyes open, but they were no longer at the door. I was just about to let out a breath of relief when I felt it.

  His hand gripped around my ankle like a steel vise. I screamed and kicked at his hand with my other foot, trying to make him let go. My fingers dug into the carpet and ripped painfully as I lost the battle. He pulled me out.

  When I was clear of the bed, he swung me by my ankle until I hit the wall. All the breath whooshed out of me and I struggled to catch my next breath. When he bent down in front of me and his hand wrapped around my neck, I thought for sure I’d never breathe again.

  I couldn’t scream. Tears poured down my face as he lifted me by my neck, dragging me up the wall. The rough texture scraped against my skin through the thin pajamas. My eyes widened as I clawed at his hands and kicked at his stomach.

  His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. He smelled like he’d bathed in rum, and when he opened his mouth, my eyes burned.

  “You’re gonna learn, little bitch. One way or another.”

  Then I heard it. The shriek of my mama. The weird wet crunching sound. I didn’t realize my eyes had closed until I heard her next words.

  “Keep your eyes closed, baby,” she cooed in a soothing voice.

  Flesh smacked against flesh as he hit her again. Then her cries became garbled and choked. Tears streamed down my face as I thought for sure he was going to kill her this time.

  The odd thumping, crunching sound continued as my mama sobbed and released a strangled scream. I both felt and heard the moment they both hit the ground. I gasped for air and clutched at my throat, still feeling his hand there, but trying to reassure myself that I could breathe.

  I cried out, “Mama!”

  “Never touch her. You don’t get to touch her…”

  I curled against the wall, hoping that Mama would make it stop. That everything would get better. That this time she’d finally leave him. Hoping this would be enough to push her over the edge.

  When I felt a hand on my back, I screamed. My mama sobbed and pleaded with me. “Keep your eyes closed, baby. Keep ’em closed. Promise?”

  I nodded and kept them closed as she gathered me up and led me from the room. She sat me on my bed, and as soon as I felt the soft fuzz of my stuffed animals, I opened my eyes to watch her. She was covered in red spots from tiny little specks, to the big splotch over her tummy. She pulled out my suitcase, packing it with clothes and pictures and other stuff. I kept quiet, not knowing when Fred would come back and stop her.

  But soon she was zipping up the case, putting on my coat, and ushering me to the car. We got in and drove. I wasn’t surprised when we arrived at the police station. We’d done this every time we needed to stay in the women’s shelter. But this time was different. The drive to the station was silent. This time, she turned off the car and got out, taking me and my suitcase with her.

  The waiting room was cold and bare as we walked in. Mama sat me in a chair. The lady w
orking the front desk dropped her pen and her jaw and picked up a walkie-talkie on her desk, mumbling something into it.

  A lady police officer walked out next to a man in a mismatched suit. The man stopped to talk to Mama as the lady officer approached me and asked me if I wanted hot chocolate. I nodded and followed her to a room in the back. She told me that her name was Sheila and that she had two boys, but they were older than me. She talked and talked, about everything and nothing, until the lady from the front desk came in with a camera in her hand. She whispered to Sheila, and Sheila nodded.

  “Sweetheart, I need to take some pictures of you. Your mommy said it was okay. Can you show me everything that hurts?” Sheila said, taking the camera from the other lady.

  I stared at her, unblinking, not knowing what to do. I wanted my mama there to tell me it was okay. At twelve years old, I was old enough to know letting a stranger take pictures wasn’t okay, but not old enough to know how to politely state that.

  “It’s okay. I know you’re scared. I would be if I were in your shoes, but this’ll help your mom. I promise.”

  I nodded and pulled off my jacket, tugging the collar of my pajamas down to show her where my neck hurt. The lady from the front desk gasped and covered her mouth with a shaky hand. Tears welled in both their eyes, but mine had dried up long ago.

  When she was done with those, I showed her my ankle and my back. When I pulled up my shirt, the lady from the front desk made a strange noise and left the room.

  “Thank you, sweetie. Is that all of it?”

  I nodded.

  She wrote stuff down on a clipboard I didn’t notice she had. She gave me another cup of hot chocolate. It wasn’t until later that a man in a sweater, khaki pants, and loafers showed up, looking so much like Mr. Rogers that I swore it was a purposeful decision.

  “This is Mr. Tilde,” Sheila said. “He’s going to be taking you to a place where you can stay tonight.”

  “What? No.” I shook my head, not even bothering to look at the new guy. “I’m not leaving here without Mama.”

  Sheila’s eyes grew wide, like she couldn’t believe I had a voice. Or maybe it was that my voice was all faint and raspy. It did hurt to talk. She looked up at the man and back to me.

  “Sweetie, your mom’s not leaving here tonight. She might not be leaving for some time. But you can’t stay here. Mr. Tilde will keep you informed and bring you back to talk to her when that’s possible.”

  “No.” I folded my arms over my chest, pulling my coat closed over my Snoopy pajamas.

  “You can’t stay here,” she tried again.

  A big scary-looking man in handcuffs entered ahead of an officer. I looked to him, and at Mr. Tilde and Sheila.

  “Mama!” I yelled. It scratched and burned my throat, but I continued anyway. “Mama!”

  The man in the mismatched suit stuck his head out of a room. His eyes found me, and he ducked back inside. Moments later, Mama appeared in the same doorway. Tears ran down her face, streaking black from her mascara across her cheeks.

  Only once I broke free did I realize I’d been struggling against the hold Sheila had on my arm. I ran to Mama and wrapped my arms around her. She didn’t hug me back. Then I felt the cold metal cuffs binding her hands behind her back.

  She sobbed. “Baby, you have to go with these people. They’ll take care of you.”

  “No, Mama. I’m not…” Mr. Tilde’s arm came around my waist, and he picked me up. “No, Mama. Don’t let them take me. I need you.”

  Sheila stepped into my view of Mama, and I screamed. I kicked and bucked to get out of Mr. Tilde’s hold. He didn’t budge. I screamed as loud and as long as my voice would let me.

  I woke up, screaming and kicking, only to find that no one was holding me. Lightning flashed across the sky, but the storm had passed. Raindrops still trickled from the cliff face to the leaf-covered creek bed below. I had to get up. I had to get moving. Daylight would be coming soon, and so would Xander. My screams would’ve helped him find me. Fuck.

  Direction

  I’m not becoming my mother. I will not fall in love with a violent man the way she did. It’s for the best. No use in letting history repeat itself. Those words had been stuck in my head on repeat since I’d woken up. It was surprising how many times you could repeat that in a few short moments.

  It wasn’t the first time I wished my dad had been around at some point in my life. Had he been, things would’ve been different. Fred would still be alive at least. Not that Fred was a great loss to humanity, but I’d still have my mother. But even before then, the nights I’d spent in my closet were usually filled with vivid visions of him coming to get me and take me away from the madness.

  Sadly, he was just another statistic, another name on the big black wall they built in Washington a few years before. My mom’s high school sweetheart. He didn’t know when he voluntarily joined the Army during Vietnam that my mama was pregnant. Another part of her life that puzzled me—her first love was a hero; how could she ever have claimed to love a man like Fred?

  I shook my head to clear away thoughts better left to ponder when I wasn’t on the run from a crazed killer. I needed to move, and the sooner the better.

  After pulling out the map and the flashlight, I tried to lay it flat. The map was awkward and large, catching the wind. It didn’t help that I was trying to simultaneously peel a boiled egg I’d found in the bottom of my purse, while using my leg to hold down one side of the map. The light of the flashlight illuminated the map as held it next to my face and bit into the egg.

  It could use some salt and pepper.

  I let my gaze trace over the area surrounding the red dot, looking at the terrain outline until I found the creek and what I thought was two cliffs.

  I could’ve been totally wrong on this. I hadn’t read a map since I was, like, ten. Once I finished the egg, I rested my finger over the likely spot that marked where I was. It seemed awfully close to the house, compared to the surrounding cities. It would take several days for me to reach civilization.

  The thought oddly gave me some respect for the original settlers here in Texas. The journey they must’ve had to reach here. Crazy.

  I dug out my compass and adjusted the map for north, then found the nearest town I wanted to go to was roughly east-northeast. It was doubtful that walking a straight line was an option. I knew I’d have to stop and adjust my course along the way.

  Quickly, I packed everything up, folding the blanket so it fit in my purse with the rest of my stuff. I put the flashlight and compass in my left jacket pocket, the gun in the right for easy access, and I was set.

  The bed of leaves at the foot of the alcove was spongy beneath my feet as I crawled out of the alcove. The smell of rain and damp earth was potent, but the faint traces of cedar on the wind had my eyes darting around in paranoia. Breathing deep, I tried to calm myself. The scent vanished as quickly as it had appeared. There were cedar trees out here. It wasn’t him.

  My hand wrapped around the cold metal handle of the gun, calming me a bit as I set off in search of a place to climb up the cliff and head in the direction I wanted to go. The moon was back, but it was low on the horizon, casting eerie shadows while lighting the way. Thunder still rumbled in the distance, as lightning flashed across the sky. I couldn’t believe I’d slept through that so completely.

  I also couldn’t believe I’d dreamed about her, and that night. But now that I thought about it, that was probably where my fascination with the dead body came from. I never saw what happened to Fred. I’d always wondered what it had looked like. Not that I ever wished I’d looked. I’d struggled through what had happened as it was; seeing his body would’ve made it that much harder.

  But when I’d watch movies and TV shows, I’d wonder if that produced death came close to real life. I had my answer now; it wasn’t even close. Which made me more thankful that I was an obedient child and listened to my mother.

  The cliff to the east gave way to a steep s
loping hillside, and I was just about to attempt to scale it when I heard the snap of wood. I whipped around, bringing the gun up in front of me in the position Xander had taught me.

  I didn’t see anything immediately, so I pulled out the flashlight. Pressing it to the side of the gun, I flicked it on. I swung the gun around, sweeping over the visible area around me. The trees grew thick in this part of the creek bed, so much so I couldn’t see the other cliff, just glimpses of it through the trees. It was unsettling.

  Seeing nothing, I turned off the flashlight and spun around to scale the hillside and get the fuck out of this gorge.

  “Rosie.” Xander’s voice drifted on the cool breeze.

  It was soft like a whisper, yet loud at the same time. My heavy breaths puffed out like smoke in front of me as I scanned the area. I didn’t know which direction it came from. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Just when I was starting to believe that it was all in my head, I saw him.

  He was soaked to the bone. That much was obvious from a distance, but he was shrouded in shadows, unmoving. A ball of emotion lodged in my throat as I raised the gun with shaky hands in his direction.

  “Why did you come after me?” Tears welled in my eyes. “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about you. I only want to go home.”

  It was a lie because I’d every intention of going straight to the police, but I really didn’t think honesty would improve my odds of survival.

  He didn’t answer; instead he started toward me. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as fear took over. Survival instincts as old as time had me reacting before my brain caught up.

  I squeezed the trigger.

  Catch

  I wasn’t aiming directly for him, but rather a few inches to the left of his head. The bullet had to have flown right by his ear. It had the intended effect. He stopped his advance, dropped to a crouch, and darted behind a tree.

  “Do prdele! Zvonová sklenice, are you trying to kill me?”

  I shrugged slightly, tipping my head to the side as I watched for him to come out. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve aimed further to the right.”