Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Why don’t you show them the moves you’ve been perfecting with Dance Revolution on your Xbox.”
His eyes widened, and his face turned a bright shade of red.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was that a secret? Jackson if you needed dance lessons you could have just asked me. No need to film me to learn a few moves.”
“Shut up,” he warned under his breath.
“But, Jackson? What am I going to do with this new dance footage I have for you?” I didn’t have any new footage for him, but he didn’t have to know that. “I’m only trying to help you find the rhythm you’re obviously lacking based on the level your game is at. Beginners 101—”
He stepped toward me. “I mean it, shut your mouth, Camila.”
“Oh, so you do know my name?” I replied in a much softer tone. “I couldn’t tell with how many times you called me Mary Poppins in the comments section.”
“What do you want?”
“Take the video down or I’ll out you to your friends with how many dancing games you really do have.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Hey, guys—”
“They were my mom’s,” he interrupted, rendering me speechless. “I’ll take it down, alright? Now leave.”
“Jackson, did you just say they were your mom’s?”
“I said, leave. You don’t know shit.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“Then why don’t you go shake your ass on a pole where you belong, instead of at my house where nobody wants you.”
I frowned, unable to form words. Swallowing hard, I watched him walk away. Feeling at a loss.
Jackson: 1
Me: 0
I spent the rest of the day feeling like the piece of shit he wanted me to feel like. Focusing only on what he said to me.
“They were my mom’s.”
Chapter 9
<>Aiden<>
Then: Almost twelve-years-old
__________
“Get out of here, you little shit!” Mr. Byron shouted, slamming his fists down on the dining room table near five-year-old Nathan, making Bailey jump out of her skin.
I tried not to let it get to me, needing to stay strong for her. It was the only thing I had to offer. It was always the only thing I had to give her.
No one wanted us.
No one loved us.
No one protected us.
All we had was each other.
I hugged her, bringing her closer to my body.
Harder.
Tighter.
Firmer.
Needing to have her heartbeat next time to mine. It was the only time I knew we were alive.
She struggled to breathe.
To see.
To feel me against her.
“Bailey, please … it’s going to be alright.”
She cried, breaking apart in my arms.
“Boy, don’t make me tell you again! Get the fuck out of my sight, before I show you who’s boss around here!”
“Byron! Just leave—”
“You stupid bitch! Did I tell you to move? Did I give you permission to say a damn thing?”
“Byron, please calm down,” his wife, Carly, whimpered.
I knew he wouldn’t grant her any mercy, he never granted anyone mercy. Not even innocent kids.
We sank back further into the closet we were hiding in together. All the way back in the darkness shielded by stale-smelling clothes and coats, where no one could find us. It had become our favorite hiding spot, pretending we were the kids in the wardrobe from the book The Chronicles of Narnia, we read in Mrs. Jenner’s fifth grade class. Praying to be transported anywhere but here when Mr. Byron drank too much. The second he started yelling and hitting anyone in his sight.
We hated him.
The man was an asshole who was never nice to any of us. All he did was sit on his lazy ass, day in and day out, barking orders at his wife with a twelve pack of beer always close by his side.
The house was old and falling apart and smelled like dirty socks and moldy food all the time. We never understood why they kept taking in more kids if he didn’t want us there to begin with.
Being in the system for the last four years was a living, breathing nightmare that held us hostage against our will. Where we could never escape, never fully wake up, never get a moment of peace.
To speak our minds.
To have a say.
To know someone was on our side.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Bay. I promise.”
“Stop it!” Carly screeched, her voice laced with terror and defeat.
“Cover your ears,” I ordered her. “Like I showed you.”
“Fuck you!” he roared, calling her every name in the book. The sound of dishes breaking on the tile floor followed by ear-piercing screams filled the small space.
I never covered my ears like I made Bailey. I needed to hear, to make sure what his next move would be to keep us both safe. I heard it all.
Every vicious word.
Every blow to their bodies.
Every whimper.
Every sob.
Every time they begged, pleaded, prayed to God to make him stop.
“He’s hurting her, Aiden. He’s really hurting her this time.”
“I know. It’ll be over soon. Just hold on for a few more minutes, okay? Go to your happy place.”