early hours of the morning when I was tucked safely in my warm house-my parents asleep in their bed two doors down the hall.
Jess breathed deeply and let out a long puff of air. Still clenching my hand in his, he removed it from his arm and held it in his lap as he leaned back in his chair, slumping like a tired teenager in a first-period geometry class. He closed his eyes for probably the first time since four o’clock that morning.
“I heard something in the middle of the night, some kind of scratching sound. I thought I should go check it out, but I was so tired. The neighbor’s cat comes and scratches on our back door so much; I just figured that was what the sound was, and I fell back asleep.” He ran the hand that wasn’t holding mine through his hair. He looked so tired. “I have no idea how much time passed before I woke up again to Maggie’s screaming. I ran down the hall to their room and saw my dad holding Viv tightly around her shoulders while covering her mouth. Maggie was sitting on the bed crying and begging him to let go of her. I’ve never seen her so scared. I’ve never seen any of us so scared.” Jess’s eyes were open now, and he was gazing up into nothingness. It was as though the whole experience was being projected onto the white ceiling and Jess was giving me a play by play as he watched it before him. “I had no idea what to do. I wanted to attack him, but he’s my dad. I ran toward him and pulled Viv from his clenching hands. It was easier than I thought, and he kind of tripped to the side as I pulled her away from him. He was obviously drunk, but not so much that he didn’t know what he was doing. He yelled at me. He told me to go to my room-like I was still ten years old and I had just come home with a bad report card. I obviously didn’t go to my room; instead I begged him to leave. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stood cowardly in front of my drunk father and begged him to leave us alone. That’s when my mom came in. She told me to take Viv and Mags into my room and close the door. She said she would handle it. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave her, but she wanted me to protect the girls. So I did as she said. I took them into my room, and I tucked them into my bed. I knelt on the floor by my bedroom door and listened to them talk. My mom tried to stay calm, but my dad was yelling as she led him downstairs and toward the back door. Their conversation grew faint as they got farther away, so I got up to check on the girls. They were holding each other under my covers, and they were both crying. That’s when I heard odd sounds coming from downstairs. I left the girls in my room and ran downstairs as fast as I could. I found my dad standing over my mom, who was curled up in a ball on the floor. I ran toward him just as he smashed one of our solid oak dining table chairs over her back. He raised the chair to do it again, but I intervened. I don’t know how many times he hit her before I got there.”
Jess wasn’t crying anymore. His eyes were emotionless, his face stone cold. He looked numb. Minutes passed before either one of us said anything. The silence in the room made Caris’s condition seem that much worse. I’m sure there was much more to the story than Jess had the energy to tell me, but he finished with, “The rest is a blur. The next thing I knew, you were sitting here next to me, and I was crying like a baby.”
I held my free hand around my ribs. It felt cold in the hospital room with its white walls and the metal bed. I thought about my warm, picturesque living room with the fire popping and the Christmas tree lights twinkling. How I wished that Jess and I were sitting together there, looking at all our presents rather than his bruised and hurting mother. I hated alcohol. I hated mean people. I hated Jess’s dad.
The door to Caris’s room opened slowly, and Mom’s head peered around the side. “How is she?” she whispered as she
Jess breathed deeply and let out a long puff of air. Still clenching my hand in his, he removed it from his arm and held it in his lap as he leaned back in his chair, slumping like a tired teenager in a first-period geometry class. He closed his eyes for probably the first time since four o’clock that morning.
“I heard something in the middle of the night, some kind of scratching sound. I thought I should go check it out, but I was so tired. The neighbor’s cat comes and scratches on our back door so much; I just figured that was what the sound was, and I fell back asleep.” He ran the hand that wasn’t holding mine through his hair. He looked so tired. “I have no idea how much time passed before I woke up again to Maggie’s screaming. I ran down the hall to their room and saw my dad holding Viv tightly around her shoulders while covering her mouth. Maggie was sitting on the bed crying and begging him to let go of her. I’ve never seen her so scared. I’ve never seen any of us so scared.” Jess’s eyes were open now, and he was gazing up into nothingness. It was as though the whole experience was being projected onto the white ceiling and Jess was giving me a play by play as he watched it before him. “I had no idea what to do. I wanted to attack him, but he’s my dad. I ran toward him and pulled Viv from his clenching hands. It was easier than I thought, and he kind of tripped to the side as I pulled her away from him. He was obviously drunk, but not so much that he didn’t know what he was doing. He yelled at me. He told me to go to my room-like I was still ten years old and I had just come home with a bad report card. I obviously didn’t go to my room; instead I begged him to leave. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stood cowardly in front of my drunk father and begged him to leave us alone. That’s when my mom came in. She told me to take Viv and Mags into my room and close the door. She said she would handle it. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave her, but she wanted me to protect the girls. So I did as she said. I took them into my room, and I tucked them into my bed. I knelt on the floor by my bedroom door and listened to them talk. My mom tried to stay calm, but my dad was yelling as she led him downstairs and toward the back door. Their conversation grew faint as they got farther away, so I got up to check on the girls. They were holding each other under my covers, and they were both crying. That’s when I heard odd sounds coming from downstairs. I left the girls in my room and ran downstairs as fast as I could. I found my dad standing over my mom, who was curled up in a ball on the floor. I ran toward him just as he smashed one of our solid oak dining table chairs over her back. He raised the chair to do it again, but I intervened. I don’t know how many times he hit her before I got there.”
Jess wasn’t crying anymore. His eyes were emotionless, his face stone cold. He looked numb. Minutes passed before either one of us said anything. The silence in the room made Caris’s condition seem that much worse. I’m sure there was much more to the story than Jess had the energy to tell me, but he finished with, “The rest is a blur. The next thing I knew, you were sitting here next to me, and I was crying like a baby.”
I held my free hand around my ribs. It felt cold in the hospital room with its white walls and the metal bed. I thought about my warm, picturesque living room with the fire popping and the Christmas tree lights twinkling. How I wished that Jess and I were sitting together there, looking at all our presents rather than his bruised and hurting mother. I hated alcohol. I hated mean people. I hated Jess’s dad.
The door to Caris’s room opened slowly, and Mom’s head peered around the side. “How is she?” she whispered as she
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