never happened though. I was always in the way. That’s what made me determined to make Tristan and Ivy’s childhood better than mine. I never wanted them to feel unloved or uncared for. I wanted them to know they were special, because it was true. Every child is special. A gift.
Tristan held out his small hand and led me to the bedroom he shared with Ivy.
I spent hours making forts and playing with dinosaurs beneath them. I understood the appeal to building a fort. You could pretend you lived in a different world, a world where nothing could touch you, and bad guys didn’t exist. The blankets served as a cocoon, protecting you from everything evil. You couldn’t stay hidden forever though and eventually the bad guys would find you. They always did.
“This dinner looks tasty,” Jim patted his round stomach as I leaned over to place the turkey on the table. As I pulled back his fingers grazed my breasts. I shuddered in response, revulsion clinging to me like the tendrils of vines.
I started counting in my head so that I didn’t do or say something that would get me in trouble.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
After the numbers flitted through my mind I felt calmer and more centered.
Since a card table served as our dining table, I chose to stand by th e counter with my plate of food after I’d helped Ivy and Tristan with theirs. Besides, I didn’t want to be near Jim anyway…or my mom. I was surprised she was actually eating something and not already passed out.
We all ate in silence. We didn’t have anything to talk about, so there was no point in making idle chat. Even Ivy and Tristan said nothing.
My mom’s fork clattered to the ground. “Fuck!” She exclaimed, her face going red with anger. She always got so angry over the dumbest things. “Rowan! Get that!”
I sighed, sitting my plate down. I wanted to tell her to get it herself, but I’d rather avoid an argument.
I got down on my hands and knees, crawling beneath the table to retrieve the fork that was right beside her foot. I grabbed the fork and started to back out. My movements halted momentarily when Jim’s hand landed firmly on my butt, squeezing. Oh, hell no. I was tempted to pierce his bare foot with the fork in my hand for that one.
“Ew! Jim has his hand on Row’s butt!” Tristan exclaimed.
I hastily scooted all the way out and jumped up, tossing the dirty fork in the sink and grabbing a new one for my mom. She snatched it out of my hand so quickly that the prongs scratched my skin. “You little whore,” she seethed, “always enticing the men, even my husband.” Her hazel eyes—the exact same shade as mine—were full of hate. Of course she’d consider Jim touching my butt my fault, instead of seeing that the guy was a scumbag. Her thought process was so twisted. I preferred her when she was too drunk to cause trouble. She was ridiculous.
I knew better than to say anything. It would only serve to make her angry, and I didn’t feel like hearing her spout hateful comments at me. If she got really mad her fists would start flying, and I didn’t want the kids to see that. She’d never hit Ivy or Tristan, only me and even that was occasionally. If she laid a hand on one of those kids though…I don’t know what I might do. Whatever it was, it would probably land my butt in jail.
“I don’t know why the fuck you still live here?” She continued, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. She took a long drag and continued, “Ain’t you eighteen now? I shouldn’t have to pay for your sorry ass.”
Anger simmered in my veins at that comment, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “For starters, I’m twenty-one, and mom ,” I said in a condescending tone, “you haven’t paid for my ‘sorry ass’ in a long time. You don’t work, and he barely makes enough money to buy a loaf of bread. So, who’s money keeps this roof over your head?” I glared at her, hatred for the woman that
Tristan held out his small hand and led me to the bedroom he shared with Ivy.
I spent hours making forts and playing with dinosaurs beneath them. I understood the appeal to building a fort. You could pretend you lived in a different world, a world where nothing could touch you, and bad guys didn’t exist. The blankets served as a cocoon, protecting you from everything evil. You couldn’t stay hidden forever though and eventually the bad guys would find you. They always did.
“This dinner looks tasty,” Jim patted his round stomach as I leaned over to place the turkey on the table. As I pulled back his fingers grazed my breasts. I shuddered in response, revulsion clinging to me like the tendrils of vines.
I started counting in my head so that I didn’t do or say something that would get me in trouble.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
After the numbers flitted through my mind I felt calmer and more centered.
Since a card table served as our dining table, I chose to stand by th e counter with my plate of food after I’d helped Ivy and Tristan with theirs. Besides, I didn’t want to be near Jim anyway…or my mom. I was surprised she was actually eating something and not already passed out.
We all ate in silence. We didn’t have anything to talk about, so there was no point in making idle chat. Even Ivy and Tristan said nothing.
My mom’s fork clattered to the ground. “Fuck!” She exclaimed, her face going red with anger. She always got so angry over the dumbest things. “Rowan! Get that!”
I sighed, sitting my plate down. I wanted to tell her to get it herself, but I’d rather avoid an argument.
I got down on my hands and knees, crawling beneath the table to retrieve the fork that was right beside her foot. I grabbed the fork and started to back out. My movements halted momentarily when Jim’s hand landed firmly on my butt, squeezing. Oh, hell no. I was tempted to pierce his bare foot with the fork in my hand for that one.
“Ew! Jim has his hand on Row’s butt!” Tristan exclaimed.
I hastily scooted all the way out and jumped up, tossing the dirty fork in the sink and grabbing a new one for my mom. She snatched it out of my hand so quickly that the prongs scratched my skin. “You little whore,” she seethed, “always enticing the men, even my husband.” Her hazel eyes—the exact same shade as mine—were full of hate. Of course she’d consider Jim touching my butt my fault, instead of seeing that the guy was a scumbag. Her thought process was so twisted. I preferred her when she was too drunk to cause trouble. She was ridiculous.
I knew better than to say anything. It would only serve to make her angry, and I didn’t feel like hearing her spout hateful comments at me. If she got really mad her fists would start flying, and I didn’t want the kids to see that. She’d never hit Ivy or Tristan, only me and even that was occasionally. If she laid a hand on one of those kids though…I don’t know what I might do. Whatever it was, it would probably land my butt in jail.
“I don’t know why the fuck you still live here?” She continued, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. She took a long drag and continued, “Ain’t you eighteen now? I shouldn’t have to pay for your sorry ass.”
Anger simmered in my veins at that comment, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “For starters, I’m twenty-one, and mom ,” I said in a condescending tone, “you haven’t paid for my ‘sorry ass’ in a long time. You don’t work, and he barely makes enough money to buy a loaf of bread. So, who’s money keeps this roof over your head?” I glared at her, hatred for the woman that
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