Waiting For You

Prologue

~ Marshall Kennedy ~

About Seven Years Ago

Just like every night, my door was locked and a chair jammed beneath the knob. The bells I’d snaked from the Christmas tree this year were wrapped around the top of the chair. No one was getting in without me knowing it. And if they tried, I had my steel bat beside me.

Most kids were afraid of the monster in the closet or the boogie man under the bed. I had more fear of the one who lived down the hallway. The one who went by the name Uncle.

I was almost asleep when I heard the footsteps in the hallway. The squeaky floorboards were my friends as my fingers tightened around the grip of the bat. Terror, shame and anger at having that shame had me at the ready. Consequences be damned. I hoped someone called the police. I prayed for it, but I couldn’t outright ask for it. The horror I dealt with went unspoken. Bruises had taught me to keep my lips shut and not to utter a sound.

The doorknob jiggled and stirred the bells slightly.

“Marshall, are you alright, son? I thought I heard a noise.”

Even at eleven and a half, I knew better than to believe my uncle’s false concern. It was an act, a way to get an invitation inside. My jaw clenched.

“Do you need me to go get your mom?”

“No,” I yelled. “I’m fine.”

God, the last thing I wanted was my mother. She punish me and destroy the defenses I’d set up.

“Are you sure? Let me in, so I can check.”

I’d rather die.

My head shook, even though he couldn’t see me. She’d hit me and he’d…

I tasted blood in my mouth and shook my head harder.

“No!”

“Marshall—” The warning was clear, and I trembled, more fearful than I wanted to let on. More ashamed than I ever thought I could be. I pushed off my blanket and moved into a position that would allow me to swing the bat. The moonlight lit me enough to show the bruises on my arms from the last time I hadn’t been prepared.

“Go away,” I demanded. “Go away or I’ll tell everyone what you did.”

He was silent for a long moment, and I almost thought he’d snuck away. “You think they’d care?” he rasped. “No one will believe a little liar like you.”

Fear shivered in my chest, as cold as the time I’d accidentally gotten locked outside for hours one winter without my coat. Right now, with this monster so close, I shook hard enough I never thought I would stop. I didn’t think I could speak without him hearing how scared I was. I couldn’t give him any power. What did my dad say? Never let them see you down? He wasn’t exactly a good role model, though. I saw his bruises and cuts, too.

“Someone will believe me. Someone will listen.”

He didn’t say anything. Finally, I heard him storm away, and I sat back against my headboard, my legs curled to my chest, the bat still clenched in my hand. Waiting. Breathing hard. Shaking with the full fear I finally allowed to come in.

I hadn’t won. I knew I hadn’t.

I didn’t sleep.

I barely slept for years until I was old enough he couldn’t touch me. That he wouldn’t dare. Because he knew I was big enough, strong enough that I’d hurt him. Even then, I took precautions, kept a weapon of some sort nearby. Kept my anger wrapped tightly around me. And he never tried again after I gave him a black eye. I’d been grounded for a month, and my mom’s punishment had kept me out of school for a week.

Worth it.