I hate my brother. I hate my parents. I hate every adult in Sweet Haven. The only reason Trey is being nice right now is because he doesn’t want me to scream and wake our parents.
“Please, Trey. I don’t wanna.” Tears leak from my eyes. I clutch my pillow and draw it closer to me.
When he begins pulling down my bottoms, I grab onto the waistband to hold them up. He pinches my side hard. “Let go, Liam. All you have to do it just lay there and let me do what I want.”
I let go of the waistband. Not only because he’s still pinching me, but also because the sound of his voice has changed. He sounds like he does on Hell Night. He sounds like the devil.
My pants are
pulled off and his hand runs up my leg and over my butt. I let him push me to my stomach because he’s so much bigger and stronger than me. There’s no way I could make him stop, and I fear what he’ll do if I try. During Hell Nights, Trey is mean. Like really mean.
“Just lay there like a good boy and go to sleep. Let your big brother love you like I’m supposed to,” he whispers into the dark.
His weight settles on my back, and I bury my face into my pillow. I push my head so hard into the fluffy surface that I can barely breath. I wish I could just stop breathing. That would mean I wouldn’t feel the pain I know is coming.
My pillow case is wet from my tears and snot, but I don’t care. I keep my face pressed against it. When the first bite of pain hits, I scream. I scream so hard my throat hurts. No one can hear it though, because it’s muffled by my pillow.
I cry and cry and cry some more, wishing the whole time I was big enough, strong enough, brave enough to force my brother to stop. But I’m not. I’m little and weak, so I let him hurt me over and over again, his grunts hitting my ears and his sweat dripping on my back. And when he’s done and rolls away to his feet to leave my room, I curl up into a ball as small as I can get and cry even more.
EDEN
I POP THE PILL OUT OF THE back of my birth control packet and tip my head back, dropping it in my mouth filled with water. Giving my head a shake, I swallow it down. I grab the packet and stuff it back in my make-up case, making a mental note to find the pharmacy here because I’ll need a refill soon.
Once I’m dressed, I go back into my room and grab my phone. I heard it ring while I was in the bathroom. Looking at the two missed calls from Mom, I let out a little sigh. The woman is driving me crazy. I mean, I understand her worry, but no matter how many times I’ve told her I can’t tell her what’s going on, she asks me every time I talk to her.
Knowing she’ll probably call the police if I don’t call her back, I press her name and bring the phone to my ear. She answers halfway through the first ring.
“Eden Marie Delmont, don’t you ever scare me like that again!” she screeches over the line. I wince at the high pitch tone. “Why didn’t you answer?”
“Jesus Christ, Mom. I was in the bathroom.” I huff out a breath, blowing a few strands of hair from my face.
“Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. I’m not really sorry. I love her, but the woman is maddening.
“Tell me what’s going on? When are you coming home?” she demands.
Rolling my eyes, I hold back what I really want to say, and try my best to keep my tone light.
“I’m not sure when. I’m still trying to figure things out, but I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” Before she can grill me further, which I know she wants to do, I ask, “How’s Daddy?”
“Your dad’s fine. Just worried about you. Still grumbling about his new diet.”
I laugh, because I can just imagine Dad fussing over his low-carb diet and trying to sneak in sweets when he thinks she won’t see him. Mom sees everything. I swear she has cameras hidden all over the house.
A few weeks ago, Dad found out he was on the verge of diabetic ketoacidosis. Luckily, he wasn’t so close that he had to be admitted and was sent home with strict instructions on how to change his diet. Before then, Dad didn’t even know he was diabetic. Mom freaked out, of course, and started him on a new diet regimen right away. Any time I was over at the house for dinner, which was a couple times a week, he always bickered about what she made.
“Just keep on him. He’ll get used to it eventually,” I tell her.
“You know me. He can gripe all he wants, but it’ll do him no good.” She turns quiet before she says somberly. “We miss you, Eden. I want you to come home. Whatever’s going on, we can figure it out together.”
A lump forms in my throat and I’m forced to clear it before I can talk. “I can’t, Mom. I wish I could, but I just can’t. I swear I’m safe where I am.”
I close my eyes at the sound of her sniffle. I hate hurting her, but this kind of hurt is much more bearable than the pain she’ll go through if I go back home. I have no doubt Diego will go after her and Dad if I’m there.
“Okay,” she says after several silent moments. “I trust you. Just promise you’re being careful.”
“I promise. Give Dad a big hug and kiss for me. And tell him he better continue following his diet or he’ll have me to deal with along with you.”