11. Chapter 11

11

Hope

"I saw a guy bringing you home last night," Mom says casually, as she stirs the ladle in the pot.

Oh my God.

She saw Heath.

I can't lie to her now.

With a shaky breath I say, "Yes."

She faces me and arches an eyebrow. "Do you know him?"

I grow nervous under her scrutinizing gaze. In the pit of my stomach, I have a bad feeling about this conversation. Abort.

"Yes." Now this is a lie. I don't know Heath. Not really.

"How come? Do you two share any classes?" she asks with an edge to her tone. She's never seen me with a guy before. Perhaps that's the reason why she's suspicious.

"A few." I sip water to damp my parched throat, but I end up drinking half the glass.

I had no idea lying makes you thirsty.

"So, you went from not having friends to hanging out with boys. "

My mouth opens in shock. There's nothing going on between us. For Christ's sake, we're not even friends.

"It's not like that. He's just a friend." Okay, so, he isn't my friend now, but he's an acquaintance who'll later become a friend. I'm shadowing the future here. This is bizarre.

" Friend. I see how it is." She dries her hands with a washcloth hanging on the oven handle then turns to me. "I don't want that boy around you. Stay away from him. Guys like him want nothing but sex."

Heath would never want that from me. From what I've seen he minds his own business. Girls don't intrigue him. He never bats an eye at them.

"I don't think he's like that." I surprise myself by defending him.

"You aren't sure, and you can't be, because you don't know it, Hope." With a sigh she takes a seat at the table and drinks a glass of Scotch that she bought last night. Drinking has become a norm for her since dad left. "I'm not saying don't make friends but be careful. Even if you want to be around him, just stay friends. No sleepovers or staying out late alone with him."

I nod.

Mom opens her purse and counts the wad of cash she got as her paycheck. She categorizes it into groceries, bills, college funds, and other things. When she's done she rubs her temple and chugs down another glass.

"This isn't much, but I think we'll be able to make this work. If only I could go to the city and get a good job," she muses.

The idea of making those bracelets pops into my mind. I plan to go out today and buy the materials.

"I need money to buy a second-hand textbook from the store. Our teacher said it's a great reference book for those who want to pursue medicine," I ramble off, feeling horrible on the inside.

I hate lying, but I also can't tell her about my plan. She won't understand and call it stupid and the hopeful part of me doesn't want to hear any of that. I'm doing this for me. I can't back down. I don't want to.

"Sure," she quickly agrees and hands me the bills.

I hold the money tightly to my chest. "Thank you."

"It's all right, sweetie. If you need more let me know." She brings the bottle to her mouth instead of using the glass and I just know it's going to be a long night.

The next day, I buy some of the items, for the rest I use the internet at the library to order those. The librarian is kind enough to let me use her computer.

It's late in the evening when I arrive home. I see a shadowy, tall figure trying to open the door with what appears to be a key. The lights are off in the house so I can't make out his face. The door opens, and he switches on the lights. Turning around he closes the door but stops when he sees me.

It's Dad.

Fear possesses me. My hand tightens around the handles of the bag as if my life depends on it.

Dad leaves the door open and gestures to me to come inside.

Everything in me wants to run the other way. It's getting late and the streets are a dangerous place to be out at night. Especially when addicts and perverts roam in the shadows of the alleyways. So, I have no choice but to go inside.

Taking slow steps, I enter, and he closes the door behind me. I'm about to run upstairs when he grabs my wrist and pulls me to him. Leaning over me, he glares down at me with his wild red eyes.

"Where is the money?" he asks. His breath stinks of alcohol.

"There isn't any," I lie.

Dad squeezes my wrist. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

He hauls me into the kitchen and lets go of me. He stomps to the refrigerator and searches for the money but comes up empty handed. Curse words leave his mouth as he bangs his fists against the door of the appliance.

Dread seeps into my bones. I stand like a statue in front of him.

"The money is supposed to be here. Where the fuck did it go?" he asks me in a menacing tone. I cower in fright.

This won't end well for me.

"You should know where Mae put it."

I see the Scotch bottle sitting on top of the cabinets. I have no idea why Mom put it up so high, but it looks like a golden ticket for me to get out of this situation.

"I don't know about the money, I swear. But there is Scotch." I point to the bottle, and he turns to look at it.

He takes the stool and stands on it. "You were of some use, pathetic girl."

This is my chance.

I sneak upstairs. From the corner, I watch him leave without looking back at me—not that I wanted him to.

Hurrying downstairs I lock the door—not that it matters, he has the key.

I return to my room. Switching on the lamp, I look at the bruises on my wrist and cringe at the awful sight of them.

If someone sees them, they'll know someone assaulted me. How do I tell them it was my father? The man who's supposed to protect me now abuses me, because he needs money for his booze.

I'm confused, scared and alone. I don't know what to do. How to make him stop from coming here. When he was gone, I thought he was gone for good. I thought it was forever.

I was so relieved. He was done hurting my mother and terrorizing us. How wrong I was.

The nights are chilly due to the giant forest and greenery surrounding the town. Tall cliffs and rocky hills add to the topography, you can see the whole town from up there. That's also where the rich people live.

I've always wondered what life looks like when you stand on the top and look down. I imagine it must be beautiful, seeing the lights and buzz of the town.

I pull the edge of the blanket over to my chin and snuggle into it. Picking up the book from beside my pillow I get lost in the words that work like a bridge. They take me from one place to the other.

An escape that I desperately need.