your junk off my kitchen table, and get out of here,” she said, still quietly. She stepped away to allow me to leave. “You’re a disappointment, Lyla. I’m talking to your father about this when he gets home.”
I didn’t respond, only grabbed my backpack from the table and hurried into the bedroom. Colton and Grace both looked up from where they were playing with their stuffed animals on my bed. I couldn’t meet their eyes.
I felt a tear course down my cheek as I carefully turned my back on them and gently closed the door. I bolted all of the four locks I had installed over the years, and then, only when each one was tightly in place, just like my feelings, I turned to my siblings.
Grace held out a stuffed unicorn to me. “Want to play, Sissy?”
It was eleven o’clock and Colton and Grace were both sound asleep by the time my dad came home and he and my mother began their argument. It had begun just I had expected; my dad found the phone lying in two pieces on the kitchen floor, and lit into Mom for it. She protested, blaming me. Then, after she poured each of them a drink, the words flowed even more freely. I cringed when Dad threw a chair at the wall, complaining that my mother never did anything for him. I wanted to hide under the covers as Mom began to sob that Dad didn’t love her anymore. When he slapped her, I felt the pain of my own cheek sharp and fresh once more, and after he had finally shouted her into quiet, sobbing submission, I remained deadly silent as he came and rattled on our door.
It was three in the morning before the house was totally silent, and that was when I slipped onto my knees beside my bed, letting Colton and Grace’s smooth, steady breathing wash calm over me, the sweetest music to soothe the savaged breast. I bowed my head and clasped my hands together, finally alone, finally able to speak my mind.
Lord, I’m so scared. I wanted to scream it out loud, but had to settle for just shouting inside my head. The tears I had held back all evening while putting on a brave face for my siblings came like a flood, streaming down my cheeks as I buried my face in our faded comforter. I don’t know what to do. I need guidance. I know this isn’t truly my mom and dad. I remember when they were different. Why did they have to change? I just want to feel safe when I come home at the end of the day, not constantly on my guard.
I poured out my feelings to the only person I knew would listen. I told Him of my fear and panic when I had lost Colton and Grace at the library today, my secret wish to go all the way to Alabama with Natalie for the missions trip, how scared of my mom and dad I was, how I wanted things to be different.
I wished things could change. I wished Colton, Grace, and I didn’t have to lock the door before we went to sleep at night. I wished the days when my mom made us dinner and breakfast and sent us off to school weren’t so distantly in the past that even I could hardly remember them. I wished I had family, aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, that could help us. I wished I wasn’t the oldest, that this responsibility wasn’t mine.
But more than anything, I wished there were people I could trust. People who would be there when they said they would be, help us when they promised, and give me a shoulder to lean on, to cry on. And as I crawled into bed next to Grace, that was what I prayed for, though I never, ever would have admitted it.
CHAPTER FOUR
But to you who hear I say, love your enemies,
do good to those who hate you,
bless those who curse you,
pray for those who mistreat you.
Luke 6:27-28
The next day as I was walking into the house, flanked by Colton and Grace, the lights flickered and then went completely out. I stood in the entryway, closing my eyes and hoping this didn’t mean what I was sure it did. I tugged
I didn’t respond, only grabbed my backpack from the table and hurried into the bedroom. Colton and Grace both looked up from where they were playing with their stuffed animals on my bed. I couldn’t meet their eyes.
I felt a tear course down my cheek as I carefully turned my back on them and gently closed the door. I bolted all of the four locks I had installed over the years, and then, only when each one was tightly in place, just like my feelings, I turned to my siblings.
Grace held out a stuffed unicorn to me. “Want to play, Sissy?”
It was eleven o’clock and Colton and Grace were both sound asleep by the time my dad came home and he and my mother began their argument. It had begun just I had expected; my dad found the phone lying in two pieces on the kitchen floor, and lit into Mom for it. She protested, blaming me. Then, after she poured each of them a drink, the words flowed even more freely. I cringed when Dad threw a chair at the wall, complaining that my mother never did anything for him. I wanted to hide under the covers as Mom began to sob that Dad didn’t love her anymore. When he slapped her, I felt the pain of my own cheek sharp and fresh once more, and after he had finally shouted her into quiet, sobbing submission, I remained deadly silent as he came and rattled on our door.
It was three in the morning before the house was totally silent, and that was when I slipped onto my knees beside my bed, letting Colton and Grace’s smooth, steady breathing wash calm over me, the sweetest music to soothe the savaged breast. I bowed my head and clasped my hands together, finally alone, finally able to speak my mind.
Lord, I’m so scared. I wanted to scream it out loud, but had to settle for just shouting inside my head. The tears I had held back all evening while putting on a brave face for my siblings came like a flood, streaming down my cheeks as I buried my face in our faded comforter. I don’t know what to do. I need guidance. I know this isn’t truly my mom and dad. I remember when they were different. Why did they have to change? I just want to feel safe when I come home at the end of the day, not constantly on my guard.
I poured out my feelings to the only person I knew would listen. I told Him of my fear and panic when I had lost Colton and Grace at the library today, my secret wish to go all the way to Alabama with Natalie for the missions trip, how scared of my mom and dad I was, how I wanted things to be different.
I wished things could change. I wished Colton, Grace, and I didn’t have to lock the door before we went to sleep at night. I wished the days when my mom made us dinner and breakfast and sent us off to school weren’t so distantly in the past that even I could hardly remember them. I wished I had family, aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, that could help us. I wished I wasn’t the oldest, that this responsibility wasn’t mine.
But more than anything, I wished there were people I could trust. People who would be there when they said they would be, help us when they promised, and give me a shoulder to lean on, to cry on. And as I crawled into bed next to Grace, that was what I prayed for, though I never, ever would have admitted it.
CHAPTER FOUR
But to you who hear I say, love your enemies,
do good to those who hate you,
bless those who curse you,
pray for those who mistreat you.
Luke 6:27-28
The next day as I was walking into the house, flanked by Colton and Grace, the lights flickered and then went completely out. I stood in the entryway, closing my eyes and hoping this didn’t mean what I was sure it did. I tugged
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