Broken

CHAPTER FOUR: Blood Red Roses

"Hell is just a state of mind."

Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus

It was early in the afternoon on the day my anger overcame the icy confinement of my fear. My stepfather had put his hands inside my pants. His sour breath wafted over me as he whispered, "You're getting pretty, girl. Let me see how pretty that p***y is now."

I realized at that moment I could kill him with a word. I told him in a calm voice if he touched me again, I would kill him. I remembered Grandma Spencer's warning and fought the urge to end his worthless life. My power burned inside me. The knowledge that I could kill him frightened me, but it also made me feel invincible.

Linda heard me and walked over to slap me across my face. The moment her hand rose, I decided it would be the last beating I ever took. She had no idea of the danger she was in and that amused me.

I laughed at her. "Do you feel better now?" I asked without showing the slightest hint of contrition. She was shocked I hadn't cowered and for that moment, she didn't do anything. She stared at me in open-mouthed astonishment. I noted the flicker of fear in her eyes, which emboldened me. I snickered and said in a glacial tone, "Your swine of a husband is never going to touch me again. I am afraid you will have to suck his rancid d**k from now on."

My voice was cold, calm, and cut with surgical precision as I gave her pointers to give her husband a blowjob. I warned her not to let the stench from his d**k get in her hair or she would never get it out. I suggested she take out her false teeth and give him a real thrill. I c****d my head to one side in cold assessment and said, "Oh, that's right. He doesn't come to you for blowjobs; he prefers little girls for that."

Her astonishment turned into a frenzied rage. She began beating me relentlessly and took out the razor strap to aid her assault. The blows only served to strengthen my contempt for her. I let her beat me and laughed the entire time. I couldn't feel the blows. My taunts became more truthful and pointed. I asked her why she hadn't used Sarah's money to buy back her soul. I laughed because she would never have enough money.

"It's true you aren't a beauty queen anymore, but couldn't you get him drunk enough to lure him away from your five-year-old daughter? Tell me; were his measly paychecks worth it to you? I bet you were happy you didn't have to blow him yourself." Rage eclipsed my fear. My words were shot at her with the force and accuracy of a sniper.

My frank insolence infuriated her. She screamed, her face purple with rage. She clenched her fist and grabbed my long hair to hold me while she blackened my eyes and busted my lips on my teeth. I remember losing patches of hair trying to escape and the blood running down my face. I climbed the steps to Sarah's room that I had made my own. I didn't stop talking even as she chased me with her fist raised to hit me again.

"Imagine if you had answered your interview question honestly? That would have been a jaw-dropper." I mimicked her breathy beauty pageant voice, "I plan to marry a man that smells like roadkill. Then I'll let my five-year-old daughter blow him for me. I know how to delegate important tasks!"

I had cracked myself up and had to stop to laugh for a moment. I managed to say through my laughter, "You should have f****d the judges instead of every man in the trailer park." I heard her scream that she was going to kill me. Oh, no you're not, Mother, I laughed to myself.I turned to her at the door to my room and asked calmly, "Oh, what now, Mother? Haven't you gotten your pound of flesh yet?" The blood from my busted mouth hit her in the face. The sight of my bloody spittle dripping down her face made me laugh. While I was doubled over laughing, something hit me so hard my world went black.

I woke, still on the floor where I had fallen, and there was a voice in my head that I'd never heard screaming at me that I had to get out. Linda would kill me. I wouldn't see it coming. My stomach and chest were screaming with the knowledge. I had a strong vision of uniformed men searching for my body. The authorities may not find my body if I didn't leave right then. The voice was soft, but firm. "MOVE!" I remembered Sarah saying, "You have to get out." It was as if Sarah and a woman I didn't know were both there with me, both inside me and giving me the strength I needed.

My eyes were nearly swollen shut and it was hard to focus. Objects were blurry and seemed much further away than I knew they were. I became dizzy when I tried walking across the room and started to fall, but caught myself on the bedpost. Terror filled me and panic began to set in, but I forced myself to move. I had to make it to my bookshelf.

The trembling of my hands made it almost impossible for me to be silent. I searched desperately for the money I had been hiding in my books. I went through as many as possible but I was afraid my mother would hear me. She might discover I was still alive.

I stuffed what money I could find in my pocket. I commanded the window to open and climbed out. I found a foothold on Sarah's rose trellis and began to climb down as I had seen Sarah do a hundred times.

I tried not to look at the ground but I couldn't help it. It was fuzzy and seemed miles away. My heartbeat pounded in my ears and fear would freeze my body, forcing me to stop until I could move again. Thorns cut my fingers and I felt sick but I held on. I kept climbing.

I was almost to the ground when a thorn caught the side of my face, leaving a long, thin cut across my cheek. I tried to jump the last couple of feet to the grass below but fell on my ass. My head exploded with pain, and I might have blacked out. Eventually, I climbed to my feet, unsteady but triumphant. I had made it down that damn trellis.

A neighbor saw me as I staggered drunkenly. She ran over to ask if I was all right. Her voice died in her throat when she saw my long hair matted with blood. My eyes were swollen and turning ugly shades of red and purple. Blood poured from my busted mouth and the cut on my cheek.

I rounded the corner to the gate and saw Earl standing there waiting for me. In his hand was a baseball bat covered in my blood. He was hiding it behind his leg. I closed my eyes and whispered, "Let him die now." Earl dropped the bat and grabbed his head. He seemed to be choking on something and then fell over in front of us.

My neighbor put her arms around me and whispered soothing words. She hurried me past Earl's body and into her home. The lock clicked behind us and my entire body sighed in relief. She called the police and an ambulance. I had passed out in her kitchen, dripping blood on her clean white floor.