Page 82 of Off Sides

“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” She reaches for my forehead.

“Emma is being abused.”

Everyone stops talking, even the little kids Jack and Ross who are sitting across from me. They’re six and seven but they know what I just said. No one that comes into this house is unaware unless they’re infants.

“Nick, this isn’t really the place?—”

“It’s never the place or the time.” I slam my hands on the table. “She’s being hit. She’s got a bruise on her face this time. That bastard hit her! You have to do something!”

Mom and Dad share a look, the little boys are curling in on themselves, and I want to scream. They don’t handle raised voices well, I know that, and now I feel like a dick. Squeezing my hands into fists until my arms shake, I suck in a deep breath and force myself to speak calmer.

“You’re a mandated reporter. You can’t ignore this.”

“I’m not ignoring it, Nick. I never have.” Mom covers my hand with hers. “The first time you mentioned anything to me, I told our case worker.” I scoff and pull my hand off the table, crossing my arms instead. “They said there was an investigation but nothing came of it.”

“Because any kid that goes into that house is terrified to talk!” I swing my arm out like I’m pointing to the house. As if she doesn’t know which one I’m talking about. “No one ever does and you don’t think that’s weird?”

“There’s no proof, Nick. I’m sorry.”

I shove back from the table, pulling at my hair, and let out a scream as I bend over my knees.

I hate this. I hate being helpless. I hate that someone I love is being hurt and all I can do is sit back and fucking watch.

Hands rest on my back and I don’t have to look to know it’s Brent.

“Breathe, man. Just breathe.” He’s crouched in front of me, talking quietly and calmly, giving me something to anchor myself to. Mom and Dad don’t try anymore, they just let Brent deal with me while they take care of the mess I created.

Fuck. I have to apologize to the boys too. It’s my fault they will be scared and probably jumpy for a while after this.

But all I want is for my mom to hug me and tell me we’ll find a way to help Emma. I drop down onto my haunches and Brent wraps his arms around my shoulders.

I startle awake when something wraps around me. Without thought, I drop off the edge of the bed and roll to standing, panting and looking around for the threat. My heart is pounding and panic is riding me hard. Something tickles my cheek and I swipe it quickly, only to realize it’s tears.

What the fuck is happening?

Rolling my shoulders, I force my body into a relaxed stance and look around again. I’m at Brent’s apartment, not my childhood home. I’m no longer sixteen and helpless.

But you can’t help Joey…

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I head to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I’m not sleeping any more tonight. If I close my eyes again, I’ll be back on the sidewalk waiting for her but she’ll never come out. One of the boys that lived in the house will bring me the necklace and say she left. No one ever said what happened, whether she ran away, was taken away, nothing. The girl I loved and would have died for was taken from me and I never found out what happened to her.

The cold water chases away the last of the fog from the dream, letting the pain of her wash over me and settle in my gut. I searched her name for years, looking for any tidbit of information, but I never found anything.

With my phone in my hand, I settle on the couch and scroll until the sun comes up.

33

Joey

Since Matt is an asshole and made everyone’s life difficult, they kept him an extra day. Thankfully Mom worked a full twelve hours that day so I had the entire day to myself. I cleaned.

Now Matt has been home for all of twelve hours and I already want to murder him. He has crutches to get around but he refuses to use them, instead he just lies on the couch with his foot up on pillows and whines. He begs for more pain meds despite knowing I won’t give them to him.

In the bathroom, I’m washing my hands when there’s a crash from the kitchen. “What the fuck?”

Rushing out, I find Matt on the floor, holding the cast around his ankle, screaming in pain, and a dining chair on its side next to him.

“What are you doing?!” I grab the chair and slam it back where it belongs when what I want to do is wring my brother’s neck.

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