Page 5 of Four Times Taken

"Who would you take to the prom?" She asks as our hands brush against each other. The reminder of how nice it was to hold it earlier tingled through me.

With an inhale, I reached for it before I could stop myself. "If I go to something as dumb as that, there's no one else I'd rather share it with than my best friend." I gripped her hand, pretending it's casual.

But as we turned to look at each other in silence, my beating heart drowned out the clapping ocean waves.

Lily

Twelve Years Ago

My mood dropped as I exited Eric's car and walked to my front door. He didn't drive off. He knew the drill. If things were too wild when I went inside, I'd walk right back out. We'd go over to his place to hang out until I could sneak back in through my bedroom window in the middle of the night.

So far, so... 'suspicious.' There's no screaming or shouting. It's already late at night, so my father should be home already. If he's not yelling, he must be in a good mood. My mother has been attempting to sober up the past couple of weeks. I don't know if I'm allowed to hope, but things might be looking up.

Opening the door, I turned on the living room light, and my hopes were dashed in an instant. The house was a mess; there were broken lamps and figurines. A new hole was added to the wall. There's no sign of my mother. Hurrying up the stairs, I burst her bedroom door open to find her sitting in front of her mirror in a full face of makeup to hide the bruises and a heroin needle in her arm.

My eyes filled with tears. I knew the fall was coming. I told her to call the cops on him, but she's afraid he'll kill her if she does. She still even claims to love him. I don't understand it. He makes me sick. Rushing forward, my legs shook. I'm unsure what to do as she smiles at me in the mirror.

"Lily." Her body swayed with each word she spoke. "You don't have a twenty, do you?"

And where am I supposed to get twenty dollars from? Isn't that her responsibility? My asshole father sometimes leaves money for me to go to school, but I'd much rather starve than take it. Right on cue, the front door banged open, and his voice traveled up the stairs.

"Look at the fucking state of this place? Lazy-ass bitch is at home all day and won't even clean up? Where the hell is Lily? Damn it. Why ain't there no food in here?" He slammed the kitchen cupboards.

With fire at my feet, I bolted downstairs. My chest was swelling with heat, on the verge of bursting.

"You made the mess, you clean it up!" I yelled.

He turned around, eyes pinning me to the wall. "What the fuck did you just say to me?" he whispered.

I swallowed, shifting on my feet toward the door. "You heard me. And while you're at it, why don't you cook your own food?" I tried to keep my voice from trembling.

The air grew dense as he advanced toward me. My eyes shifted toward the door and back to him. Usually, I don't answer back. I avoid him and think about all the ways I'd kill him. But Mom was trying, and he fucked it up, again. Like he always does. And I saw red.

He also looked at the door and back at me.

"So you're telling me I should work my ass off all day while your mother gets high and does nothing all damn day, plus come home and cook my own damn food?!" he screamed. "You ungrateful little bitch! You wouldn't be able to even go to school if it weren't for me."

Yeah, great. Try to make me feel guilty for doing your job. Nice try. Try to paint Mom as the useless one when you beat the living shit out of her so much she can barely stand straight most days. Blame her for taking drugs to cope with the pain and growing so addicted that pain meds led to other drugs. Real self-aware.

"Now, you're going to get your ass in that kitchen and make me some fucking food. I'll drag you by the hair and force you if I have to," he threatened.

"Over my dead body," I responded, rushing toward the door. I yanked it open, and he yanked me back by the hair. My breath left my body as he threw me to the ground. Behind him, Eric's shadow loomed in the doorway.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, huh?" he challenged my father, puffing his chest up. I couldn't bear the idea of my life infecting him, turning him into anything like my father.

"Eric. Leave it. Go back in the car," I said.

My sperm donor looked between the both of us. His wild eyes danced in amusement. "Oh, is this your little boyfriend?" My father stepped to Eric, but he didn't back away. "Why don't you stay out of this, eh kid? Best you leave this bitch alone, anyway. She ain't good for nothing. Can't cook, can't clean. Sometimes you gotta knock em in line, teach em to be obedient, you know what I'm saying?" he said, as if seeking some sort of camaraderie or 'male bonding' moment.

I was' sick to my stomach at the thought of Eric accessing some disgusting male code deep inside him that allowed him to connect with him.

"You think that makes you a man, you worthless coward?" Eric threatened.

I jumped to my feet, needing to get between the two of them. "Eric, please. Leave it."

"Stay out of this, bitch. I'll deal with you later." My father shoved me to the floor again.

Eric balled his fists up and pressed his lips together. "Please, Eric. Don't." I shook my head.

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