Page 8 of We Redeemed the Rain

Mama turned, threw him a forced smile. “Hey.”

Sloan kissed her on the cheek. His dark eyes flicked to mine—a warning.

He nodded to my shirt. “Something wrong?”

I shook my head.

Sloan turned to Mama. “What happened? I saw you looking at him.”

I said, “It’s nothing.”

A flash of indecision twisted Mama’s lips before she betrayed me. She lifted my shirt as I tried to walk away and said over her shoulder, to Sloan, “He said you did that?”

Sloan’s gaze met mine again—a glare.

His head tipped forward in disappointment. His voice was so soft, no one in their right mind would argue with him. He kissed the ridgeof her shoulder. “Oh, Janice, I’m so sorry. I told you this would happen.”

“Wow. Yeah, you called it.” She looked at me, hurt welling up in her eyes.

“Called what?” I scarcely recognized my voice.

“I told her a few days ago that as you become closer to manhood, you’re going to test your limits and see what you can get away with. That you’d go to any lengths to defy authority, specifically mine. Very typical behavior for boys. This proves it.”

Mama’s jaw clenched in anger.

“Want me to handle it, angel?” He swiped hair off her forehead.

She gave a weak, pathetic nod. Like Sloan was Prince Charming saving her from a dragon. “Probably best you do.”

Sloan plucked her mug off the counter and gently put it in her hands. “Go rest. I got this.”

Mama left the room, tossing me a withering glance.

He’d caught me—seconds away from spilling our secret.

Punishment included a searing smack on each cheek and the entire evening and night jammed into the bottom of our coat closet. I couldn’t stretch my legs or hardly even turn around.

I had to listen to the three of them eat dinner at the dining room table, watch the football game, drink, and havesex—Sloan and Mama did it on the couch that night. Acted like they forgot I was in there. Like I didn’t even freaking exist. But when the house was silent, I wished for the noise. Because the one thought going through my head over and over was making me physically ill.

I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing.

The repeated thought filled the silence in my brain until I was deaf to it—desensitized to the sting.

When Mama had the choice to believe me, she didn’t. She chosehim.

The sexual abuse I endured in my childhood home was one thing.

Being trapped. Another.

Being betrayed. Another.

Being slapped. Another.

Being abandoned in the dark. Another.

So many anothers.

Later, I met Miss Simone and she taught me that all people are born with a love doorway in their hearts. Naturally, it’s open. Love is given and received, a welcome part of life from the very first breath. But then…sometimes stuff happens.

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