Page 43 of Forbidden Lessons

Age: 5

Act: boy pushes me into mud puddle

Intent: a joke / emb shame

Impact: scraped hands and knees. clothes full of mud. dad was mad at me. cried.

My hand is shaking, but I keep going.

Interpretation: it wasn’t funny it hurt and got me into trouble + he knew it would because he did it a lot

CRUEL

I blow out a breath.

Fuck, that felt good, especially scrawling that last word. I go over it again, trying to make it neater and less serial-killery.

Age: 7

Act: boy ties me to tree

Intent: playing pretend / punishment

Impact: rope left marks. was scared he would leave me like that. cried. yelled until throat was sore.

Interpretation: he was mad at me because I laughed at him and this was his punishment two days later - he loved playing the long game

CRUEL!

On and on I go, my pen silent as I dredge up memories I didn’t realize I’d buried so deep.

I run out of steam and pause, pushing the pen in and out of its lid where I still have it trapped between my teeth. I stop when I miss my mark and stab myself in the mouth.

“Fuck.” I swipe at my lips and turn to a new page. I’ve already filled six pages. I run my hand down the clean page, stalling for a long moment before putting pen to paper again.

Age: 4

Act: dad locks me?—

There’s a rap on my car window. “Miss Lee?”

“Fuck!” I yelp, spinning to face the window. I swear I can feel the color draining from my face as I spot Professor Rooke standing outside my car.

Of course.

Because Haven’s an idiot, and gets so lost bitterly rehashing the past that she forgets she’s a sitting duck. I reluctantly roll down the window, wincing when it squeaks loudly.

“Hi,” I mutter, squinting up at Professor Rooke.

He leans in, laying his arm on the top of my car. Thank God he’s on this side—there are still streaks of apple pie on the passenger door. The faint creases at the corner of his eyes deepen as he narrows them.

“We’re both going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”

I drop my gaze. “Oh, yeah, um…”

“I see you’ve made some progress on your journal.”

My eyes flit back to him. He’s staring at the open book in my lap. I hurriedly snap it shut, and then slip it into my tote.

---