Page 8 of Broken Skulls

Until my dad’s final blow stole it from her.

I glance across the yard, staring at the crusher. Someday he’s going to show up at my door. I know it. When he does, that will be where he meets his end. I’ve pictured it no less than a million times.

I let my eyes fall closed, envisioning my mom spinning around our living room. The record player turning in time with her. Her colorful skirt billowing around her ankles.

“Dance with me, Jacob,” she said, reaching for me.

It was our first night in our new home, and we’d just got done eating in the backyard under the big oak tree. It was the best tree climbing, and it even had an old tree house. It needed a little work, but I was excited to make it mine. The house itself wasn’t much better, but my mother had already begun filling it with the thrifted items she’d been squirreling away for our big move.

Nothing matched in the house. From the silverware, to the towels, down to the curtains. In short, it was Heaven. That day was the best day of my life.

It hits me that I might be using the woman in my basement as a distraction. I’ve been feeling … I don’t know. Sad. Anxious. It all started when Petey and Katie brought those two orphaned girls home. It’s a blessing that they’re as little as they are. I hope they won’t remember watching their father kill their mother.

I scratch the dirt with a stick, writing Lizzie’s name and then my own. My mother was the last person to call me by my real name. After that I made everyone call me JD. Everyone in the club thinks it’s short for Junkyard Dog.

“Jacob Dean, shut that flashlight off and get to bed.”

She only used my first and middle name together when she was scolding me.

“Just one more chapter? Please, Mom?”

“One more and then get to sleep. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

When I heard her snoring in the middle of the chapter, I silently cheered because I had outlasted her and would be able to get away with reading well into the night. Sure, I knew the morning was going to suck, but it would be worth it for a few more chapters.

Little did I know then, I wouldn’t sleep for weeks.

The music I have playing for Lizzie stops, my memories pausing with it. I glance back at the house. Maybe she and I could swap secrets.

Would she confess to me?

Chapter Six

Lizzie

The music stops.

I lie in silence trying to process what I’m feeling.

It’s … it’s …

I bolt upright, my heart racing as I clutch my hands to my chest. Oh god, I can’t breathe.

“What’d you think of that one?” the voice calls out.

“I can’t breathe,” I pant, stumbling to the floor and over to the little box on the wall.

He’s quiet for a minute. “Are you sick?” he asks.

“Panic attack,” I manage to grit out.

“Did the music trigger you?”

My hand traces the frame of the box, kneeling in front of it … my own little confessional.

“I … I liked the music a lot,” I admit shamefully.

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