Page 16 of Wolf

At first, all I see is daddy staring at the floor with the whip in his hands, but the couch blocks my view until I step to the side.

The picture of Jesus hanging over the mantel mocks me, and I can’t contain my gasp as Daddy shouts, “Do you hear me?”

No one notices my presence while Daddy rages at Miriam lying on the floor. She’s clutching her stomach and my belly cramps at the sight of her ashen face.

Tears roll down her cheeks but she’s silent. I can’t let this happen. Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know that she’s pregnant?

Turning to Mama, I stumble in her direction, hoping she’ll intervene which is foolish because she’s standing back with her arms crossed and a weird smile on her face.

Daddy raises the whip again and I step forward, my knees shaking violently as I sob, “Stop. Please.”

Daddy looks up, his dark eyes black, and says, “Go back to your room.”

“Daddy,” I plead but he turns back to Miriam, raising his foot.

“No,” I scream, rushing forward but Mama catches my arm and pulls me back.

Wrenching on her hand, I cry out when Daddy kicks Miriam, only to collapse when Mama slaps me across the face.

With wide eyes, I look up at her, clutching my throbbing cheek. Her feral gaze makes me shrink, but when Miriam cries out, I drop to my knees and crawl toward her.

Daddy believes in corporal punishment, but we’ve never been beaten like this, never like this.

Miriam flinches, curling inward as Daddy raises the whip and strikes her, his eyes wild. “You little whore. You think you can bring shame to my family?”

Shaking my head, I reach out my hand, but Mama grabs my hair and pulls me back.

“Please,” I sob as he brings that damn whip down on her head and shoulders three more times. Finally, he steps back and spits, “Get out of my house and don’t come back.”

It’s achingly quiet as he walks from the room. Mama follows and dazed, I stare at my sister until she whimpers, and I snap out of it, crawling to her.

“Miriam?”

She shudders and I move my hand over her body but I’m afraid to touch her, to hurt her more.

“Miriam? What can I do?”

“Leave.”

“What?” I say, dropping my hand.

“Help me leave,” she says, raising her tear-swollen eyes to mine.

Nodding, I wrap my arms around her waist and help her to stand, tears filling my eyes when she trembles in my hold.

What has he done? Why?

When I go to lead her toward our room, she shakes her head and rasps, “No.”

“But—“

“You heard him. I’m going.”

Where? My heart aches at the thought that she’s leaving us but now is not the time for selfishness. Miriam is hurting and if I can help her get somewhere safe, that’s what I have to do.

I’ll worry about what this means for the rest of us later.

“Okay,” I say shakily, leading her to the side door, where it takes me three tries to unlatch the lock because my hands are trembling so violently.

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