Page 96 of Wolf

The closer I get, the more I see, and rage circles my spine. She’s shackled to the wall, her dark hair matted with dirt and grime, so much so, that I think for a moment it’s not my sister until she turns her face.

Her eyes are swollen closed. She’s been brutally beaten, and I work my throat before dropping to my knees. “Rose?” I whisper.

She flinches, cowering against the wall before her hands spasm around the chains she’s gripping tightly and she croaks, “Wolf?”

“That’s right, Rosie. It’s me,” I rasp, and her mouth opens on a silent cry as tears fill her painfully bruised eyes.

“Wolf…” she sobs, and I touch her hair.

“Sh,” I say through the lump in my throat. We found my sister, thank fuck but not before she suffered shit that I can’t even begin to imagine.

Bowing my head, I try to form the words to soothe her but, in the end, all I can say is, “I’m sorry.”

Chapter 28

Lilli

It’s a blur after that. I go to school and come home, existing in a weird haze of numbness. By Sunday morning, I’ve retreated so far into myself that I barely notice when Mercy comes in and sits on my bed.

I’ve just finished pulling my hair back into a bun and I turn around when she says, “Are you okay, Lil?”

My heart thumps but I push that shit back into a box and nod. “I’m fine, Mercy Lou Lou. Ready?”

She eyes me doubtfully, but nods and I turn toward the door as she says, “Are you staying this time?”

Pausing at the door, I look back at her heart shaped face. Her brilliant red hair is pulled back in a series of braids. She blinks her piercing blue eyes, and I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I-I don’t know. I think so,” I say, and she cocks her head.

“It’s dark where you are Lil, I don’t like it.”

Crossing to her, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “I’m okay Mercy. I promise.”

She shakes her head and pulls away. At the door, she says softly, “You’re not okay.”

With that she heads toward the living room while I follow, joining Rachel where she stands, biting her nails.

As soon as Mama appears, Rachel drops her hand, hiding her fingers behind her back and we stand like cattle in an auction while Mama critiques our clothes and hair.

“Mercy, hat,” she says and Mercy leaves to retrieve it.

Seemingly satisfied with my outfit, she turns to Rachel and frowns, “No cake. You’re too damn chubby as it is.”

I clench my hand between the folds of my skirt and avert my gaze. What Mama fails to understand is that Rachel isn’t overweight. She’s growing into a woman with curves. If you ask me, she’s beautiful, but Mama doesn’t care about biology.

Once Mercy reappears, we head for the car where Daddy is waiting. Mama drones on in the front while the soft sound of Christian music acts as her backup.

We’re quiet in the backseat and I stare out the window as we drive. Mercy’s words pinball around my brain. The first time Mercy mentioned a “feeling” Mama ignored it. At the time it seemed like something a silly child would say.

The second time, Mama tried to talk her out of it and when that didn’t work, she beat her. I don’t know what it means but I suspect at her age, Mercy sees things clearer than the rest of us, blinded by emotions that won’t hit her for a few more years, yet.

In any case, after Mama beat it out of her, Mercy’s night terrors began. Whatever these feelings were, ignoring them only made it worse.

When we roll up to the church, I mentally sigh. I almost think a beating is better than sitting through a sermon because every word that Daddy says is a lie he’s feeding his flock.

We do our normal meet and greet at the door before I sit beside Mama with Rachel next and Mercy at the end. With Miriam in mind, I put a little extra space between Mama and me and silently pray that she’s safe and her pregnancy going well.

I miss her laugh and the way she always managed to make times like these bearable. I suppose in her absence that should be me and with a pang of guilt, I glance at Rachel and Mercy. When Rachel meets my gaze, I muster a weak smile.

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