Page 7 of Fight for Me

“I thought you said you were back at your house. How did you get here so fast?”

“Um, I lied. I was already on my way over when I texted.” She cringes and lifts her shoulders in a shrug.

“Oh.”

“You’re not mad, are you? I was trying to help. The police should lock your father away for the whole eternity. I swear I would gladly cut his throat in his sleep,” Claire spits vengefully.

“Claire.” I sigh. “My father is the sheriff. It’s not so easy to get rid of him. They probably wouldn’t do anything because they are scared for their jobs. And I would happily watch you cut his throat, but I don’t think either of us would be good at disposing of a body.”

“What about your mom then? Can’t she leave him and take you away?”

“I don’t think she’s capable of that, to be honest. I used to dream about it and hoped so much for her to finally stand up and say that she’s had enough. It never happened,” I reply sadly.

“Oh,” Claire whispers with a broken expression as she hangs her head.

“Yeah. Oh.” I throw my arm around her. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“I had my suspicions for a while. But you were always so evasive and downright convincing that I thought maybe I was reading too much into things.” She tilts her head to look at me, with one single tear rolling down her sorrowful face. “I wish that was just one of the times when my mind plays tricks on me. But now that I know, we can think of something together.”

“Claire, you finding out doesn’t change anything. Today doesn’t change anything. This is just how things work in my house.”

My best friend removes herself from my embrace, looking thoroughly outraged. “How the fuck can you say that? We have to do something!”

“Like what?” I ask tiredly, feeling overwhelmed by her presence. In moments like this, I wish I were alone like before I met Claire. I wouldn’t have to explain anything or have someone stick their nose in things they don’t understand.

“I don’t fucking know yet! But things are going to change. You’ll see.”

“Okay, whatever.” I sigh and recline on the bed. “If that’s all... I’m exhausted and sore, Claire. Can we talk about it some other time?”

“Bitch,” Claire whispers and starts to undress.

I sit back up and look up at her, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Staying the night. Duh. Scoot over.” She waves her hand, and I move to make room for her in my narrow bed.

I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, Claire lies next to me and whispers, “Sleep, Jenny. We’ll talk tomorrow. Tonight I’m keeping an eye on you. You’re safe.”

I feel the oncoming tears, so before I start bawling like a baby in my best friend’s arms, I close my eyes and relax. She grabs my hand and squeezes it once.

With a sigh, I let the fatigue drag me under into nothingness.

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