Damaged and the Beast (Damaged #1)

My mother’s side of the family was known as sullen drunks. Moody, broody, silent. We didn’t talk about ugly things. We swept them under the rug where they could fester. On my dad’s side, we were known as violent, yet incoherent drunks. We screamed about football teams or who voted for what crappy president. We never discussed ugly stuff even while screaming over the most minor infractions.

When Cousin Jesse got caught touching a little boy, we didn’t talk about it. When Cousin Jesse disappeared, we acted like he’d taken off for a job. We all knew the little boy’s family disappeared him, but there was no reason to hash out such ugliness.

When Cousin Pauline killed herself, we pretended she accidentally took too much pain medicine. Could happen to anyone. Nothing to see there. Move on.

When bad things happened like five years ago, no one talked about it. No therapy, no discussion, no hashing out the ugly. We ignored the problem and it went away. My dad took us away from our mom and ditched her in a shithole in Oklahoma because they just didn’t click anymore. Nothing more to the story.

I knew my mom was thinking about the ugly thing from five years ago, but she didn’t say anything and neither did I. Even if I wanted to shrug off the Smith/Jones ways, I wasn’t sharing with my mom. What the hell could she say anyway besides sorry? Then, she’d turn it around and claim I attacked her for merely mentioning how fucked up she had once been.

“Have a good night,” Amy muttered, no longer nervous.

After she left, I dug my phone out of my backpack. While Dad had given me a cell phone, my grandma was the one who put more minutes on the account. I hoped to make enough money soon so I could call Tawny all the time. For now, I was just happy to hear her voice.

Tawny answered on the second ring. Her voice was quiet and I suspected she was scared.

“Are you alright?” I asked immediately.

“Yes. I’m alone in a motel though. I’m not used to being alone.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“I don’t know.”

We said nothing for a few seconds then my sister spoke. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

What’s it like there?”

“It’s pretty. Lots of trees.”

“Is Mom’s apartment small?”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you have your own room?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it really small?”

Realizing what Tawny was asking, I said, “We can share a bed. Do you want to come here?”

“I don’t know. Dad says Mom can’t handle having you and me there. He says she doesn’t want a minor in the house.”

“I’ve got a job already. Once I have enough money, you can live with me.”

Tawny exhaled and I knew she was ready to cry. She and I had spent every day of her life together. When Mom and Dad had their drama, Tawny and I were together. When we didn’t know where the family would sleep at night or if we’d eat dinner, Tawny and I were together. When that ugly thing happened five years ago, Tawny and I were the only ones who knew how ugly it really was because we’d been together. Always together, but not anymore.

“Soon, Tawny,” I whispered, afraid to speak too loudly and jinx us. “I’ll save as much money as I can and get my own place. It’s pretty here and you’ll like it.”

“I miss you,” she said again.

“I miss you too.”

Silence lingered because without the ability to talk about the bad stuff, we really didn’t have anything to talk about. Dad was likely tense with keeping himself hidden. Since Tawny hated school and had dropped out at sixteen, she was around a lot for him to dump crap on. She couldn’t tell me about this though because talking about her loneliness and fear was ugly. Ugly meant silence, so we sat there for a while.

“We’re in the same time zone so maybe we can watch TV together?” I suggested.

“It’ll be expensive.”

“I’ll get a good phone plan and call you every night I’m not working.”

“I miss you,” she said, crying now. “I miss you.”

Long after we cried ourselves into silence and hung up, I thought about those three words. I imagined Tawny in a dump of a motel in the middle of nowhere. Scared and alone, she had no one to talk to or trust. Even though I was building something new in this place, nothing would be good until my sister was with me.





Chapter Three


The first day of classes was overwhelming. Though I tried making friends and people were nice, it was all superficial stuff. I noticed many of the students already knew each other. They had friends and didn’t really need new ones. Before I started feeling too left out, I remembered it was the first day.

The classes at New Hampton tended to be small with desks like in high school. The more popular classes were held in large rooms. My English Lit class was in one of those big halls and I had trouble getting comfortable with so many people whispering around me. Most of my classes were smaller though and I knew with time I would get used to the crowded ones too.