Standing up for myself.
I was done being taunted with. There was nothing I could do to avoid what would happen, but I could say something that would hopefully haunt them when they were older and wiser and less cocky and cruel. “Want to know why it won’t make a difference?” I bared my teeth. “It’s because I’ve known people like you. I’ve lived with people like you. I was sold to people like you. Every day, I was played with, and every day, I learned to fall less and less for his tricks. Unlike you, I never hurt another person until yesterday when I walked away from the one man I’ve ever loved. So perhaps this is punishment for hurting him, and I’ll accept it because what I did was wrong. I take full responsibility for that and for stealing. But I also know that even if I could somehow convince you of how sincere I am...I’m still going to end up bleeding.”
I tensed and glowered at Miranda. “So tell your little lap dog there to do his worst. He won’t break me. No one can break me even though plenty have tried.”
Silence fell in the alley.
Tears filled Simone’s eyes. “Oh, wow. You were sold?” She reached for my hands, but I flinched backward out of habit. She stilled, dropping her head. “I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t stomach her understanding even after I’d wronged her. I opened my mouth to assure her I wasn’t after her sympathy. I just had to stand up for myself for the first time in my life, but the cackle of disbelief from Miranda and Harold rang in my ears so familiar.
I was used to such a response.
I was used to being ridiculed and abused.
“Seriously, Simone!” Miranda giggled. “You believe that shit? What a little liar.”
Simone lashed out and grabbed my hand. With a burst of surprising strength, she pulled me unwillingly to my aching feet. My ankles screamed from being sat on for so long, my knees indented and red from dirty gravel.
Tugging me toward her evil friend, she clutched my fingers tight. “I do believe her, and I’m going to help her. I’m taking her to see my daddy right now. He’ll know what to do.”
I stumbled from shock at how such a wondrous creature could be friends with such a monster as Miranda. Was she just na?ve to the wily ways of maliciousness, or did she think she could change Miranda by drowning her in goodness?
Either way, I was at both their mercies as Simone brought me to stand in front of her friend. “I’m leaving with her.” Looking at me, Simone ordered, “Say you’re sorry, and then we can be done with this.”
I lowered my eyes to the baby blue loafers of Harold and the sparkly silver sandals of Miranda. It physically pained me to talk to such beasts, but I did it for Simone, not them.
If she believed they’d stop, then perhaps I would trust her judgement over mine. I might be clouded from past experiences. I would take that first step into normalcy and treat each occurrence as separate not joined.
I tilted my chin and spoke with a bravery I didn’t own. “I’m sorry for taking what wasn’t mine. Rest assured, I’ll never—”
Miranda’s palm connected with a short sharp, slap on my cheek. “You’re right, you’ll never steal again ‘cause you’re going to remember this lesson for a lifetime, bitch!”
Heat instantly bloomed, dousing me in quick-fire pain.
I stumbled backward.
Simone cried out.
I shut down.
Pain...my old friend.
I focused on it, welcomed it. I knew it. I was it. I knew nothing else because of it.
“Miranda, wait!” Simone’s voice sounded as if she was underwater as her fingers were ripped from mine and I was shoved heinously against the wall.
“Ready to enjoy that lesson?” Harold’s face appeared, slamming my skull into the brick behind me, his breath a sour mix of alcohol and seafood.
I looked over his shoulder to a crying, begging Simone; a laughing, pleased Miranda; and the other two girls who looked petrified at how suddenly this had escalated.
They all gasped as Harold’s fist connected with my belly.
Not me.
I doubled over silently.
Not one gasp.
Not one grunt.
Mute.
Like I’d always been.
Simone screamed, Miranda cheered, and the blonde girl spun around and charged out of the alley.
I couldn’t blame her. Being beaten was an awful task to endure. Watching it be done with no power to stop it might even be worse.
Simone should run, too. This would scar her for life. It would ruin her goodness. It would change her too much.
Go.
After all, unlike my previous broken bones and ill healed injuries, I did deserve this. No one had told me to steal their wallets; I’d done that all on my own.
Harold’s fist connected once again with my stomach. This time to the side where my appendix lived. I buckled in his hold, slithering down the wall where his leg cocked back, and his foot buried itself in my ribcage.
The pain wasn’t really describable.
I’d lived with it for so long; it was like trying to describe how I breathed or pumped blood through my veins. It was a part of me and happened without conscious thought.
I huddled up, protecting my head and drawing my legs up, locking everything else out.
I no longer heard Simone screaming. I didn’t listen to Miranda’s goading or Harold’s stream of ‘Take that, bitch. Does that feel good?’
It was silent inside and out.
My thoughts drifted to Elder. Where was he right now? Had he kept my letter? Had I hurt him all over again by telling him how I felt only to run because I didn’t want to be the one to break him further?
Another kick, this one winding me until my lips parted like an ocean creature turfed from the sea.
Time lost all meaning.
Another fist landed on top of my arms as they cradled my head. My spine scraped against the wall as Harold kicked me hard enough to send me scooting forward from the blow.
Knuckles kissed my cheek, sending instant pressure into a very familiar black eye.
I wondered briefly how long he would abuse me and how ruthless he would become the more he warmed to his task.
Another strike, this time somewhere on my leg. The agony-blossom seeped instantly into my bones; a tuning fork settling fire to old injuries like a door knock to a new friend.
I didn’t try to get up.
I hadn’t learned how to run while being beaten.
All my instincts said to shut up, lock down, curl tight.
Another kick.
A gob of spit on my arm.
And then a new noise. Something that didn’t belong.
“Stop!” the shout vaguely rippled its way into my consciousness.
“Hey!” another shout, male and authoritative.
My heart reached out with eager arms. Imaginings of Elder arriving at the perfect time. My villainous knight with his dragon ink. Had he come? Did I dare let hope surface?
I tensed for another punishment, but the looming figure of Harold suddenly vanished. Removing his oppressive shadow left me with open skies. I dared peer up through the forest of legs.
Two things slammed into me.
One, gratefulness that someone had come to my rescue.
Two, utter wretchedness that it wasn’t Elder.