Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“And then?”
I shrugged, stripping away the layers and looking at myself from the outside. “And then nothing. I grew up, and I raised myself.” My throat tightened. “The woman, whoever she was, eventually stopped coming around. I don’t know if she was hired to take care of the house or if she was a girlfriend, but she went away and another woman came who I know was hired to clean the place. She came every morning in the summers. Cleaned the house. Cooked meals.”
“Now, you little sweetheart, Mr. Connors told me not to worry about you, that you can make your own meals, but that’s not right,” she’d told me once. “You’re the sweetest little thing, and you never say a word, but you deserve better. Here.”
She’d shoved food into my hands and wrapped her arms around me. The memory brought tears to my eyes, and I blinked them away. “Mrs. Calinther. She made me food sometimes. I think she made it at her house and brought it for me, so my father never suspected she was using his groceries to feed me.”
“What?” Kashvi’s eyes were wide.
“It’s confusing.” I shook my head, trying to decipher everything. “He was fine with me rummaging through the cupboards when I was little, but when I was ten or eleven and could make my own meals, suddenly she couldn’t make enough food for me? I didn’t understand it. I still don’t. He never yelled at me, but there were times he caught me leaving the kitchen with food, and he stormed off in a huff. Then Daniel would come in and yell at me. God, Daniel hated me. He loathed me.”
“Was there other abuse?”
I shook my head, aching. “No, nothing like that.”
“Verbal abuse?” Tyler asked.
I looked over at him, shocked to see tears in his eyes. He asked again, “Verbal abuse?”
“You stupid little bitch. Such a waste of space. You’re lucky to have a room in this house. I swear to God, Dad needs to just toss you out with the trash.”
“Yeah,” I managed. “Daniel was verbally and emotionally abusive.”
“And Dane?” Kashvi asked, gently.
The silence. I remember it as clear as day, as if I was back in that household. I shook my head, another piece of me splintering off. I didn’t want to feel any of this. “Dane was like my dad. He ignored me. Daniel was the only one who talked to me, and when he did, he clearly hated that he had to be the one dealing with me. He told me so every time.”
I swallowed a knot in my throat. Get this done. “I went to the same school as they did, but by the time junior high came around, I could bike everywhere. I got a job that paid me under the counter. I used that money to get by, and then as I got older, I got better jobs. Made more money. I kept all my checks until I was old enough to open a bank account. Thank goodness they didn’t do direct deposit back then, or I don’t think I’d have kept any of my money. Got my own car as soon as I could—paid cash for it. It wasn’t anything great, but good enough to get me from one place to another. A neighbor down the road must’ve had an inkling what was happening, because she took me to get my driver’s license. My dad relayed through Daniel that if the school ever needed him to sign anything, I could just forge his name.”
I shook my head. “The message was loud and clear. My dad wanted nothing to do with me. I didn’t exist to him, and that’s how I grew up. As a burden to them. When I turned eighteen, they expected me to leave. And that’s what I did.” It still hurt. All of it. “I put myself through community college, and then I used scholarships to finish my four-year degree. It took me longer, but I worked my way into this field. I’ve not seen my brothers since I turned eighteen, and even the morning I left, they were eating breakfast when I came downstairs with my bags. My dad was there too. All three of them looked up, but only Daniel reacted. He said, ‘Good riddance.’ That was the last time I saw Daniel and my father in person. I saw Dane at the game last week. I haven’t paid attention to their careers or followed them on social media, but they’re franchise darlings, so I can’t miss some things.”
“What about hockey?” Tyler asked.
“What about it?”
“You have a nasty slap shot. Did you play?”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “No. But if Daniel and Dane had to go to the rink for something hockey-related, I was expected to go with them. Carry their bags. Clean up the ice after them. If they needed a goalie, I suited up and played the position.”