by E. L. Todd
She walked to the parking lot and saw all her friends gathered around.
“Hey,” Henry said with a smile. “The day is finally over! We get a four day weekend.”
“Yeah,” she said sadly.
“What are you doing for turkey day?” he asked.
“Well, my family is coming over.”
“From the mainland?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, cool.”
She nodded.
He saw the despair in her eyes. “Is that why you’ve been sad for the past few days?”
Henry knew her just as well as Coen did. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Coen will take care of me.”
“Okay. You are always welcome with me and my family if you want to spend Thanksgiving with us.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Henry. But I’ll be okay.”
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. It had been so long since they touched each other that it felt different. His touch actually felt friendly, not lustful. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. If she just focused on all the beautiful things she found in her life, she would be okay. She made a life for herself on her own. The evil and horrific things that happened to her shouldn’t destroy her.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He rested his head on hers. “I love you too.”
Coen was nearby but he didn’t interfere with their moment. The affection didn’t bother him either. Henry wouldn’t try to steal her away, and even if he tried, he would be unsuccessful because Sydney only loved him.
“I’ll save you some of my mom’s apple pie,” he said into her ear.
“I love her pies.”
“She said she’ll make one just for you this year.”
“She did?”
“I’ll send it over as soon as the holiday is over.”
“I’m going to get fat.”
“I’m sure Coen will enjoy it anyway.”
She smiled then pulled away.
Coen came over and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Ready to go home, baby?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. She hugged Nancy and Laura before they drove home to the shack on the dirt road.
“Where are they going to stay?” he asked.
“In the living room or the entryway.”
“You aren’t giving them your bedroom, right?”
“No,” she said firmly.
“Good.”
They went to the store and bought all the groceries they needed to cook Thanksgiving dinner. They prepped most of it so they wouldn’t have to worry about it on Thanksgiving . Coen helped make the turkey and the stuffing. When everything was finished, they were both tired.
Sydney took off her apron. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You don’t need to thank me, seahorse.”
They moved to the couch then lay under a blanket, watching television. She curled up next to him and thought about all the training she went through. She never actually expected to use it. It just made her feel better, helped her sleep at night, but now she might need to.
When it became late, Coen picked her up and carried her into her bedroom, tucking her in before he lay down beside her.
The movement woke her up. “I’m not scared.”
He stared at her. “You shouldn’t be.”
“And not because you’re going to be there.”
“I know. You got this, Sydney.”
“I do.”
13
In the middle of the night, Sydney opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Long shadows stretched across the walls, making them look like stretching hands. She glanced at Coen, sleeping peacefully beside her. His chest rose and fell with the steady cadence of his lungs. In sleep, his mouth was relaxed and his lips were pressed together in a tight line. The grooves of his lips reminded her of the desert landscape, the trail of a slithering snake. Ever since they started dating, his lips started to dry and crack from their excessive kissing. Eventually, he got his own ChapStick and had it in the pocket of his jeans.
She crawled out of bed without disturbing him. The blankets were ruffled around his waist, exposing his hard chest. She kissed the skin over his heart before she dressed herself and left out the front door, closing it quietly behind her.
The waves pounded against the shore as the moon shined overhead. It was a beacon of light, showing her the mounds in the sand and the bramble from nearby trees. She sat on the beach and tucked her toes under the sand, feeling the grains lodge in the crevasses of her feet. She always had sand everywhere, her hair, her eyelashes, and underneath her nails. Now the dirt didn’t bother her. When she was clean, she felt awkward.
Coen always made her feel safe and sound, but he couldn’t solve all her problems. She knew he would take a bullet to the chest, a knife in the back just to spare her any pain, but she needed to deal with this on her own. This was her issue and it needed to be resolved.
Sydney was always willing to grant forgiveness to anyone, whether they asked for it or not, but she didn’t think that was possible in regards to her family. When she remembered everything she suffered through, her heart hardened. Everything came back to her in a flash, blinding her eyes and dominating her mind.
“Why are you late?” Dan asked.
She stopped on the doorstep, tightening her hold on her backpack. She tried out for the swim team just so she could be at school longer. She didn’t like being wet, but it was the better alternative. “I’m on the swim team. I already said that.”
He squeezed the empty beer can then tossed it on the floor. It was only five in the afternoon, but he was already drunk. “And I forbade you from doing that.”
She said nothing. They didn’t have to pick her up or drop her off. And when she was home, they ignored her anyway. There was no reason why she couldn’t play sports. “But I like it,” she whispered.
He glared at her, his shoulders tensing. “Your father said no.”
She stepped back. Every time he said this, her response was always the same. She knew she should bite her tongue but she couldn’t. She believed in it too much to let it go. “You’re not my father.”
“What did you say?” He held up his hand, threatening to slap her across the face.
Her mother emerged from the kitchen, drying a plate in her hands. “What’s going on?”
“Your daughter is being a bitch—like usual,” he said, his eyes still glued to Sydney’s. “Now what did you say?”
Sydney glanced at her mother, silently asking for help. When she said nothing, her face completely stoic, Sydney knew she was on her own.
“I asked you a question!” he said, his hand still raised.
She took a deep breath, preparing for the collision against her face. It would turn the skin red, burning like hot wax. Her stepfather never did any extensive damage to her face, like giving her black eyes to get him in trouble. During the summer vacation, he wasn’t so selective. She kept her gaze to the floor. “You aren’t my father.”
His hand collided against her face with enough force to push her to the ground. She placed her hand over her cheek as she gasped, feeling the tears sting her eyes. He ripped her hand from her face then slapped her again. She yelped, unable to ignore the pain, and lay on the floor, absolutely still. Her mother walked back into the kitchen, not reacting in any way.
Dan grabbed her wrist and yanked her to her feet. He pressed his face against hers. “I will slap you as many times as it takes.” He pushed her back, making her stumble down the hallway. She got to her feet and bolted to her room, closing it behind her. Her tears blurred her vision as they fell, burning her eyes. She sat at the edge of her bed and stared at the mirror of her closet. Her face became even redder with obvious despair. She was miserable there, unable to escape. Instead of eating dinner with her family, she decided to hide in her room. She would rather starve than sit at the table with the people she hated most.
“Dinner’s ready,” her mom said as she knocked on the door.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
“Do you want me to tell Dan that?” Her threat hung in the air.
She wiped her tears away. “I’m coming.”
“Good girl.”
She clenched her fists before leaving her room. She hated being treated like a dog. She walked into the hallway and sat at the dinner table. Johnny, her infuriating stepbrother, sat next to her. Dan never yelled at his own son, treating him like a cherished child. Even her mom was sweet to him.
His hand moved under the table and rested on Sydney’s thigh. She pushed it away then crossed her legs. His hand returned with a gentle squeeze. She eyed the knife on the table, considering whether she should pick it up and stab him through the eye, but resisted her bloodlust.
“How was school?” her mother asked.
“Good,” Johnny said, inching his hand closer to the apex of her thighs.
Sydney said nothing. Neither of them cared anyway. She didn’t understand why they didn’t just kill her. They obviously hated her. She would prefer to be buried six feet under than live in that hell.
Sydney picked at her food, but didn’t eat anything. She was too depressed to have an appetite. She was thin and sickly but didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t given a sack lunch or money to buy food in the cafeteria. And when she looked at the disgusting look on her stepfather’s face, her stomach hurt too much to eat a single bite.
“Eat,” he said before he drank from his beer.
She knew his command was for her. Everyone else was eating. Obediently, she shoved the food into her mouth.
“Good girl.”
She clenched her jaw.
Johnny’s hand moved further up her leg.
She inhaled her food then stood up from the table, about to retreat to her room.
“You aren’t dismissed.”
“Fuck you,” she snapped.
He stood up, his arms shaking. “How dare you say that to your father!”
“Go to hell,” she said without turning around.
Dan chased after her while Johnny grinned from ear to ear. Her mother didn’t stop eating her dinner, acting like the entire situation was normal. He grabbed the bat leaning against the refrigerator. She heard him swing it in his arms as he chased her. She sprinted to her room then shut the door behind her, her hands shaking and her heart accelerating. She moved her dresser in front of the door but she knew he would break through. The lock on her bedroom had been disabled years ago.
He shoved his entire body into the door until the dressed tipped over, sending everything on top to the wooden ground. Her jewelry, pictures, hair bands, and pencils rolled onto the floor. Glass was shattered. The door was pushed open and he finally made it inside. He spun the bat around his wrist while he stared her down.
She moved against the wall and slid to the floor, knowing there was nowhere she could run or hide. He would beat her like he always did, and she would cry to herself, knowing she deserved the pain. She was responsible for her father’s death so she deserved to be beaten. If she hadn’t run away, none of this would be happening. It was that moment when her spirit broke. Never again would she defy him or stand up for what she believed in. If she did, he would kill her.
When the memory left her mind, the sight of the ocean waves caught her attention. They rose up the beach and started to inch closer to her toes, the tide increasing. The wind still ruffled her hair. There was no way to determine how much time had passed. Her memory seemed to last for a short minute, but the moon in the sky had moved, veering farther to the left.
She wrapped her arms around herself because she felt cold, frozen. Her greatest enemies were returning to her. This time, they were coming into the shack that she had made into a home. Her most beautiful moments of life were made on this beach and in that house. She had friends who loved her, a boyfriend who would die for her. It was almost a desecration to the holy land to let them even step on the grounds.
The past wouldn’t repeat itself in this new life. If her stepfather made a move against her, she would retaliate, verbally and physically. Everything was different. She was different. For the first time, she wanted him to hit her. She smiled in the darkness, only the ocean acting as her witness. The storm had come but she would was breaking through the waves. She looked forward to tomorrow. It couldn’t come soon enough.
14
When the knock sounded on the door, Sydney flinched in her seat on the couch. Coen stood up and they both walked to the door. Before they reached for the handle, Coen grabbed her shoulders and turned her body to face him.
“They can’t hurt you, Syd.”
“I know.”
He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll be here the entire time. Please don’t be scared.”
She grabbed her engagement ring to pull it off. “I should return this so they don’t get the wrong impression.”
He steadied her hand. “Keep it. Tell them we are engaged and we live together. That will explain why I’m here all the time.”
She left the ring on her finger. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “Absolutely.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath and turned toward the door. When she placed her hand on the handle, it stayed there for a long time, not moving. After her resolve flooded through her body, she found the strength to turn it.
Her mother’s face was the first thing she saw. She had the same sandy-brown hair that Sydney had and even the same forest green eyes. Her body wasn’t what it used to be. She had gained significant weight, making her at least eighty pounds heavier. Since she was so short, it made her look rounder. She smiled at her daughter. Her teeth were stained yellow from liquor and cigarettes.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” her mother said as she extended her arms, wrapping them around Sydney.
Sydney stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to respond. She couldn’t remember the last time she embraced her mother. She wasn’t expecting the affection but gave her a hug anyway. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Her mother pulled away. “Still plump like usual.”
Sydney opened her mouth to speak, but Coen spoke first. “And absolutely gorgeous,” he said, hooking his arm around her waist.
Her mother looked at him. “And who is this?”
Sydney smiled at him then looked at her mother. “My boy—fiancé.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “You’re engaged?”
“Yeah,” Sydney said with a smile. It was all an act but the idea made her happy anyway.
Coen extended his hand. “I’m Coen. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Morris.”
“Call me Denise,” she said quickly.
He nodded. “Denise it is.”
She stared at him for a long time, practically gawking at him. “And you want to marry my daughter?” The disbelief in her voice was evident. Sydney knew she shouldn’t let it bother her but it did. She always felt like she wasn’t good enough for Coen, that he was too good-looking for her. His inner beauty triumphed over hers as well. She never met someone so selfless and loyal.
Coen’s hand gripped her side but his voice didn’t betray his annoyance. “I can’t believe it either. I wasn’t sure why she picked me of all people. She could have whoever she wanted.”
Her mother nodded, but said nothing. She stepped aside and let Johnny enter the room. He smiled at Sydney and his eyes trailed across her body, taking in her curves, especially the roundness of her breasts. When he used to harass her, he was always obsessed with her tits. They were even bigger since the last time he saw her. Sydney felt the lust boil from his skin as he gawked at her. He was bigger and taller than she remembered him. He was a year older than her and he never let that fact leave her knowledge.
“Hey,” he said with a smile.
Coen extended his hand, a look of murder on his face. “Sydney’s fi
ancé.” He didn’t say his name, just his title. Johnny’s eyes flashed surprise for just a moment but then it disappeared, hiding under the surface. He didn’t shake Coen’s hand for a long time. Even though Coen promised he wouldn’t be angry at her family or hit them, she was surprised he kept his word. After watching the tension in Coen’s shoulders, she knew this was difficult for him, shaking the hand of his girlfriend’s tormentor.
Johnny finally reached out and shook it, meeting Coen’s gaze. His blond hair was short and spiked, revealing his blue eyes. There was vile and poison inside of him. He was psychotic. Just by looking at him, Sydney knew how twisted and evil he was. She hoped he had changed in two years, growing into a man that was trusted and respected. Obviously, she had been wrong. He still saw her as beneath him, someone he could take advantage of. When he saw her cry, he just smiled wider, even laughed. Sydney felt the emotions return to her but she forced them back to the pit of her stomach, hidden from everyone in the room.
When Coen pulled his hand away, he nodded to Johnny but there was no kindness in his look. His lips were pressed tightly together, like he wanted to stop himself from screaming every possibly profanity at him. Sydney knew Coen would kill him if he could get away with it. A part of her wished that was possible, that Johnny would die and be buried in a ditch somewhere, never to be seen again.
Johnny carried his bags into the house then deposited them on the floor. Sydney took a deep breath when she waited for the third member of her family to walk inside. She wasn’t sure who she hated more, him or her stepbrother. It was a tie.
“Howdy,” Dan said as he walked through the door, a large bag over one shoulder and another in the other hand. He stopped in front of Sydney and looked down at her. He didn’t reach to embrace her and neither did she. The only time their skin touched was when he was slapping her across the face. Even in the spirit of the holiday, she couldn’t force herself to be kind to him. All she could manage to do was speak.
