Always Summer

by Criss Copp

  ‘NO, NO, NO, NO....’ I plead silently, mouthing the words over and over. I hold up my hand instinctively.

  He howls a guttural noise and stops. I am too late to pull my hand back or simply lay it flat. He has seen it.

  “The main course has arrived... come here darlin’.” He says, pulling out of me and leaving me to fall forward onto the bed.

  He moves over to her bed, and begins to grapple under it.

  “Come on... I’ll be a bit more gentle with you honey.” He whispers fiercely.

  Can he be serious? He plans on doing this to her? My baby? My delight? No fucking way!

  The pain between my legs is extreme. I can only imagine what this would do to her if he managed to have her.

  Fuck the blood, fuck the pain and fuck my pants and panties. They’re gone; I rip them from my ankles and stumble off the bed and out of the room.

  Summer.

  He’s got my wrist, and despite telling me he’ll be gentle, he is yanking me to the edge of the bed and hurting my arm. At the edge of the bed, he picks up the edge of it and yanks me clean out from under it. I am at his feet. He drops the bed and pulls me up. He is tearing the front of my shirt open with one hand, holding my arms behind me with the other, and the buttons are popping off everywhere.

  Then, my hands are falling back to my sides, and warm, thick sticky fluid is splattering me. I can’t scream, since I am unsure what is happening, so I continue to stare. He is crumbling, right in front of me. Sal is behind him, panting wildly, our biggest knife from the kitchen in her hand, a wild look in her eyes and she is naked from the waist down. She has blood all over her... all over her.

  He is moving again. So she jumps on him, and begins to plunge the knife down in a stabbing motion. His throat is meaty and broken open. Blood is rising up through it. His chest is punctured everywhere, Sal is struggling to hold the knife this time as she plunges it into him again, so it clatters to the ground and her hand is sliced open.

  She is crying now... Sal never cries... but she is crying now. Big gut wrenching sobs. I go to her, and she tells me she is okay, but that I need to go to Mrs. Prince and have her call the cops, so I do.

  *

  “What’s with all the banging, and screaming, and wailing?” Mrs. Prince shouts from the other side of the door.

  “It’s me, Summer.” I shout.

  She wrenches open the door. I must look awful, because she swoons! She also nearly vomits.

  “I really need you to call the cops, Mrs. Prince, Sal is really badly hurt!” I tell her. She reaches out to grab my arm, but I dodge her. “I have to get back, she needs me.” I reason, before stumbling to the stairs and speeding my way up them, oblivious to her shouting behind me.

  *

  “They’re coming.” I say to Sal’s back. She is slumped on the floor, but she hasn’t otherwise moved. Her curly springy hair is matted with blood, so I smooth it away from her face.

  She isn’t speaking, just sobbing between great gasps of air. I struggle to hold her, she moves so violently, but I cannot let her go... I love her!

  Sally.

  Just don’t... don’t touch me... only she can touch me, so just fuck off!

  Summer.

  The police are here now... the paramedics too. They are trying to get me to stand away from Sally, and they are trying to touch her, but she is behaving all feral... she is actually snarling at them!

  A female police officer... um... maybe... she has a badge on her dressy pants like the cops have on their uniforms, but she isn’t dressed like a police officer. She is telling the other cops to leave, and they do. She is dragging a female paramedic in by the arm. I am watching them, and I am looking at them with what I hope is dangerous eyes. I want them to be careful, because right now, I am getting pretty sick of people trying to get my sister to stop feeling like she does... if they knew what happened, maybe they’d leave her alone and give her some space.

  “She can’t help it!” I shout at the lady officer.

  “We’re trying to help.” She says, “My name is Kerry.” She offers her hand and I look at it, but I don’t touch it.

  “Are you a cop?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’m a detective.” She says. She says it nicely, and she is pretty, not like Marjorie... and all of a sudden I’m wondering where Marjorie is.

  “Where is Marjorie?” Sal asks, muffled because her face is in her hands... she must be wondering too.

  “Marjorie?” the detective questions.

  A male cop is standing at the door warding off other people. He turns his head. “The female passed out in the living room, Detective Hunter.” He explains, before turning his face away again.

  Kerry looks at me, kindly. She watches as I pass my hands over Sal’s hair. Sal’s arm is now protectively wrapped around my waist as I kneel over her.

  “Is Marjorie your mother?” she asks.

  “Humph...” Sal releases a grunt, “she gave birth to us, but that’s it... she’s a whore!” Sal spits out her answer. And then she does spit, really spit... a huge gob of spit on the man whore, who I now know is dead, beside her.

  “This is her latest fuck buddy.” She sneers. I haven’t ever heard her speak like this before, although the word fuck isn’t new to me... Marjorie says it all the time.

  “Okay, I’m going to leave you two here for a minute, but I need to get you out of this room when I get back. If you can, please try to walk away yourself.” She says. She puts her blue gloved hands onto her knees and pushes up.

  Walking over to the female paramedic, she talks quietly to her. I’m scared she is talking meanly about Sal; I seriously don’t think she understands what has happened here, and where does she expect us to go? This is our room. They should be taking him away! I want to shout at them... I want them to understand... so I stand up abruptly to tell this Kerry what she needs to hear.

  “That guy hurt Sally...” I begin shouting, and pointing at him, “he pulled her pants down and hurt her... and she didn’t want to; and he made her bleed... a lot!” Sal was trying to pull me back down, but I was slippery and determined. The detective lady was looking at me with sadness. I still didn’t understand why she wouldn’t take him and leave us entirely alone, so I added (pulling my shirt open for emphasis), “and he was going to do it to me too, so Sally stopped him. You should leave now...” I say, beginning to settle back down, but instead standing up abruptly again to request, “But make sure you take that piece of shit with you, he isn’t allowed in our room.” I finish; Marjorie swears frequently.

  Sally sighs, a big defeated sigh. “Sit down chicken, and stop talking!” she croaks.

  “But I’m trying to help Sal... I love you!” I reason. She begins wailing all over again.

  Sally.

  The lady detective and paramedic are actually really nice. I don’t have to give a statement, not yet anyway; and they are going to let me take Summer with me to the hospital, she’s riding with me in the ambulance. The detective, Kerry, has told me that I don’t have to talk to Marjorie. I told her I don’t ever want to see her again. She had nodded. The stretcher is here. There are only girls in the room right now, apart from the asshole lying dead on the floor. I get on the stretcher, still naked from the waist down. They cover me with a sheet and strap me in. Summer is holding onto my hand, and even though we are going to go down stairs she has told them that she will not let go.

  Chapter 2

  Summer.

  We were really lucky with our foster care parents. I mean, everyone hears the bad stories about the foster care system. I knew kids were frequently separated, abused and neglected. But this wasn’t our experience. Max and Debbie were awesome! It helped that the social services chick was actually a friend of Debbie’s, and that she’d successfully convinced them to take us in.

  I didn’t see Sally for three months after that first night at the hospital. She had to have surgery, and although I stayed until she came out, so I could say good bye and tell her I loved her; I wasn
’t allowed to stay there. We kept in touch via telephone, while she recovered.

  Apart from Sally’s hospitalization, she needed lots of intense therapy.

  I was living with Max and Debbie for almost two and a half months before Sally finally joined us. Although it wasn’t all fun and games throughout that first year, Debbie and Max were determined people, and slowly we made it through.

  *

  I had recently completed the 8th grade at Northport Middle School, and summer break started two days ago. I was 14 on the 11th May, so of course, I knew everything!

  Sally, now 18, was already preparing for college, since she wanted to be a nurse. Her boyfriend Henry was also going to college. He wanted to be a radiologist; so obviously, they were both into the health sciences and all that. They were both going to be heading to Columbia University, which is a great school. Sally got a part scholarship, and she and Henry were going to be moving in together, although I didn’t know how they were affording to do that; but Sally’s smart, I was sure she had it all figured out. Max and Debbie had offered them both help too.

  Apparently, Sally and Henry were off to get some stupid blood tests today, to check on their immunity levels and so forth. It was important in their fields to have their immunizations up to date, in order to reduce the chances of getting infectious blood born diseases from other people... you know, hepatitis and stuff.

  Max and Debbie have two grown up children, both of them lived in Manhattan. They’re both girls too, so Max and Debbie knew girls! Max worked as an accountant (boring), and Debbie was his secretary, however, she stayed home to be a domestic goddess (her words) once we came to live with them. It worked out okay, Max was in partnership in a large firm, and he took care of some pretty big clients, so financially we were okay, but it wasn’t like we went from poverty to rolling in riches either, they liked to teach us the value of a dollar... we earned our pocket money.

  What was really nice though, was once Sally turned 18; Debbie and Max informed her she was still their responsibility. Unlike those horror stories where foster kids got tossed out of home after 18, but then, Debbie and Max had always introduced us as their nieces... we weren’t foster kids in their eyes... we were family.

  I had my own room, and I shared an ensuite with Sally. Sally and I were still tight, very tight! We were more like friends than sisters. We shared pretty much everything; at least I did. She had tough times sometimes, but she shared those times with her psychiatrist. Those times came and went, but mostly they were gone now.

  *

  It’s Monday, and I’m meeting some friends of mine today, Blake and Julie.

  Current speculation amongst our year group is that Blake is gay, and that he just doesn’t recognize it fully yet. The three of us have been joking about it for the past 6 months, he jokes about it too, playing it up to us. But Blake and I hang out more often than the three of us, since Julie and Blake don’t always see eye to eye, being twins and all that. Plus, Blake and I have more in common than Julie and I, since we share a love of English literature and music.

  Last year, I was reading through interviews on the internet, with Dave Grohl, front man for the Foo Fighters (yes, I am one of those totally freaky fans!), and I came across quite a lot of references to an Australian radio station. I was intrigued, so I looked them up, began streaming them live over the internet, and became a fan of Triple J; an Australian national youth radio station that had seriously cool music... indie, alternative, hip hop and different to all the pop shit playing on the stations around here. I like different. So, at home, I listen to them, although their breakfast programs are at night and vice versa... I mean we are on opposite sides of the globe. I stream them on my iPhone too, and listen to them frequently.

  Blake listens to them too now, and so together we detest the crappy pop music radio bullshit. We like to think we have good taste in music. We like to be different from everyone else at school, including Julie. Did I mention we like being different?

  Julie and Blake are hilarious! They fight over all sorts of stupid things, and yet they have a close friendship that is palpable. Their parents are old, like my foster parents; but they’re their real parents. Mr. and Mrs. Austen got married early, but they went and established their careers first before starting a family. Then, they couldn’t have a baby for years, despite trying... and then they did IVF. IVF didn’t work for the first 6 goes... but in the end, they had twins, a boy and a girl (or two girls, since Blake is apparently like a girl... I’m still not convinced, although everyone else appears to be sure).

  *

  I rushed into Sally’s room to go through her clothes. Since she and I are the same size, despite my height. I’m half a head taller than her, so despite her clothing fitting me perfectly (and vice versa), I look skinnier. At 5ft 8in, I could just see over her 5ft 5in frame. She looks healthier, more athletic than me, but I liked having the height over her, and we still got to share clothes.

  Recently, I had been eyeing off her bras. She had some really pretty lacy bras she had been buying for herself. I was wondering whether they’d fit me, so I decided to check them out. However, while looking through her bra draw, beside her bed – I found a box of condoms… Pleasuremax… to fit…

  “Eww…” I flinched back, dropping the box on the bed. I did NOT need or want to know the size of Henry’s dick. In fact, now that I thought about it, I didn’t want those bras after all. Knowing Henry had been eyeing Sally in those bras, touching her and… eww… entirely too much for me to process.

  “What are you doing in here?” Debbie asked from the door.

  “I was thinking of pilfering a bra, but then I found these.” I stated, boldly holding out the condoms, and giving Debbie a disgusted glance.

  “I think that’s a draw you should avoid at all costs.” Debbie said, coming in, grabbing the condoms and shoving them back into the draw before I could comment further, “Your sister should be allowed to have some privacy.” She chuckled, steering me towards the door.

  “They’ve been having sex in this room, and all you can say is give her some privacy?” I questioned.

  “Yes.” Debbie said, rolling her eyes and putting more pressure on my shoulders to move me.

  “Um… so having sex in our room is okay?” I questioned.

  “Not for you!” she answered, “You’re underage, but when you are no longer underage, we’ll renegotiate terms then.”

  I stared at her… I never, in a million years thought that Sally would ever let a guy do that… like ever! I realised at that moment how stupid that seemed, of course they would do that, I mean they had been together for nearly two years, they were looking at moving in together in less than three months, and they were all over each other all the time.

  “What?” Debbie asked.

  “I’m surprised…” I admitted shamefully. Had I imagined my sister limited to that god awful experience?

  Debbie looked up at me and sighed, fully knowing what I referred to.

  Debbie has inviting blue eyes and silvering hair, kept short. Her alabaster skin seems untouched by her age. She was the complete opposite to Max, who had chocolate brown skin and eyes, although his hair is also silvering. Max was barely taller than me, at 5ft 9in, and Debbie was vastly shorter than Sally, at 5ft even.

  I tilted my head down to look into her eyes. She reached up and placed her palms on either side of my face. Today, Debbie wore a bright red blouse and dark blue denim jeans. She had a flattering figure, with a generous backside and breasts, and a slim waist in-between… a classic hourglass look. She was without shoes inside the house, and her toenails were painted the same red as her fingernails.

  “People heal… they move on you know.” She offered, a slight smile playing across her lips. She gave me a friendly tap on my left cheek.

  “Okay.” I had nothing else to say… I knew how I felt about sex; I mean I wasn’t ready yet, but Julie and I talked about it occasionally. However, I wasn’t the one that was raped at the age of
ten. Obviously, Sally had well and truly moved on, and for some reason, now that I reflected on it, it made me feel better about me. Besides, this wasn’t a topic for conversation… or thought… ever!

  *

  I finally settled on stealing a dark grey pair of skinny jeans, matching them with an thrift shop find I had made two weeks previously when shopping with Blake - yes, Blake... he was so good at finding awesome clothes, and my budget was limited; a fourteen-year-old in the McFarlane household, didn’t earn much money... they were pretty tight fisted, my foster parents; but damn, they were nice people.

  *

  The top was green, with tulip sleeves and several largish skulls of assorted sizes, displayed across it in a slightly faded green tone from the emerald green majority. I had recently had blond foils put through my hair, as a gift from Sally for making it through Middle School, and it made my normally mousy light brown hair look pretty nice; highlighting and lifting it to a dirty blond color. I looked like I had been on summer break already, spending a heap of time in the sun; although, we all knew my hair didn’t get sun kissed, and I didn’t tan, I burnt... so time in the sun, sun baking... no! I still had those freckles across my nose too... Debbie referred to them as fairy kisses... hmmm!

  I matched the outfit with dark grey Rob Dyrdek DCs. I am girly to a point... but then comfort has to take over. Hence the t-shirt, which albeit is still all girly and cute (despite the skulls), isn’t Project Runway, especially when matched with my DCs.

  People in my neighborhood used to think my style of clothing was all show. No way! I skated, so it was practical.

  I had a newspaper/cartoon print Volcom deck with pink and black Vault 5 inch aluminium trucks, and pink colored, Pink Skateboards brand 72mm wheels, which of course I loved. But I didn’t do more than the basics when I skated; as in, I rode down the street, hopped off in heavy traffic, and never did skateparks. But I could weave around obstacles, ollie off gutters and down a couple of stairs (and land it), and I could handle speed. I just figured I didn’t need to prove myself on half pipes, handrails and extensive stairs. I mean, seriously... I watched that shit on ‘youtube’ and cringed and laughed like the rest of humanity, but I didn’t want that stuff happening to me. So, I used skateboarding as a means of transport, not to get a concussion; although, I was all for watching the guys down the skatepark do their thing. Around here, guys were all for the showing off part, and not sharing their skatepark with girls anyway... so, it worked both ways.