Hillary_Flesh and Blood

by Angel Gelique

  “My name is Bobbi Sutton...as I mentioned to your husband, I’m from Child Protective Services.”

  Mrs. Sutton extended her hand as she added, “I’m here about your daughter Hillary.”

  Kathy shook Mrs. Sutton’s hand quickly then pulled her hand away. She looked visibly nervous and jittery.

  “Go get Mrs. Sutton a cup of coffee,” Michael ordered, “I’ll take care of this.”

  Mrs. Sutton made a mental note of Michael’s domineering presence and Kathy’s obedience. Kathy quickly retreated to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

  “So what’s this about?” Michael asked, confidence replacing his fear.

  He came off a bit too gruff and intimidating for Mrs. Sutton’s liking. She was used to dealing with all walks of life in her profession. She had met some of the nicest people, but many of worst and scariest. She wasn’t about to let Michael bully her. She got right to the point.

  “Why hasn’t Hillary been going to school?”

  Michael mentally sighed in relief. His secret was still safe.

  “I know, I know,” he said calmly, “my wife and I have been working on that. I think she was being bullied at school.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Sutton asked, arching her eyebrows. “Did you discuss it with the Principal at her school? With her teachers?”

  “Not me personally, my wife may have. Hillary’s very shy, very sensitive...she doesn’t like to cause trouble.”

  “Cause trouble? How so?”

  “Well you know, she wouldn’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  “Mr. Greyson, you’re being awfully evasive. What exactly did Hillary tell you about being bullied?”

  Michael’s face began to redden.

  “Some girls have been picking on her, that’s all,” he replied snidely.

  “Which girls?”

  “How the hell would I know? I don’t go to her school.”

  “Mr. Greyson, there’s no need to raise your voice. I’m here to help Hillary, as I’m sure you’re interested in doing as well.”

  “Yes, of course...I apologize. It’s just very upsetting.”

  Kathy appeared before them.

  “Why don’t you come into the family room and have a seat?” she suggested.

  Michael sneered.

  “Why don’t you get back to—” he began but was interrupted by Mrs. Sutton.

  “Actually, Mrs. Greyson, please join us. You probably have more information than Mr. Greyson.” She turned to Mr. Greyson and with a facetious smile on her face, added “you know, girls confide more in their mothers.”

  Mr. Greyson’s stone face made it apparent that he was not pleased by her suggestion but he did not reply. The three of them walked to the family room. Kathy and Michael sat on the oversized beige micro-suede couch while Mrs. Sutton took a seat on the matching loveseat adjacent to them.

  “Mrs. Greyson, what did Hillary say about being bullied in school?” Mrs. Sutton asked.

  “Bullied?” Kathy looked puzzled; Hillary had never made any such claim.

  “Ha!” Michael exclaimed loudly, “I guess you were wrong about mothers and daughters.”

  “What?” Kathy questioned, “Hillary was bullied in school?”

  “My wife has no clue what’s going on,” Michael said, “Hillary’s a daddy’s girl, I’m the one she confides in. She’s embarrassed to tell people about it...even her own mother.”

  “Hmmm,” Mrs. Sutton replied, skeptically.

  “But I—” Kathy started.

  “Isn’t the coffee ready, dear?” Michael interrupted. His tone had an obvious edge making it clear that he was barking an order.

  Kathy quickly rose to her feet.

  “Yes, yes, I’ll go get the coffee,” she said apprehensively.

  Mrs. Sutton scribbled notes in her pad. Michael wondered what negative things she was writing about him. He knew he’d have to do some damage control. He could be charming, persuasive. He’d have her praising him like a Messiah before she left.

  “I have to tell you something,” he leaned toward her and whispered.

  “What is it?” she asked, staring attentively into his piercing blue eyes.

  “My wife, Kathy...she’s mentally ill. She suffered a breakdown a few months ago. It’s had an effect on all of us, but mostly Hillary.”

  Mrs. Sutton’s glare was unwavering. She didn’t trust Michael. He gave off bad vibes and she had learned to trust her instincts.

  “What kind of breakdown?”

  “I guess it was a post-partum thing, we have an infant.”

  “Oh? How old’s the baby?”

  “Well he’s two, I know, not exactly a baby, but ever since she had him, Kathy’s been depressed.”

  “She didn’t seem depressed to me....”

  “She hides it well in public and in front of outsiders.”

  “I see,” Mrs. Sutton replied as she scribbled more notes. “What does her doctor say?”

  “Oh Kathy’s too stubborn to go to the doctor, she insists she can cope on her own.”

  “Mr. Greyson, are you telling me that your wife has been unstable for two years, that she’s been depressed and suffered a mental breakdown but hasn’t sought professional help?”

  Mrs. Sutton furrowed her brows as she waited for his response. She was growing increasingly annoyed and suspicious.

  “That’s right, Bobbi is it? Can I call you Bobbi?”

  “No, I’d rather you didn’t, Mr. Greyson.”

  She was a tough nut to crack. Michael narrowed his eyes. Still, Mrs. Sutton’s resolve remained strong. She was going to find out why Hillary Greyson stopped going to school.

  “So what did Hillary tell you about being bullied?”

  “There’s a group of girls who were picking on her...you know, typical teen girl bullshit, they’re jealous of her is all.”

  “What precisely did Hillary say they did or said to her to make her so upset that she no longer wants to go to school?”

  “They call her names, you know, like slut, bitch, whore....”

  “Have they hurt her physically?”

  “No, not like that.”

  “How many girls have been bullying her?”

  “Three or four.”

  “What are their names?”

  “I don’t know...that’s not relevant.”

  “It’s very relevant, Mr. Greyson, if you claim Hillary’s being bullied so badly that she doesn’t want to attend school anymore. Any reasonable parent would go to the school immediately and get to the bottom of it.”

  “Yeah, well, I think Kathy tried that early on and—”

  “Kathy? You mean your wife who had no clue that Hillary is allegedly being bullied?”

  Michael’s face burned red with embarrassment and anger.

  “Look, we’re private people we deal with things our way.”

  “Do you know that truancy is against the law? You could be in a lot of trouble, Mr. Greyson.”

  “Bullshit! We’ll deal with—”

  “Where’s Hillary? I have to speak with her.”

  Michael went from angry to nervous. He swallowed hard then bit his lower lip.

  After hesitating, he replied, “she’s not home.”

  It was an obvious lie.

  “Oh?” Mrs. Sutton challenged, “Then where is she?”

  Kathy returned carrying a silver-toned tray with a cup of coffee, a sugar bowl, a creamer and a spoon. She set the tray upon the coffee table.

  “Where’s Hillary?” Mrs. Sutton asked Kathy.

  “At the library,” Michael quickly replied.

  Kathy frowned.

  “I was asking Mrs. Greyson,” Mrs. Sutton sternly responded.

  “Mrs. Greyson is going to bring me a cup of coffee,” Michael said sharply.

  Kathy turned to leave.

  “Just one second, Mrs. Greyson, is Hillary—”

  “I already told you Hillary is at the library!” Michael erupted. He stood up and glared down at Mrs. S
utton.

  “You need to leave now,” he said angrily.

  “I’m not done yet,” she replied calmly, meeting his glare with her own icy stare. “Unless, of course, you’d like to get the police involved.”

  Michael fell for her bluff; there was no way he wanted police involvement. He fell back onto the couch. Kathy started slowly walking back to the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Greyson, why don’t you join us?” Mrs. Sutton asked.

  Torn between obeying her husband and Mrs. Sutton’s suggestion, Kathy froze in place for a few seconds before returning to the couch. She sat with her head lowered, clearly uncomfortable with being placed in the middle.

  “Where’s Hillary?” Mrs. Sutton asked her sternly.

  “At the library,” Michael chimed in.

  “I’m not asking you,” Mrs. Sutton responded, clearly annoyed. “I was talking to Mrs. Greyson.”

  “S-she’s at the library,” Kathy stammered nervously.

  “So if I go upstairs, I won’t find her?”

  Michael abruptly stood up.

  “You’re not going upstairs,” he yelled, “get out, we’ve answered enough questions.”

  “Mr. Greyson, I—”

  “Get out, his voice boomed, “Hillary will be at school tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Sutton stood up. She glared bitterly at Michael before turning her attention to Kathy.

  “If you ever need to talk, Mrs. Greyson—”

  “Out!” Michael bellowed and Mrs. Sutton clung to her pad of paper tightly as she made her way to the door.

  Michael followed behind her. Just before leaving, she turned to him and said, “I’ll find out what’s going on here.”

  Without waiting for a response, she let herself out of the home, slamming the door behind her.

  Kathy stood just behind Michael. He didn’t even hear her approaching.

  “What is going on, Mike? Was Hillary really being bullied?”

  “Hillary’s fine,” he said dryly and walked past her to the stairs.

  Michael walked up to Hillary’s room. Without knocking, he entered. Hillary was asleep on her bed, with her back to him.

  “Wake up!” Michael yelled, giving her shoulder a shove.

  Hillary turned to face him. She looked at the clock on her nightstand and winced.

  Why is he here so early, she wondered. She feared that he would force himself on her again or make her do one of the other unspeakable acts he had taught her.

  “What?” she asked groggily.

  “No more of this lazy crap, Hillary, you’re going to school first thing tomorrow.”

  “No!” she protested, “I’m not going back to school.”

  “Yes you are, don’t you dare talk back to me!”

  “I don’t wanna go to school...I don’t need school anymore.”

  “Tough, you’re going and you’re going to tell them you were being bullied and that’s why you didn’t want to go before.”

  “What are you talking about? I—”

  “Hillary Anne Greyson, I’m only saying this one last time so make sure you hear me. Tomorrow morning you’re gonna wake up bright and early, take a shower, get dressed all nice and pretty and be on that school bus when it comes, because if you don’t, God help me, I’ll make you suffer!”

  “You’re already making me suffer,” Hillary retorted.

  “And another thing,” Michael said angrily, ignoring her comment, “you’d better not say anything about what we’ve been doing.”

  “You mean what you’ve been doing to me?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t like it...that’s not the point. You keep your mouth shut about it, you hear me?”

  Hillary said nothing.

  “I said do you hear me?” Michael repeated, grabbing Hillary’s face roughly so that she faced him.

  “Yes I hear you,” she said robotically.

  “Fine. Get out of bed and go wash up, you stink,” he said as he turned to leave. When he got to the door he turned back to her and said softly, “I’ll see you later, Princess.” He winked his eye then turned and walked downstairs. He found Kathy on the couch sipping a cup of coffee.

  “I had a talk with Hillary,” he informed her, “she’ll be returning to school tomorrow.”

  Kathy faced him nervously. She knew she should accept what he was saying without question. Yet, she felt compelled to know.

  “What about the bullies?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

  “I told Hillary how to deal with them. She just needed a good pep talk, is all. She’ll get her confidence back in no time.”

  “Why didn’t she mention it to me? I asked her so many times what—”

  “You wouldn’t know how to give her advice like I do. Don’t take it personally, babe, you’re just a weak little lady.”

  Kathy didn’t disagree, she was weak. Years and years of subservience had rendered her numb. She did what Michael demanded, thought what he thought, believed what he believed. She had long ago stopped being Kathy Nicholls, individual human. She was now Kathy Greyson, Michael’s puppet. Nor was Kathy disturbed by her role; she accepted her position happily. She was content being a dutiful wife and mother.

  After several awkward silent minutes, Michael stood up to leave.

  “What’s for dinner?” he asked, “I’m starving.”

  Kathy, mimicking her leader, stood up and said, “pot roast...it should be done soon.”

  She walked to the kitchen to tend to the meal, as suggested. Yet Kathy, who had been troubled by Hillary’s prolonged depression now had an unshakable, nagging suspicion that her husband had something to do with it. She didn’t believe that Hillary would confide in him. She didn’t believe that Hillary had been bullied. Hillary had been a popular girl, she had tons of friends. No, something was just not right with his story.

  Normally, puppet Kathy would accept anything and everything her puppet master told her...but not today. Today Kathy knew she had to find out for herself why Hillary had grown so distraught.

  After dinner, while Michael was out playing pool with his work buddies, Kathy walked upstairs to Hillary’s room. She knocked lightly on the door. Without a response, Kathy pushed the door open. Hillary was sitting up on her bed writing in a notebook.

  “Hi, Hilly Bee,” Kathy said softly as she approached slowly. She sat at the foot of the bed. Hillary sighed and closed the notebook. She held it up against her chest as she waited for a lecture from her mother. No doubt the woman was about to give her a speech about going to school tomorrow.

  “I know you weren’t being bullied, were you?” Kathy asked softly.

  Hillary sighed again. When was her mother going to quit trying to figure out what screwed her up?

  “Hilly? Sweetheart? It’s been a long, long time, baby. Don’t you think it’s time you talked to me? I can help you....”

  “Mom, I’ve told you a million times, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Fine? Look at you! When was the last time you showered?”

  “Whatever, not like I’m going to the ball.”

  “Hillary, what happened to you? I know your dad is dead set against you seeing a therapist, but I disagree. He doesn’t have to know, I could take you—”

  “No, Mom, Dad’s right, it would be a waste of time.”

  “Your dad doesn’t know that, he’s not a psychologist. Maybe it would be easier to open up to someone else...someone not related to you. Maybe—”

  “No, Mom, I’m fine, I just want to be left alone.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave after you tell me what’s wrong,” Kathy said stubbornly. She crossed her arms and waited for Hillary to confide in her at last.

  “You can sit there all night, it won’t make a difference.”

  “Why are you so afraid to talk to me? What are you hiding?”

  “God, Mom…how many times do we have to have this conversation? When I’m ready, I’ll talk to you,” Hillary said exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

  “Yet, you can ta
lk to your father?” Kathy said, her eyes misting, her voice quavering, “Does he matter more to you than I do?”

  “No, Mom...I don’t talk to Dad.”

  Tears rolled down Kathy’s face. Hillary hated to see her mother so sad. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her.

  “I know you’re a ‘daddy’s girl,’ but—”

  Kathy stopped speaking when she noticed the look of disgust wash over Hillary’s face.

  “Okay, I know you’re not a child anymore...you’re too old to be a daddy’s girl, too old to—”

  “No!” Hillary screamed out loud, her outburst startling Kathy into silence, “I’m too young to be daddy’s girl...I’m too young to do those things...I’m not his girl, I’m not, I’m not!”

  Hillary broke down and began sobbing uncontrollably. Her mother had no idea what had just happened.

  “Hillary...what is it sweetheart? I don’t understand, what do you mean?”

  Hillary flung herself into her mother’s arm. She needed her mother’s strength. She needed her mother’s protection.

  “Don’t let him touch me anymore,” she cried softly.

  “Who?” Kathy asked, confused, “what are you talking about?”

  “Daaadddddd....” she whispered as she sobbed within her mother’s arms.

  “What are you saying, Hilly? Has your father been hitting you?”

  Kathy knew Michael was capable of it, though she didn’t want to believe it. She thought back to the time when Michael had severely beaten Phillip, nearly killing him. She shuddered at the thought. Could it be true? Could he be hurting their own daughter?

  Hillary was still sobbing heavily. She clung to Kathy like a frightened child. She didn’t answer her question.

  “Hilly?” Kathy asked anxiously, prying Hillary away from her so that she could look into her eyes. “Has your father been hitting you?”

  Hillary shook her head. Kathy was overcome with relief. A weak smile involuntarily formed on her face despite Hillary’s sorrow. She thought it couldn’t possibly be any worse than that.

  “Tell me, Hilly...who’s been hurting you?”

  “Daaaaddy,” she whimpered.

  “But you said...you said he doesn’t hit you.”

  Kathy was growing anxious again.

  “He doesn’t hit me…he touches me,” Hillary whispered.

  “What? What do you mean?” Kathy asked in horror. Deep crease lines formed the number eleven upon her forehead as she frowned.