It’s raining. I love the rain but not the thunder and lightning. The flashing lights aren’t as bad as the angry thunder. It reminds me of Momma when she’s in a rage—high on drugs, drinks, and men. Today, I have a double dose of it because there’s a thunderstorm raging outside, and my monster of a mother is in one of her own rages.
I had hoped and prayed to God that she would just go to sleep like she usually does, but God wasn’t listening today. It seems like God isn’t listening anytime I pray to him. I’m beginning to wonder if He even exists like the preacher who stops by from time to time says He does. Momma curses God a lot, so I think she believes in him.
The rain soaks through my thin T-shirt and leggings. I snuck out of the window in my room as soon as Momma finished with me. The raindrops wash away my tears and the blood on the many cuts Momma left when she went after me with a switch and her fists. The cold water stings on my swollen welts and bruised body, but I’m used to the pain.
As soon as my bare feet touch down outside my window of our trailer, I race across the tiny section of grass that separates the run-down trailer I live in from the one Nik calls home. I pray that his mother hasn’t decided to clean his room, that she hasn’t locked the window he always leaves unlocked for me—just in case.
As I step onto the old five-gallon bucket I use as a stepladder, I let out a whimper when I find that, yes, Nik’s mom has, in fact, been in his room. The window is locked. Shivering, I stand outside with no shoes, no coat, and now no warm room to escape into. I know there is no use trying one of the other surrounding trailers. Jesse’s dad is home, and I would never go in there when there’s the chance that Mr. Thornton could find me. Drake and Shane’s trailer only has a small window that is far too high for my little legs to reach, unless one of them helps me.
A small sob escapes me, and I push the wet, matted hair away from my face, only to wince when I touch my swollen cheek. Momma is a pro at slapping my face. And today, she’d been mainly on target considering the number of drugs she’s been taking and the booze she chases it all with.
There’s a noise from across the small lawn. My mother has come back for round two and discovered that I’m gone. Heart racing, I do the only thing I can think of. I pull on the tin that underpins Nik’s trailer. I pull and pull, slicing my palms as I do so. Finally, with a whimper of triumph, I pull it back enough so I can crawl under the trailer.
Once I am under, I pull the tin back into place. I swallow a scream when I sit back and my hand touches the skeleton of a mouse. I wipe my hand on my soaked leggings and then wrap my arms around my knees so I don’t come into contact with the mouse again. Leaning my head back against the underpinning and closing my eyes, I pray my mother doesn’t think to look for me here…
I must have fallen asleep. When I wake up, I hear Nik and Jesse calling my name. Both sound frantic. “Emmie?” Nik is right beside me on the other side of the tin. “Em?”
I reach for the tin and pull it back enough to look out. They don’t notice me at first. Nik is standing with Jesse; both have on their band shirts that they let me help design. Jesse has his drumsticks in his left hand, while his other is clenched into a fist. Nik looks worried.
“She wouldn’t have gone far.”
“That fucking bitch! If I didn’t think they would take Emmie from us, I would call the cops so quick,” Jesse is muttering.
“But they will, Jess. And then she would be in a worse place than she already is. At least here, we can take care of her,” Nik tells the drummer.
It’s the same conversation they always have after every beating. If they called the cops, then social services would take me away. It isn’t safe in foster care any more than it is at my mother’s. Maybe even worse. I’m seven, and I understand what that means. Nik and the others have explained it to me more than once.
I tug the tin back a little more and start to crawl out. I’m stiff and hurting. Mud is caked in the cuts left by the switch and the slice on my hands from the underpinning. I’m swollen and bruised, and I can already feel the tickle in the back of my throat that says I’m going to have a sore throat. Suddenly, gentle hands are pulling me out. As soon as my feet are clear, I’m lifted into Nik’s strong arms.
“Fuck!” Jesse exclaims.
“Shut up, Jess,” Nik hisses as his arms tighten around me.
I can see the wheels working in his mind. He is wondering where to take me, where to hide me. I hear laughter coming from my trailer—my mother must have one of her boyfriends over—and the sound of the television coming from Nik’s. If his mom sees me like this, she will call the cops herself; neither is an option.
“My dad is gone.” Jesse is already walking toward his trailer. “Come on, Nik.”
By the time they have me in Jesse’s room, I’m shaking. I’m cold, so cold, and hurting so badly. “We have to get her warm,” Nik says. “Start running the hot water so I can give her a bath.”
Jesse doesn’t say anything as he leaves his room, and I hear water turning on from the next room. Nik sets me on my feet and starts pulling off my still-wet T-shirt. I don’t protest as he tugs my leggings down along with my panties. He sucks in a deep breath when he sees the bruises, the deep gashes on my legs and arms, and the ones on my back and across my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Emmie,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t say anything because I don’t understand why he’s sorry. He didn’t hit me. This isn’t his fault. I might only be a little girl, but I know he can’t always protect me. He has a band, and today his band had played at a party for some kids from his school. I wish he could have taken me, but I know that a seven-year-old at a high school party isn’t a good idea. Shane tried to explain it to me, and I’m almost positive I understand the reasons.
“Nik!” Jesse calls from the bathroom. “I’m not sure if this is too hot or not. Come here and check it out.”
Nik leads me by the hand into the bathroom and then bends to feel the temperature of the water. “This should be good.” He lifts me and places me in the tub.
I whimper when the water touches my gashes. It hurts, but the heat of the water feels good on my cold legs. Soon, the shaking stops. Nik washes me, trying to be gentle as he cleans the wounds on my body. His jaw is clenched, and I think there are tears in his eyes.
Later, after my hair is washed and smells good, he lifts me from the water and wraps me in a towel. Jesse has a box of Band-Aids with little princesses on them that he knows I like. But there is also a tube of the stingy ointment in his other hand, and I shake my head.
“No. That hurts.”
Nik is rubbing the towel over my wet body, still trying to be gentle. Some of the gashes are bleeding again, and it hurts when the towel rubs across them. When he’s done, he takes the ointment from Jesse, and I move away.
“No, Nik,” I whimper. “I don’t want that.”
“I know, Emmie. I know it hurts. But you don’t want them to get infected, do you?” He’s blinking a lot, and I think he is trying not to cry. “If they get infected, you’ll have to go to the doctor and get a shot.”
Those are the magic words. I hate shots! I hate doctors! So, I sit on the small sink and let him put ointment all over me, trying not to whimper because it hurts. By the time he’s done, the tube is almost empty. Jesse helps him put on the Band-Aids. After each one, they kiss away the hurt and say what they always say. “Get better.”
Jesse puts one of his shirts on me. It’s so big they have to tie a knot in it so I don’t trip over it when I walk. When I’m covered, Nik lifts me and carries me back into Jesse’s room. They put me in the little bed against the wall and tuck a blanket that smells like Jesse around me.
Shane and Drake come into the room. Shane has a bag from Walmart, and he pulls out a box of medicine. They give me a big dose of Tylenol and then feed me. Drake had stopped at McDonald’s and got me a chicken nugget Happy Meal. My stomach growls, and I realize I haven’t had anything to eat since the day before.
My stomach hurts after the first bite. I sit and hold my tummy until the pain passes, and then I gobble up the rest of the nuggets and fries. I don’t drink the Sprite that they got me until after I’ve eaten. It tastes good. Finally, I reach for my toy, a little stuffed animal with crazy hair and a T-shirt. I hold it close to my chest as Nik brushes the tangles from my damp hair. It pulls because it hasn’t been brushed in a while, but I don’t complain as he tries to be gentle.
As the brush works through my hair, my eyes begin to grow heavy. Soon, I am asleep…