Twelve-year old Gemma Bowman waited in the dark, hoping against hope that her older brother Chris wouldn't come home.
She lay on her tiny bed on her side of the room, the blanket tacked up to the ceiling the only thing keeping apart the two sides of the bedroom she shared with him. She usually tried to pretend she was asleep, hoping that he wouldn't wake her up, but more often than not, he didn't care. Maybe, he'd stay out all night like he often did on Thursdays. He worked at the local pizza joint as a dishwasher and stayed late with his co-workers. Since she'd been seven and he was twelve, they'd played the game -- the game of hiding under the blankets and doing things that he said she could never talk about or she'd get them both in trouble.
"Do you want him to get mad?" Chris would say, his voice a harsh rasp. "He'll get mad and he'll get out the belt. Do you want that?"
She didn't want the belt. Her father had it used on her a couple of times, and it hurt. Once, he had left such a bad welt on her buttocks that it was painful for her to sit on the hard chair at school, but when she complained, no one did a thing.
Her mother told her not to be so disobedient.
"Do what you're told, and you won't get the belt," she said, a bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of her, a cigarette in her hand, a dozen stubbed out butts in the ash tray. The television blared some afternoon talk show and her mother's bleary eyes were focused on the screen.
Gemma came to realize she'd get no help from her mother.
Her parents smoked and because of their habits, the kids often went hungry so they could buy cigarettes. Her mother drank, too, and because of that, they often went without dinner while she lay in a stupor on the sofa. Her father was out of work because of layoffs at the plant, so times were hard all around. He spent most of his time in the garage, in his 'man cave' and wasn't to be disturbed. He stayed out at night, drinking with his friends. Sometimes, he went hunting and fishing with his buddies up north. The rest of the time, he seemed to avoid them all.
Now twelve, Gemma didn't want to play her brother's games anymore. She started to resist, but he always had some threat or used his greater strength to force her. She knew now that what they did together was wrong, and didn't want to do it any more. Her best friends at school didn't do things like that with their brothers. They had their own bedrooms, while she shared hers. Her mother thought that the blanket tacked up on the ceiling between their twin beds would keep him away, but it didn't.
She only hoped that he'd stay out all night and leave her in peace. It was Thursday night and he often skipped school on Fridays, staying out late with his friends and not coming home at all.
When she heard the front door open, she decided that was going to be the end. She wasn't going to do it anymore. She grabbed her backpack, stuffed some underwear and a change of clothes inside it, the book she was currently reading, and climbed out the window, jumping down into the bushes a few feet below.
She'd go to Trisha's place. Trisha lived in a house a few blocks away, and her older brothers were always up playing video games until the middle of the night. They'd let her stay. She'd gone there before to escape Chris, and she figured Trisha wouldn't mind sharing her bed once more.
Before she got to the edge of the yard surrounding their apartment building, the light in their bedroom switched on, causing a swath of white light to fall across the grass.
"I'm telling," Chris called out from the open window.
She didn't reply. Instead, she climbed over the fence and walked down the back alley towards Trisha's house.
Let him tell on her. Maybe, she'd never come back...
It wasn't like anyone would miss her. Gemma knew she was just another mouth to feed, and just a toy for Chris to play with. Her mother was never nice to her, always preoccupied with her television shows and her beer. Her father was even worse. All he did was enforce the rules with his hand or his belt. The rest of the time he was gone.
She was treated way nicer at Trisha's house. They weren't rich, or anything, but they always seemed to have food and while Trisha's parents were often away working at their many part-time jobs, Trisha's brothers Tim and Terry were nice. They weren't bullies like Chris.
While she walked down the dark alley, the neighbor's dog Max barked at her from the back yard. When she passed, she whispered to him.
"Hi, Max. It's me. Good boy." He stopped barking when he heard her and smelled her, and she patted him through the fence.
Satisfied that she'd given Max some attention, Gemma opened the back gate leading to Trisha's house. She could see the boys playing on their X-Boxes, the two of them seated on a sofa, headsets on, controllers in their hands. They were animated, talking to each other and the other players, almost bashing the controllers as they fired their imaginary guns.
She walked up to the patio door and knocked on the glass.
Terry, the oldest brother, saw her and jumped up, coming over to open the door.
"Hey, Gemma. What are you doing out so late? Is your mom drunk again? Are they fighting?"
"I just wanted to get away. Can I stay here tonight? Is Trisha in bed?"
"Yeah, she went to bed already. Go on in. There's some bread and some bologna in the refrigerator if you want a sandwich."
"Thanks," Gemma said and went to the kitchen, her stomach grumbling. The brothers were used to her coming by and eating their food. They didn't seem to mind. There was an empty pizza box on the coffee table in front of them. Terry had a job and his own money and often treated them all to fast food.
She finished making her sandwich and took it and a can of Mountain Dew with her to Trisha's bedroom at the end of the hallway. She knocked on the door and opened it. The light from the hall shone in on Trisha, who was in bed with a book in her hands, a book light perched over the pages to illuminate them so Trisha could read at night.
"Hey," Gemma said. "Can I stay tonight?" She held up her backpack. "Maybe forever?"
"That bad?" Trisha said, familiar with Gemma's tales of familial woe. "Is Chris being a bastard again?"
"Something like that. I didn't want to stay."
"Come in," Trisha said and scooted over on the bed. It was a double, so there was room for them both. "I'm reading, but you can go to sleep if you want or listen to music on your phone."
"I'll read, too."
She sat on the side of the bed and ate her sandwich. Once finished, she opened her backpack and pulled out her nightgown. "I'll go brush my teeth and get in my pajamas."
She went to the bathroom across the hall and prepared for bed, glad to be at Trisha's instead of home. When Chris came home late after a night of partying, he always wanted to play the game. She knew it was just to get his rocks off, as Trisha called it. Trisha didn't know about the games, but she talked about sex. Trisha knew everything there was to know about sex because of Tim and Terry, who talked constantly about it. She showed Gemma their computer history with online porn.
"That's sex," she had said to Gemma when they first talked about it, thinking that the younger girl didn't know about it. Of course, Gemma knew only too well. She played dumb, though, and listened while Trisha told her all about the birds and the bees. It was nothing Gemma didn't already know, but it was just the stuff they learned in school about reproduction. Not real sex. No one talked about real sex. They talked about sperm and eggs and tubes.
It was Trisha's video snooping and the online porn where Gemma first realized that the game was really called incest. Sibling incest. She'd had enough, and wasn't going to wait for it to get even worse.
She had to save herself.
She had a shower and stared at herself in the mirror. Shorter than Trisha, Gemma had fair hair almost like corn silk, and pale blue eyes. She looked like a ghost, her skin so fair and her body thin and small for her age. It was like her body refused to develop in some way of rejecting what Chris did to her. Other girls in her class already had their periods and were developing breasts, but Gemma was still flat chested. It made her perfect for gymnastics, because she was small and limber, her coaches said. Workouts were strenuous, and kept her thin. Because she was blonde, she had no hair down there yet either. Trisha was already growing pubic hair and her breasts were buds that required a bra to disguise.
That was not something Gemma looked forward to. If she had her way, she'd never become a woman, as the film in their health class called them. Based on what she saw on the porn videos and what she experienced at home, becoming a woman was bad news.
She sighed and pulled on her pajamas and then returned to the bedroom. Once inside, she snuck under the covers beside Trisha, her own book in hand. It was book four in the Song of Ice and Fire series, and while it was really more for grownups, Gemma figured that she already knew the sick stuff. The rape and prostitution. She read the books for the heroes, who fought back against bullies and monsters. Gemma wanted to be one of the girls who fought back by escaping. Maybe like Éowyn in Lord of the Rings.
She was strong physically, due to years of gymnastics, but Chris was bigger and stronger and when she'd fought back, she'd been hurt worse than if she just gave in. She knew she'd have to become independent enough that she'd never have to give in to any man again.
The two girls read their books until well after midnight, when Trisha's mother popped her head inside and scolded them.
"What are you doing here, Gemma? Tomorrow's a school day. You should be at home."
"My brother was drunk," Gemma said.
Gemma's mother clucked her tongue in disapproval, but she didn't make Gemma go home, perhaps understanding how bad things were there. Mrs. Parker was aware of Chris's wildness. She also knew that Gemma was always hungry, always dirty and always sleepy. Staying over at Trisha's was one of the few times Gemma got a really good sleep.
Mrs. Parker closed the door and both girls put away their books, snuggling down beneath the blankets and whispering for a few moments.
Gemma wished she could live with the Parkers. They weren't rich, but they were a happy family, and ate together and there were no real problems that Gemma knew about.
She'd get in trouble the next time she saw Chris, but it was worth it. Maybe she could talk Mrs. Parker into letting her live there if she offered to do cleaning or maybe help the older boys delivering flyers door to door.
Gemma would do anything to keep from having to go home again.
Feeling safe from the predations of her older brother, Gemma finally fell asleep.
The two girls woke to a knocking at the door. It was Terry, Trisha's older brother.
"Get up," he said. "Time for breakfast."
Gemma sat up in bed and yawned, refreshed from a solid seven hours of sleep for a change.
The girls got up and went to the kitchen in their pajamas, Trisha in her Supergirl t-shirt and leggings and Gemma in her plain old navy-blue pajamas, which she inherited from her brother when he grew out of them. There was no money for Gemma to get a nice set of pajamas.
On the counter in the kitchen were Gemma's clothes from the day before. While the girls were asleep, Mrs. Parker must have come into the bedroom and removed them, washing them for Gemma. It was a really nice thing of her to do, but it made Gemma feel even worse. Her clothes were always dirty, compared to Trisha's. Gemma's mother didn't get around to doing laundry very often and so Gemma wore her few items of clothes over and over again until they were sometimes crusty with dirt and sweat.
Nothing was said, because Mrs. Parker had already gone to her shift as a dietary technician at the hospital. The children were on their own, but there was food in the refrigerator, and everyone knew how to look after themselves.
"Here," Trisha said, offering Gemma and bowl for some cereal. "This is your favorite."
Trisha smiled and Gemma was happy to take the box. It was instant oatmeal, maple flavor. The kind of breakfast food Gemma never got at home.
"Do you want to stay for the weekend?" Trisha asked, while they ate their breakfast. "Mom's off and we're going to order in pizza and watch movies tonight."
Gemma nodded, scarfing down the oatmeal because they had to get ready for school.
"I wish I could live here," she said. "You have a real family."
"I know. I wish you could, too. I don't think your mother would let you."
Gemma shook her head. "She doesn't care. She only cares about her beer."
Trisha sighed. "You should have a shower and wash your hair," Trisha said softly.
Gemma nodded and went to the bathroom as soon as she was finished eating. It was nice to have a shower with pretty-smelling shampoo and soap. What was even nicer was having clean clothes to wear.
She felt like a normal girl for once.