March 2006
Almost three months had passed since Christopher assaulted me, and I had yet to sleep through the night. I had lost fifteen pounds and quit my job at the movie theater. No one else knew what Christopher had done. He was rich and charismatic. Everybody liked him. Even if I wanted to tell somebody, it would be my word against his. I tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, but I couldn’t ignore my nightmares.
Some of my teachers must have recognized that something was wrong because they contacted my high school’s guidance counselor. The guidance counselor thought I was depressed, so he talked to my social worker and Christopher and Diana Hughes to make sure I was okay. We even had meetings where I sat and listened as they talked about my mental health. I wanted to run and never stop, but I had nowhere to go.
Then, one Friday night, Christopher came into my bedroom after everyone else went to bed.
“I saw your light on, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” I said, pulling the covers of my bed to my chin. “Please leave.”
He crossed the room and sat down on my comforter. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m worried. You should talk to me. I’m your dad.”
“You’re not my dad.”
A wicked, knowing grin spread across his face.
“Are you scared of me?”
I tried to tell him no, but my throat had tightened so much I couldn’t say anything. He brushed the back of his hand across my cheek, wiping away a tear.
“You have no reason to fear me,” he said, whispering. “I could be a friend. I could give you anything you want. Money, alcohol, clothes. You name it, and it’s yours. Just give me what I want.”
“Please get out,” I said, scooting across the bed so I was as far from him as I could get. “I won’t tell anybody what happened. Just leave me alone.”
He sighed and then nodded before standing. Part of me thought he would leave. My shoulders relaxed, and the tremble left my knees. But as he crossed the room, he didn’t leave. Instead he locked the door. My heart thudded against my chest, and my breath became ragged.
He walked toward me again. I wished I had a gun.
“Please just leave me alone,” I said, pleading with him. My entire body trembled. “If you touch me, I’ll scream.”
He knelt beside the bed and looked in my eyes. His shape was blurry through my tears.
“You’ll do what?” he whispered.
I tried to tell him I’d scream for Diana or Emily, but my voice caught in my throat. He shushed me and then reached forward to stroke my hair.
“Sweetheart, this is a big house, and I built it for privacy. Even the interior walls have six inches of insulation. You can scream all you want, but nobody will hear you. We need to talk about your future. I was very proud of you in your guidance counselor’s office. You didn’t make up any lies about me.”
“You mean I didn’t tell him you raped me,” I said.
His smile broadened. He liked seeing me cower.
“You remember things one way, and I remember them another. I’ve been thinking about that night we spent together. I could contribute to your college fund if you wanted. Would you like that? If you cooperate, everybody gets what they need. If you don’t, I will make you scream every day of your life, and I will take what I want anyway.”
He put a hand on my upper thigh and then scowled as he looked down.
“Oh, you are disgusting,” he said, standing up quickly. “You’re cleaning this up right now.”
He left the room and slammed the door shut behind him. I didn’t know what set him off until I looked down and saw that I had peed the bed. I cried until I didn’t have tears anymore, but then I changed the sheets and did the laundry.
Christopher didn’t return that night or the next or even the one after that. Life went on. I didn’t sleep well at night, but I slept some.
Then, four weeks later, I got home from school and found Emily grinning from ear to ear. I had taken the bus home while she had gotten a ride from a friend with a car. She smelled like weed—which she always did when coming home from school. She had three or four ounces of it hidden in the storage shed behind the house. I suspected she had money, too, although I had never seen that.
“Why are you so happy?” I asked.
“You’ll find out any minute now.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t care. I sat with my back to the wall at the table in the sunroom so I could do my homework. At ten to four, the doorbell rang, and Emily sprang to get it. I heard happy voices, so I walked to the foyer to see what was going on. Emily was hugging a young pretty girl in the entryway while Christopher and Mr. Ballard, my social worker, stood off to the side, beaming. Mr. Ballard and Christopher both smiled at me and beckoned me over.
“It’s nice to see you, Mary,” said Mr. Ballard. “I’m just dropping off your new foster sister.”
Emily pulled away from the girl. Both had happy tears on their cheeks.
“This is my sister,” said Emily.
“I’m Megan,” she said, smiling at me. She had skin like caramel and bright brown eyes. She had the face of a young teenager but the body of a much older girl. I felt sick to my stomach knowing what would happen to her in this house.
I looked to Mr. Ballard.
“Isn’t there a rule about housing siblings together?”
“Shut up,” said Emily, stepping close.
“It’s okay,” said Mr. Ballard, holding a hand to her to keep her from coming any closer. He focused on me and gave me a patronizing smile. “We prefer to keep siblings together where possible. I think this is a great house. You guys will be very happy here.”
Emily stepped behind me and squeezed my arm hard. “We are happy. We’ll be fine. We’re sisters.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” said Mr. Ballard. He turned to Christopher. “I’ve got paperwork for you to sign, and then Megan is all yours.”
I wanted to shout that Christopher had raped me and that he’d do it to Megan, too, but then I felt a sharp pinch at my back. Emily leaned forward so that I could feel her breath on my neck.
“Not another word, or I will gut you right here.”
So I kept my mouth shut until Christopher and Mr. Ballard left. Emily shoved me away and then showed me the knife she had pressed to my back. The blade was small, but it had an edge that glinted in the afternoon light.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked. “This is my sister. You want to break up my family?”
“She’s not safe here,” I said. “Christopher raped me.”
Megan blinked and opened her eyes wide, but Emily barely reacted.
“He raped you?” she asked.
“Yeah. He gave me a drink, and it must have had something in it because I passed out.”
“Then what’s the big deal? If you don’t even remember it, it’s like it didn’t happen.”
“But it did happen,” I said. As soon as the words left my lips, I realized I was admitting it for the first time. It had happened. He had hurt me, and he’d do it again if given the chance. I didn’t know how to deal with it, and I needed a friend. I barely knew Emily, and I didn’t like her, but she was the closest thing I had to someone who cared about me. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to tell. I’m so scared all the time that I hardly sleep at night, and I can barely keep food down. Some boy tried to talk to me at school, and I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom. I used to like him, but he looked at me like Christopher did.”
Emily slipped her knife into her pocket. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
My lips moved, but no sound came out.
“What?” she asked again.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t care what you do, but deal with it,” she said. “It’s your problem. I’ve got my sister. I’ve got my family. I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”
Emily led her sister away. Megan looked at me and mouthed that she was sorry.
“He’ll hurt her,” I said.
Emily turned around and shook her head. “No, he won’t because I won’t let that happen. If you’re smart, you won’t let him hurt you, either. Now stay out of my way. I’ve got a good thing here. I’ve got a business, I’ve got my family. You fuck this up for me, I will make you regret it.”
The two of them left, and I felt a weight press down on me. I had been alone for most of my life, but it took that moment for me to realize what that meant: No one would help me. It was stupid to pretend otherwise.
I went into the kitchen. Emily was showing her sister around. I ignored them both and took a steak knife from the block on the counter. Both girls saw me do it, but neither said a word. They were lifers in the foster care system, too. They knew what it meant to be alone.
I had to solve my problems on my own.