Beauty (28 page)

“She beat me,” he finally mumbled, his head falling against my chest with a thump, the weight of it knocking a whoosh of air from my lungs.

I figured that much, but I let him continue talking as I slowly pulled the back of his shirt up so that it was around his neck.

“We went to get the eggs, like always. I wasn’t running, I swear Lana,” Thomas sniffled, his head shaking now as he glanced up at me. “I never run,” he whispered pitifully, his hair falling over his eyes as he settled his head back against my chest. “I tripped. There was a stick in the yard, and I tripped. I didn’t mean to break the eggs, I really didn’t.”

“She did this to you,” I whispered, my eyes now downcast as my gaze swept his bare back, my fingers grazing the angry red whelps that blossomed from his skin in a design so intricate that I couldn’t even tell how many times she’d hit him.

“He’s going to kill me Lana, I know he is. After dinner… She said he’s going to beat me too! I broke the eggs!” Thomas cried now, his words muffled in my sweater as he gripped me tightly.

“He’s not going to beat you I promise. I’ll take you away from here tonight if he even tries,” I promised, anger slamming through me as I held his shaking body.

None of us had done anything to deserve this life. Roman and I were old enough to defend ourselves if it came down to it, but Shelly and Thomas were only six. Ranger, the baby hadn’t even begun walking yet, and at ten months old, he would have a hell of a life if someone didn’t get him out of here. I’d somehow taken on the mothering role of all three of them, and it pissed me off every time one of them was hurt this badly.

“Did you eat?” I asked, moving Thomas from my lap and laying him on my pillow.

My gut wrenched, when he shook his head no, my own hunger pangs threatening to eat me alive if I didn’t get something in my belly.

“I’ll bring you half of mine,” I promised, pulling the sheet over him before kissing his cheek. “Stop crying,” I whispered into his hair, pulling him into one more hug. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I have to go in there, but I’ll be back, okay?” I asked, hating the doubt that etched his innocent features as I stood from the narrow cot.

I was already in trouble for coming home late, so I had no problem saying something to the Pernickles’ about Thomas’ condition. I would be out of here in a few months, and another beating at the hands of Martin Pernickle would only strengthen my hatred for them, making me even more determined to not stay here any longer than the state required.

“Ninety Eight days,” I whispered to myself as I made my way back to the kitchen, my feet padding softly on the cracked linoleum.

They heard me coming, but only Roman looked up, his mouth pulling into a quick smile before adjusting his eyes back to the untouched food on his plate. I took the chair across from him, picking up the fork that had been left for me before I finally opened my mouth to speak.

“You could have broken something, or even killed him,” I said, my eyes on Jo Pernickle as she shot me an annoyed glance.

“Eat your food Alana, you already have the same coming to you. Don’t make it worse,” she answered, snatching a bit of t-bone from her fork and chewing loudly.

“I don’t care if you beat me. You can beat me now if you want,” I replied boldly, my stomach flip flopping as Martin Pernickle’s eyes came to rest of my face. “Thomas is hurt, and he’s hungry. I’m going to bandage him up this time, but there isn’t going to be a next time…”

“Or what…?” Martin Pernickle asked gruffly, baring his stained yellow teeth as his lips turned upward in a snarl.

Defiance rose within me, and I ignored the kick under the table I received from Roman, his eyes pleading with me not to push the issue. These challenges never ended well, and I was the only one that knew the real reason why Roman had spent eight weeks with his arm in a cast last summer. Martin Penickle had broken it after Roman refused to skin a deer he’d shot that day. It wasn’t going to end well for me, and we both knew it, but I suddenly didn’t care. I’d been quiet long enough.

“Do you like the checks you’ve been getting from the state each month? We sit here and eat this…this…Sh…. MESS…” I corrected myself as Shelly’s eyes widened at the word that had almost slipped from my mouth. “And yet, you punish us. You beat them like they’re grown men, and then you expect us to not say anything. I have the right to visit my parent’s graves whenever I want, and even so, I only go once a month. I’m not going to stand for you hurting the little ones anymore. You lay a finger on Thomas tonight, and you’ll have to kill me to keep me from going to the police,” I threatened, my words sounding a lot less menacing out loud than they did in my head.

“Don’t ask for something you know you don’t want,” Martin Pernickle’s words came cold and hard, causing my heart to almost jump right out of my chest.

My eyes met his, and I gritted my teeth, raising my chin to let him know that I wasn’t scared of him. No one could see that my legs were shaking under the table, and I was sure only Roman noticed how tightly I was gripping the fork now to keep from dropping it. I wasn’t sure who this girl was that dared challenge either of the Pernickle’s. Something had finally snapped inside of me, and I knew that he saw it in my eyes, his knife lowering slowly to rest beside his plate before he grabbed my wrist in a vice like grip.

“OUT!” Martin Pernickle shouted, bits of food flying from his mouth across the table ahead of his sweeping gaze.

Shelly didn’t have to be told twice, her chair hit the floor with a bang as she scampered from the table and down the hall, our bedroom door slamming shut behind her. I jerked once, trying to free my arm to no avail, my eyes still holding Martin Pernickle’s evil stare. The bones in my wrist felt as it they would snap at any moment, but I didn’t cry out from the pain. That’s exactly what he wanted.

“Didn’t you hear me boy? I said get out!” Martin Pernickle warned Roman now, his other fist slamming on the table in anger.

“Roman please…” I tried, but my voice was too shaky to continue.

There she was, the scared little girl that I’d been for the last five years, threatening to break through the newly birthed version of me. I felt the tears coming, and I swallowed hard, my eyes shifting to Roman’s worried face for a moment. If a look could have said it all, then Martin Pernickle would have known that Roman would kill him before he let anything happen to me. I almost smiled as I caught the hardened expression Roman now wore, his own fork gripped between his slim fingers, ready to use in my defense. His voice was steady, and my gaze shifted back to Martin Pernickle as the words sunk in.

“I’m not leaving…”

Simply put, but epic to watch as the soft spoken statement settled between the four of us. For once, Jo Pernickle had nothing to say, her words caught somewhere, no doubt, in the choking gasp she exhaled on. My fingers flexed as Martin Pernickle’s grip lessened on my wrist, a smirk now etched in the aging lines of his face as his gaze finally fell from mine. It was a small victory, and one I would probably never see again, but I rejoiced inside, the new me taking root as I shot a daring look at Jo Pernickle.

Her dull brown eyes immediately fell to her plate, her matching mousy brown hair covering most of her face as she refused to look at me. I wanted to think that my newly shown streak of defiance had caused the sudden turn around with the Pernickles, but something just wasn’t right. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the head shake from Martin Pernickle, and the nervous look he gave his wife when her mouth opened and then closed. There was a reason that the next world war hadn’t just broken out in the kitchen, and my eyes narrowed in suspicion now, my gaze sweeping around the room for a clue.

“That’s mine,” I stated bluntly, not bothering to point out the out of place Louis Vuitton luggage set that sat in the corner by the back door.

There was nothing luxurious about this old farmhouse, and I doubted Jo Pernickle even knew how to pronounce the name the designer the bags were named after. They’d been a gift from my parents for my thirteenth birthday, something I would have used on my trip to the Hampton’s, but I’d never gotten to go. A mother, daughter retreat is what they’d called it, my mom’s way of spending a few more precious moments with her little girl. I hadn’t seen the luggage since the day I moved in, and had assumed that they’d sold it off at the local pawn shop, but there they were, stacked according to size in a neat little row.

I suddenly understood now why Martin Pernickle had backed down so suddenly. They were putting me out! And there was no way they would send me anywhere with bruises all over me. My relief was short lived as my eyes fell on Roman’s, his face confused now as he looked from me to the bags.

“I’m…borrowing them,” Jo Pernickle finally answered, her explanation less than forthcoming.

“Wait…so I’m not…leaving then…?” I managed, disappointment shooting through me, despite the shift in Roman’s expression.

“You have three more months until you’re eighteen honey, and by then we’ll be…”

“Jo,” Martin Pernickle’s tone cut her sarcasm short, her eyes rolling as she jumped up from the table, leaving her unfinished plate of food.

“I’m going to finish packing,” She retorted, her bony hips bumping the high chair that still sat in the middle of the floor.

Her stomps were enough to shake the table, and I moved to rescue a sleeping Ranger from the now rocking high chair, before it could tip over with him in it. No one spoke as I busied myself with fixing him a bottle, his wails only quieting once I’d cradled him in my arms and began the pace back and forth in front of the sink. He was dirty, and in need of a bath, but my mind was more focused on the Pernickle’s impending trip.

“We’ve got some business to take care of …out of town,” Martin Pernickle chose his words carefully, his hand rising as my mouth opened to protest.

“Don’t think you got away with anything here tonight. Only because we’re leaving in the next hour or so am I’m letting it go for now. You will get just what I promised if you don’t do as I say while we’re gone. The state checks your school attendance, so that’s where you’ll be. Alana, you know the rules, and you will take care of this house. I want the kids on their chores, and I want my dogs fed. I got a big hunt coming up when I get back,” Martin Pernickle explained, already rising from his chair. “We won’t be gone more than a week, and this…” He paused, pointing at the luggage in the corner. “…Stays between us.”

“Or…what…? What’s to stop us from walking out that door right behind you?” Roman asked, rising as well so that he was almost eye level with Martin Pernickle.

I felt the testosterone flowing between the two of them, and I knew that we’d pushed the boundaries enough for one night. I’d always thought there was evil in Martin Pernickle’s dark eyes, and I didn’t like the way they now fell to the discarded steak knife as he answered slowly.

“If you value your life, you won’t run.”

Straight and to the point. My hand on Roman’s arm wasn’t needed, he knew when to let something go, and this was one of those times. I followed him out of the kitchen and down the hall, not daring to look back at the man whose eyes were still on my back. We were only a paycheck to him, and I knew he meant what he’d said. I wanted to reach out and touch Roman’s silky brown locks as he tossed one last look over his shoulder at me, but I didn’t. He disappeared into his room, and I went into mine, closing the door behind me.

I didn’t know how they expected to me to go to school, and take care of the baby. Martin Pernickle hadn’t said. During the day Jo worked, and I knew there was a babysitter, but how would I contact her? Would she expect payment, or had they handled that already? The questions tumbled around in my head, but there was no making sense of it. The Pernickle’s had never taken a trip before, and I certainly never expected them to leave us here on our own. I knew without looking that there wasn’t much food in the refrigerator, not that they ever fed us much anyway. Something just wasn’t right; I felt it in my gut.

“Mom, Dad… I need you. I don’t know what to do…” I whispered out loud, settling myself on the cot opposite the sleeping twins.

Ranger jumped as I laid him on top of me, my arms curling over his tiny body to keep him from rolling off. I couldn’t feel their presence here, like I did in the graveyard, but I hoped…especially after today… I listened for something, anything that would qualify as a sign from either of them, but the only sounds that reached me was Jo Pernickle’s hushed whispers. They were arguing about something, but I only caught pieces of the conversation.

“She can’t know…”

“I wasn’t going…”

“You need to keep it together…”

“If it doesn’t happen now, then we’re…”

Their voices faded as they moved from their bedroom and back into the kitchen. I heard keys jingling, and then the sound of Martin Pernickle’s truck being started. I wanted to wish them dead…wish that they wrecked in the snow, or wish that they never returned, but I couldn’t… I wanted to believe that they were family to someone, and I would never want that someone to feel the hurt I lived with every day.

The noise outside had alerted the dogs, and I could hear them all barking at once now, the sound even more ferocious than usual. I’d never known anyone to hunt with pit bulls, but Martin did, starving them for days before a hunt so that they were blood thirsty. Why he’d instructed me to feed them now was beyond me. He knew I never even went into the backyard, much less near the kennel, and with them barking like that, I wouldn’t start now. I listened for what felt like another hour, before I finally heard the back door slam shut, the truck pulling slowly out of the yard shortly after that.