“Are you sick?” he asks in a gentler voice.
“Dad, he…” I can feel the vomit moving slowly. It wants to come up but it’s stalled, not ready to be expelled yet. “He…he… hit.” And the bile pushes through, and soils my clothes. “Sorry, I’m so sorry,” I begin to cry. I don’t want Trent mad with me, too.
“Lily!” he screams into the phone as my stomach continues to churn and eject the very little thing in there. “Hold on, Lily. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The soft cloak of black is returning. Not as fast as it was before, but just like a curtain closing on the final act at the theatre, it begins to fall. “I don’t feel…” And once again, the peaceful black sings to me. A love song filled with rare beauty, of peace, and something I’ve never experienced before. Love.
“Lily. Lily. Where are you?” It’s not Dad’s voice, it sounds sweeter. Someone who’s calling me not to hurt me, but to help me. “LILY!” Such a desperate plea to find me.
“Here,” I try to yell. But my voice is tiny, the sound barely whispering past my lips.
The darkness is desperate to drag me under again. It’s clawing its way through my veins, desperate to strangle whatever fight I have in me.
But I’m only seventeen, and I don’t want to live in fear anymore. I may not deserve something better, I may never find it, but I can’t keep living blanketed under hate.
“Here,” I yell, finding a strength in me I don’t think I’ve ever had. “I’m here, Trent.”
“Sweetheart, what the hell happened?” Trent says as he falls to the floor and caresses my face. He strokes my hair and moves it off my face.
“D-d-dad,” I manage to whimper. “He, he, h-hit me,” I say through my strained breath.
“Come on, you’re coming with me. Where’s your suitcase, so I can pack your clothes?” He stands from where he was kneeling beside me and looks around my room. “Jesus, Lily how the hell do you live like this?”
I’m completely horrified and embarrassed about where I live. My bare room is a physical representation of my life. So empty and devoid of anything that could make me human, anything allowing me to identify with people. Anything that could make me a person and let me find my own personality.
“I don’t have much,” I say through the tears threatening to break through.
“You don’t need anything, just take my hand and come with me,” he says, as he turns and offers me his hand.
This is my choice, possibly my last chance to get out of here alive and finally be able to breathe freely, without fear. I hesitantly lift my hand and slowly place it into Trent’s warm palm. He leans down, winds his arm around my waist and lifts me.
“Ahhh,” I cry in pain.
“Where does it hurt?” He eases me up and stands beside me, supporting my body weight.
“My legs and arms hurt.” I look at Trent and his eyebrows are knit together as he studies my features. His brown eyes dart all over my face, taking in everything Dad’s done. “Lily,” he says, then sighs in a way I think he’s disgusted with me.
“I’m sorry.” I try and fix my hair so he can’t see any part of my face, but I wince in pain as I lift my arm to move my hair.
“Don’t,” he says, as he walks us out of my room.
I look in the family room, Dad and the woman aren’t here, but the smell of sex is thick in the air. My eyes go directly to the hole in the wall, and instantly vomit rises and threatens to erupt. “Please, get me out of here.”
Trent looks at me and nods his head. No more words need to be said. He’s seen the worst of me, the darkest shadow I live under and the extremes of my daily nightmare.
He takes most of my weight as he leads me outside. The night is dark and silent. The cold touches me right down to my bones, horror filling every part of my mind. Or maybe it’s not horror that’s consuming me. Maybe it’s something else.
The taste of freedom.
I’m finally going to leave the house I’ve been chained to all my life. My one safety-net had never really been safe. Not once have I ever felt anything but hate and resentment toward me while living here. Never have I been able to breathe in clean air and feel it travel through me, caress and embrace me. I’ve never felt welcome or had a sense of belonging.
“Watch your head, Lily,” Trent says as he helps me into his car.
I sit back in the passenger seat and look at the house I’ve lived in all my life. No sign of life comes from it. The little grass on the front lawn is brown and dead. The faded blue weatherboard on the house looks like it’s about to fall down. If you drove past my house, you’d swear squatters had taken up residence, not a family.