Trent starts the car and backs out of the driveway. As he slowly leaves, a part of me finally manages to breathe.
“Are you okay?” Trent asks.
I simply nod and smile at him, before turning my head and watch the house that sucked my soul, slowly disappear from my view.
Trent rests his hand on my thigh and squeezes softly bringing my attention back to him. “It’ll be alright, Lily, I’ll look after you.”
A lump of uncertainty forms and sits in my throat, a cloud of questions hangs over my head. But I also feel the weight of the world gradually lifting off my shoulders as Trent gets further away from my father’s house.
The ride to Trent’s house is silent. Other than the occasional tightening of his hand on my thigh, nothing much is said. I simply sit, stunned I’ll never go back there again, but relieved maybe I’ll find safety.
Fifteen minutes after leaving, Trent pulls onto a street lined with lush, green lawns. The moonlight only hints at the true intensity of the colors, and I can’t wait to see it tomorrow when the sun rises. The houses are fairly close together, but all well cared for. A few proudly fly the American flag from their porches.
It’s peaceful here, serene. I already love it.
“We’re here,” Trent says as he pulls into the driveway of a beautiful white home, meticulously cared for. “Come on. Mom and Dad are waiting.” He gets out and rounds the car, opening my door and helping me out.
Winding my arm around his neck, I let Trent lead me inside.
My legs are aching, and my entire body protests in pain. My head thumps with each step I take, and all I want to do is lie down and let today’s events disappear.
“Mom, Dad,” Trent calls.
I hear footsteps upstairs, and a lady wearing a dressing gown comes down the wooden stairs, followed closely by an older version of Trent. The man has thick salt-and-pepper hair, and a stern scowl on his face.
“Welcome, Lily,” his mom says as she comes to hug me.
I don’t even know what to call her. “Thank you, ma’am,” I say, but flinch from the pain in my leg.
“You can call me, Mrs. Hackly,” she says and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, dear, let’s get you cleaned up.” She begins to lead me toward the back of their house, and suddenly I’m adrift. Have I woken in an alternate universe? One with people who don’t tell me how ugly and stupid I am?
I look behind me, trying to search out Trent. “Mom, will look after you,” he says, as she continues to lead me down the hallway.
“Why did you bring her here?” I hear Trent’s dad ask.
“I couldn’t leave her there. Can’t you see that?” Trent whispers, though I can still hear.
“Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Lily? Do you have family?” Mrs. Hackly asks. I’m sure it’s to stop me trying to listen to Trent and his dad’s conversation.
“No, ma’am. It’s just me and my dad. But after tonight, I’m not sure I can go back there.”
She leads me into the bathroom, and sits me down on the closed toilet lid. “Let’s have a look.” She stands back and looks at me, bringing her hand up to glide over her face. Her long, brown hair is up in a perfect ponytail, and it strikes me as odd that so late in the night, her hair is flawless. “I think I have something here to help you with your wounds, but you’ll need to take your clothes off, okay?” she asks as she takes a cautious step toward me.
“Um.” I don’t know what to say. She’s offering to help me, something no one’s ever done before. “Okay.”
She takes another step closer to me, and I notice her face has make-up on it. Everything I’ve heard about and seen on girls in school. Eyeliner, eyeshadow, foundation and even a light lipstick. I can’t help but stare at her and wonder why she’d be almost perfect and ready to go out as if she’s on call to go somewhere.
Mrs. Hackly helps me up, and assists me in stripping my worn clothes off. “I have some clothes here that will fit you. Once I dress these wounds, I’ll get them for you.” She smiles at me, and it’s so soft and caring. “It’s alright, Lily, I won’t hurt you,” she says to me.
For a fleeting second, the fact that she didn’t say ‘we won’t hurt you’ plays on my mind. My suspicious and overly wary mind is telling me something’s not right. Why would she not say ‘we’ but only say ‘I’?
As I stand, stripped of my clothes, Mrs. Hackly brings out a large plastic container taking up the entire bottom of the vanity unit in the bathroom. She props it up near the sink and opens the lid. Peering over I see it’s sectioned out with every type of bandage, ointment, and medical aid that could fit inside it.