Father beat me for being late for dinner. He ignored the fact that I was covered in blood. He ignored the fact that I'd been unconscious and near dead when I was found. He listened to my brothers though, agreed with the claims that I'd stolen biscuits, then beaten James. Ha. Yeah, right. Like I could ever get James.
I don't understand why Father sides with them. Leo, a neighbour who had the honour of being the only child to ever come to my birthday, said that Father though it was my fault that Mother died. She died giving birth to me. I thought that was stupid. It wasn't my fault. She'd had cancer when pregnant with me, and only just lived through birth. And even if it was my fault, it was ten years ago, shouldn't they be over it by now?
"Oi, Claire, come here!" called Roger.
I flinched at his voice, but ambled over, like a mindless robot. He hit me hard over the head.
"Father was very mad, wasn't he, Claire-bear? And you don't like that, do you?"
I shook my head, though I wasn't sure he'd noticed, as the rest of my body shook with it.
Fred appeared from behind a tree, axe in his hand. I screamed as hard as I could, pulling away from Roger, kicking and howling. They were going to kill me. I was going to die.
Fred laughed, and James came, holding me down. I sobbed and thrashed, howled and kicked. What had I done to make them this mad?
"Stop struggling, Claire. We won't hurt you."
The rest of the boys laughed icily. I was shaking, still fighting, despite Jack's words. Ed kicked me hard in the head. I was face-down in the dirt and couldn't tell where they were coming from. I whimpered. Another kick. I couldn't tell who it was from, as unconsciousness claimed me for the second time that day.