Jennie - Eight years old
"Shh, you'll get us caught."
"No one's going to find us. Don't be such a baby, Jen."
"I'm not a baby," my voice raises a little with denial.
I hate when Lisa calls me a baby. I'm eight years old and can do a ton of things for myself. Like, daddy lets me ride my bike around the neighborhood all alone. Well, really until the end of the street, but still. Plus, grownups say I have a mature soul; whatever that means. It doesn't sound babyish, though.
"No talking until we get outside," she whispers. She's so bossy. But, she is two years older than me, so I guess, technically, she is in charge. Plus, she's my best friend, so I overlook these things.
We duck out the French door in the kitchen, into the dark, trying our best not to make a sound.
This probably isn't a good idea. Rescue the princess is a game we play often but never at night.
The moon plays peekaboo in the cloud-covered sky, and we slip like mist across the damp grass, hopefully without being seen by the guards.
If my father found us sneaking out, we'd probably be murdered. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. I've heard the staff whispering when they think I'm not listening. Once, I asked my mother if he's a bad man, and she told me never to say it again. She said he protects us from the other bad people of the world. So, I guess he's good to us.
Well, good to me, anyways. He doesn't care much for Lisa. Mom says he only tolerates her because she's Hannah's daughter. Hannah's our maid, tall with beautiful red hair, and one of the nicest women I've ever met. And if I'm being honest, sometimes, when she brushes my long brown hair, I pretend she's my mother.
Don't get me wrong, I love my mom, but she's always busy entertaining my dad's boring friends when she's not working at his office.
"This way," Lisa directs, leading me down the uneven cobblestone path that cuts through the backyard.
She grabs my hand when I hesitate, and like always, I feel as if nothing can harm me out here with her.
"We're almost there," she reassures, taking us away from the safety of the big brick house, toward the towering woods.
"Maybe we shouldn't," I hedge.
Unsure, I peek over my shoulder for a moment. Like a beacon calling me home, a light flickers through an upstairs window.
"No turning back." Lisa's blue eyes glow with anticipation of all the things I'm afraid of as she tugs me along. She's the opposite of me: fearless.
A blanket of twigs snap beneath our sneakers as Lisa tightens her grip on my sweaty hand. Crickets chirp and things I don't want to think about rustle through the darkness as we move further than I've ever been through the knotty trunks.
A small cabin, in a clearing, comes into view, and she rushes up the rickety stairs, to the front door, dropping my hand somewhere along the way.
Spooky shadows lurk inside the windows, and I hang back a bit, my sneakers cemented to the earth. "What's in there?"
"Don't be a fraidy cat."
"I'm not afraid." I raise my chin and step on the first wooden plank leading up to a small porch.
She opens the door. "Ready?"
I'm not, but I'll never let her know it, so I continue on and follow her into the unknown.
She flicks her flashlight on and scans the room. The dark walls are bare, and a lone chair sits like a throne in the middle of the room with steel handcuffs attached to both arms.
"What is this place?"
"I don't know," she answers, looking over at me. "I followed your dad and his friends the other day down here."
"Lisa, we shouldn't be here. I don't think good things happen in this place. I don't like it here."
She grabs my arm, her blue eyes holding mine. "One day, I'll take you away from your father and all the bad things."
Lisa has never liked daddy either. His cold hard stare. The gruff in his voice when he yells at her for everything.
My father calls her a ...nuisance.
"What if I don't want to leave?"
"What could you possibly like about living with your father?"
I don't get to answer because there's a snap of a tree branch outside.
"Hide," she says, flicking off her flashlight. We crouch by the far wall of the small cabin, behind a table of tools I don't fully understand.
The front door flies open. "Who's in here?" The sound of my father's voice startles us both. Lisa, eyes loaded with fear, slaps a hand over my mouth before I can answer.
Tucking my knees to my chest, I try to make myself disappear. I squeeze my eyes shut, anything to make me go away. My father will probably spank me for being out here, maybe ground me forever from playing outside, but it's nothing compared to what he'll do to Lisa.
He might even go so far as to fire her mother.
When my father shines his light around the room, we shrink back into the small alcove of the side. Footsteps fall faster to our hiding spot, and Lisa is yanked up by her hoodie.
"You're hiding like a rat," my father bites out. "Why are you in here?"
Lisa's eyes meet mine, and she gives a little shake of her head, warning me to stay silent. "Answer me," he yells so loud it feels like the walls vibrate.
"I was just exploring," Lisa finally responds.
"Exploring?" My father drags her to the chair and drops her down in it. "Come out of there, Jennie," he orders.
Reluctantly, I stand from my hiding spot. He flips on the light, and I squint against the fluorescent glare. He's scary when he's angry. Pinched face, flaring nostrils. And right now, he's madder than I've ever seen him. Hannah says to count when I'm afraid or upset and when I'm finished, it won't seem so bad. So, I count the steps over to him in my head to calm myself.
One.
Two.
Three.
I don't want to be a baby, but the tears start falling.
Four.
Five.
He grips my arm and yanks me in front of Lisa. "What are you doing here, Jennie?"
Through my tears, I answer. "I'm only eight, you can't expect me to make good choices."
He pulls his leather belt free from the loops… and then whips me.
Over and over.
Until the numbers in my head jumble.
Until I see little stars behind my squeezed eyelids.
Until I cry out I won't do it again.
"Stop," Lisa yells. "It's not her fault. Punish me."
"This is your punishment, Lisa," my father shouts.
Finally, after a few more minutes, the hits cease, but the sting and burn continues so fierce I rub my bottom. I'm sure Lisa really thinks I'm a baby now; I can't stop the shudders waffling my frame or the hiccuping sobs.
My father leans down, an inch from Lisa's stricken face, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. "Remember this lesson."
Lisa doesn't look at me on the entire walk back. My father strides ahead of us across the lawn and when he's out of ear shot, Lisa takes my hand.
"One day, Jennie, I will take you away from him."
I don't say a word. The look in her eyes tells me she isn't kidding.