10 years old

"Dembe?" Lizzie whispered as she slowly cracked open the door to his bedroom. His room was pitch black and she couldn't see a thing.

"Dem—"

"What is it, Elizabeth?"

Lizzie could hear the springs of his mattress creaking as he shifted. She assumed he was sitting up and walked to his bed, knowing the layout of the room from memory.

"I can't sleep." Lizzie traced the scar on her wrist with the thumb of her other hand as she shifted awkwardly on her feet. "Can I stay with you?"

She was met with silence. Lizzie waited in the dark for a beat or two but when no other sounds were forthcoming from the bed, she went to turn around.

"Nevermind, sorry I woke you."

"Wait, Elizabeth. Lizzie. You can stay."

Lizzie smiled even though she doubted he could see it and jumped into his bed. She could hear him chuckle as she hurried under the blankets to escape the Nebraska cold. As she snuggled in the blankets, she heard him shift to make room for her.

"I'm sorry that I took so long to answer. I am still getting used to … this." She heard him whisper in the dark.

"It's okay. I'm still getting used to having a big brother."

"I am enjoying being your big brother. Even if you do threaten to stab me with sharp objects." His voice smiled.

"Well, I'm your sister. I gotta say that stuff. It's the rule."

"Ah yes, the rule." He was definitely laughing that time, though he sobered up quickly. "What happened, Elizabeth? Did you have a bad dream?"

She didn't want to answer. She hated it. Running her thumb along her scar under the protection of the covers, she spoke, "Yea. Nightmare."

"Do you wish to speak about it."

She didn't. For a long time they lay in silence, neither of them willing to fall asleep.

"Did daddy ever tell you why he left me with Sam?" She could hear the scratch of his short hair against his pillow as he shook his head.

"There was a fire. I don't remember much. But I remember daddy saved me. He got hurt really bad though. Sometimes … sometimes I hear her screaming. My mom. And sometimes Daddy doesn't get back up." The words tumble from her and she takes a deep breath before a sniffle escapes. Under the covers, Dembe's hand clasps hers in comfort.

"I'm sorry that happened, Elizabeth. But you are safe. Mr. Raymond is safe." Lizzie merely nodded her head in agreement. Soon they fell asleep, their hands still clasped under the blankets.

/\/\/\/\/\

11 years old

Lizzie couldn't withhold the gasp as she came up the stairs. Dembe had just come out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and was heading to his room. What shocked her, however was that he wasn't wearing a shirt. He always wore a shirt. He was usually fully dressed when he came out of the bathroom. Even on the hottest days of summer, he always had at least a t-shirt on.

Dembe spun around quickly at the sound of her gasp. "Elizabeth, I didn't think you'd be home from practice yet."

"What was that Dembe? What's on your back?" She demanded.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." Dembe carefully put his back to the wall, blocking her from seeing it as she moved closer.

"Dembe. Let me see your back. Please." Dembe stared at her, as if afraid. Finally, swallowing thickly, he turned around, leaning his head against the wall.

Lizzie had to reach up to touch his shoulder. The moment she touched the weird squiggly scar, she gasped, pulling her hand away in horror.

"Someone branded you?!" She lived in rural Nebraska. Lizzie saw enough cows to know what a branding looked like. "Who? When?"

"Lizzie—"

"Does Daddy know?"

Dembe sighed, turning around as he wiped a hand over his face.

"Yes. He's the one that saved me."

"From what? Saved you from what?"

"Elizabeth, you are much too young. I wish to hide you from these things. And… I do not feel that I can tell you yet."

"Dembe, you can tell me anything! I'm 11! I can take it!"

Dembe smiled bitterly at this, shaking his head.

"That may be true, but I wish to shield you anyway. And I meant that I do not think I can give voice to what I went through. Not yet."

/\/\/\/\/\

"Daddy did you know?" She had been pacing the living room, calling Red until he picked up.

"Did I know what? Honey, this isn't a great time. If this isn't an emerg—"

"About Dembe's back! He was branded, Daddy!" Her voice broke as she allowed the tears for her brother to finally fall. He had been hurt. She could barely stand to think of the agony he must have been in as his skin was burned. She knew that agony. She remembered every time she touched her scar. For someone to do that to her brother on purpose, with the intent of leaving their mark, it didn't bear thinking about.

There was silence on the line and just as she began to think he had hung up she heard a rustling then what seemed like a door closing.

"Lizzie, that isn't my story to tell."

"But you knew."

"Yes, I knew."

"How could you not tell me?" She screeched. "He's my brother!"

"Again, Lizzie, this isn't my story to tell. I'm sorry Lizzie. When I brought him to you and Sam, I told you he had a hard life. I was not exaggerating." She could hear him sigh over the phone.

"Now Lizzie, this isn't my story to tell. Nor do I think that you're old enough to hear it—"

She hung up the phone.


A little shorter than usual, but I wanted to leave it here as a good lead up to the next chapter. Reviews are my fuel.