room
to sleep all day.
But when I saw blood in my
pants
the parts I wanted to pretend weren’t there,
the hurt and the
hush-hush
and the “don’t you dare
say a word”
I realized it was more
than making Dad mad-
it was about Dad being bad.
Maybe other girls would have known
wrong from right
what to tell
what shouldn’t be locked away
tight.
But I was always at home
always alone with Benji and Mom and Dad.
See, my family––
maybe we didn’t eat together,
but we were always together.
In the same four walls
no friends came to call.
So I didn’t know the jokes
the girls at school spoke
about.
Laughed about.
If I saw two kids kissing
in
the hall of the middle school,
I’d always looked away
not ever wanting to stay
around
that.
Because seeing it made me feel
sick inside
make me want to hide
because
I
Didn’t
Understand.
75.
But when I saw that blood,
all the things I tried so hard
to block out
not talk about
forget about
suddenly meant more than I ever
wanted to know.
I spent the entire week
scared shitless.
I was scared for him to know
about the blood.
I didn’t want to make him mad.
So I pretended to be sick in bed
faking a fever and night
sweats
even though
I knew the truth in it.
I was sick .
I felt sick in the
head
as I wrestled all night long with the
demons of
my past
coming up
wrapping around me fast.
Not letting go.
When the blood stopped I knew
what I needed
to do.
76.
“Benji!” I called that day.
The birthday party fantasy
no longer on my radar.
I had bigger fish to fry
like being my Dad’s whore.
And that might sound harsh,
but my edge
came out
that day.
I was sick of it all
my hormones were in a rage
I was just so
over trying to
pacify.
Nothing ever seemed to help.
I wanted to let me go
so we could be a normal family.
so that I could finally breathe.
I decided it was going to start that day.
I had a plan, and I needed to tell Benji
fast.
I picked him up from school,
at nine years old
he thinks he is too big to hold
my hand, but I take it anyway.
He is my one
and only
reason for fighting
for holding on so long.
I’m not letting go of his hand.
I lean my head against his
because I know a way out.
Smiling
because I was finally giving him
what he always talked about ––
escape.
Now that I saw the truth
of it
I had to help us
out of it.
77.
When we got home
the house was quiet.
Like too quiet to be
good.
We tiptoed to our bedrooms
taking our backpacks off.
Stuffing them full, fast.
Benji looking at me
hopefully
as I handed him the money I’d saved.
Twenty-two dollars
my life savings.
We were going to run to
the train
station.
We would sneak on
and hide out
pretend we were
The Box Car Children.
We would be so far gone by
the time
they went looking.
Free.
From him
forever.
78.
Just as we zipped up our packs,
the quiet house got
loud.
And we heard Mom
scream
yell for him to
stop.
I looked at Benji.
Knowing that if we want to go, we are gonna have to run.
Fast
because if they see us here
like this
we were toast.
“Lou-Lou, let’s just go. Please?” Benji pleaded.
His eyes so full of fear
I wish we had never came back here.
We didn’t need the money, we could make it work.
I gesture shhh.
My fingers tight against my mouth.
Not letting the sounds get out.
Then just like
that,
like a
nine-year-old boy,
an accident,
moves his hand too fast.
Causing a stumble and crash
of the matchbox cars he’s trying to
stash
in
his pack.
He looks at me so wide-eyed and scared.
The look is burned to my soul
because I will always
know
how close we were
to getting
out.
79.
Later that night
after our missed-escape
the moon is full.
I’m with Benji on the bottom bunk
holding his hand
singing him a lullaby
his head resting on my neck.
I tell him, in
to sleep all day.
But when I saw blood in my
pants
the parts I wanted to pretend weren’t there,
the hurt and the
hush-hush
and the “don’t you dare
say a word”
I realized it was more
than making Dad mad-
it was about Dad being bad.
Maybe other girls would have known
wrong from right
what to tell
what shouldn’t be locked away
tight.
But I was always at home
always alone with Benji and Mom and Dad.
See, my family––
maybe we didn’t eat together,
but we were always together.
In the same four walls
no friends came to call.
So I didn’t know the jokes
the girls at school spoke
about.
Laughed about.
If I saw two kids kissing
in
the hall of the middle school,
I’d always looked away
not ever wanting to stay
around
that.
Because seeing it made me feel
sick inside
make me want to hide
because
I
Didn’t
Understand.
75.
But when I saw that blood,
all the things I tried so hard
to block out
not talk about
forget about
suddenly meant more than I ever
wanted to know.
I spent the entire week
scared shitless.
I was scared for him to know
about the blood.
I didn’t want to make him mad.
So I pretended to be sick in bed
faking a fever and night
sweats
even though
I knew the truth in it.
I was sick .
I felt sick in the
head
as I wrestled all night long with the
demons of
my past
coming up
wrapping around me fast.
Not letting go.
When the blood stopped I knew
what I needed
to do.
76.
“Benji!” I called that day.
The birthday party fantasy
no longer on my radar.
I had bigger fish to fry
like being my Dad’s whore.
And that might sound harsh,
but my edge
came out
that day.
I was sick of it all
my hormones were in a rage
I was just so
over trying to
pacify.
Nothing ever seemed to help.
I wanted to let me go
so we could be a normal family.
so that I could finally breathe.
I decided it was going to start that day.
I had a plan, and I needed to tell Benji
fast.
I picked him up from school,
at nine years old
he thinks he is too big to hold
my hand, but I take it anyway.
He is my one
and only
reason for fighting
for holding on so long.
I’m not letting go of his hand.
I lean my head against his
because I know a way out.
Smiling
because I was finally giving him
what he always talked about ––
escape.
Now that I saw the truth
of it
I had to help us
out of it.
77.
When we got home
the house was quiet.
Like too quiet to be
good.
We tiptoed to our bedrooms
taking our backpacks off.
Stuffing them full, fast.
Benji looking at me
hopefully
as I handed him the money I’d saved.
Twenty-two dollars
my life savings.
We were going to run to
the train
station.
We would sneak on
and hide out
pretend we were
The Box Car Children.
We would be so far gone by
the time
they went looking.
Free.
From him
forever.
78.
Just as we zipped up our packs,
the quiet house got
loud.
And we heard Mom
scream
yell for him to
stop.
I looked at Benji.
Knowing that if we want to go, we are gonna have to run.
Fast
because if they see us here
like this
we were toast.
“Lou-Lou, let’s just go. Please?” Benji pleaded.
His eyes so full of fear
I wish we had never came back here.
We didn’t need the money, we could make it work.
I gesture shhh.
My fingers tight against my mouth.
Not letting the sounds get out.
Then just like
that,
like a
nine-year-old boy,
an accident,
moves his hand too fast.
Causing a stumble and crash
of the matchbox cars he’s trying to
stash
in
his pack.
He looks at me so wide-eyed and scared.
The look is burned to my soul
because I will always
know
how close we were
to getting
out.
79.
Later that night
after our missed-escape
the moon is full.
I’m with Benji on the bottom bunk
holding his hand
singing him a lullaby
his head resting on my neck.
I tell him, in
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