Love Rewards The Brave by Anya Monroe

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