Taking her hand, he walked her into the bedroom, where a single mattress lay on the floor. He motioned for her to lie down and crawled in after her, spooning Charlie’s back to his chest.
The moonlight shone down on a corner of the bed, illuminating the contrast of her wavy auburn hair against the rough cotton of his white sheets. The moon was almost full, and as Jesse stared through it, he lightly rubbed his thumb along her hip. She sniffed.
He began grinding his teeth and feeling antsy. He knew what he was about to confess to her, but he couldn’t find the words to do it.
“Tell me,” she said with another sniff.
Where do I even begin? How much do I say? Is she going to run? Keep it simple, dickhead. Otherwise you’re risking too much.
“Mom was a lot like me,” he started. Taking a deep breath, he buried his face in the crook of her neck for a minute before continuing. “But she was much milder, not so…erratic. She’d get depressed once, maybe twice a year. But her mania wasn’t as out of control as mine can get. She’d usually just march around the house cleaning and talking a lot.
But, Dad…he was a different story.” He sighed and rolled onto his back. His arms went up as he locked his fingers behind his neck. Charlie rolled over to face him and shadows played along his strong, moonlit features.
His lips turned up into a snarl and his eyes glared at the ceiling. “He was a prick,” he said sharply.
Charlie remained unmoving, unwilling to give Jesse a moment of hesitation.
His eyes were shifting and disordered as he traced the marks that branded his memories. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and began forcing out the words. “He was an on-again, off-again drunk. He’d sober up for a few months and then drink for a few more. I didn’t trust him with either my mom or my sister,” he said, the pace of his words quickening. “I stayed home a lot and just sat quietly in the corner, waiting, anticipating his fury. He would stare at us like we were brought to this earth to destroy him. Almost like a bubble filled with tension at all times, I never knew when he was gonna pop.” Jesse kept his eyes on the ceiling and took out his labret. After placing the stud on the floor, he continued. “I was five years older than Mandy, my sister. I still remember the first thought I had when she was born. Dad brought me to the hospital to visit Mom, and she was holding my little sister in her arms when I walked into the room. When—” he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, his eyes pained as he recollected the moment, “when I looked into her big blue eyes, I leaned in and whispered, ‘It’s okay, I’ll protect you. I have an invisible blanket so they can’t see us.’” His head snapped away from Charlie’s stare and he wiped his eyes. Too much. This is too much. Wrap it up . He cleared his throat and continued quickly. “After Mandy was born, Dad got worse. He hardly ever put the bottle down. He was a mean old bastard. He’d lock us in closets, put a padlock on the fridge, burn us with his cigarettes. See here,” he pointed to his forearm, buried under his tattoo of the tiny dancer, “a perfectly round little reminder of my exquisite childhood,” he gnarled through gritted teeth.
Jesse sat up on the edge of the bed, combing his fingers through his hair, stopping to scratch his scalp forcefully. “Most of this shit I can’t even remember clearly. It’s just what I’ve surmised from years of nightmares; at night, when I wake up, and sometimes during the day when I’ve been awake for hours.” His voice grew softer. “But that night…” He swept his hand across his chest, looking down at the grease burns under his nipple. “That night I’ll remember until the day I die.” He lit a cigarette and bowed his head as he exhaled, filling the small room with smoke.
“After they found Mandy, they rushed her to the hospital. I don’t remember much after that. But before that
The moonlight shone down on a corner of the bed, illuminating the contrast of her wavy auburn hair against the rough cotton of his white sheets. The moon was almost full, and as Jesse stared through it, he lightly rubbed his thumb along her hip. She sniffed.
He began grinding his teeth and feeling antsy. He knew what he was about to confess to her, but he couldn’t find the words to do it.
“Tell me,” she said with another sniff.
Where do I even begin? How much do I say? Is she going to run? Keep it simple, dickhead. Otherwise you’re risking too much.
“Mom was a lot like me,” he started. Taking a deep breath, he buried his face in the crook of her neck for a minute before continuing. “But she was much milder, not so…erratic. She’d get depressed once, maybe twice a year. But her mania wasn’t as out of control as mine can get. She’d usually just march around the house cleaning and talking a lot.
But, Dad…he was a different story.” He sighed and rolled onto his back. His arms went up as he locked his fingers behind his neck. Charlie rolled over to face him and shadows played along his strong, moonlit features.
His lips turned up into a snarl and his eyes glared at the ceiling. “He was a prick,” he said sharply.
Charlie remained unmoving, unwilling to give Jesse a moment of hesitation.
His eyes were shifting and disordered as he traced the marks that branded his memories. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and began forcing out the words. “He was an on-again, off-again drunk. He’d sober up for a few months and then drink for a few more. I didn’t trust him with either my mom or my sister,” he said, the pace of his words quickening. “I stayed home a lot and just sat quietly in the corner, waiting, anticipating his fury. He would stare at us like we were brought to this earth to destroy him. Almost like a bubble filled with tension at all times, I never knew when he was gonna pop.” Jesse kept his eyes on the ceiling and took out his labret. After placing the stud on the floor, he continued. “I was five years older than Mandy, my sister. I still remember the first thought I had when she was born. Dad brought me to the hospital to visit Mom, and she was holding my little sister in her arms when I walked into the room. When—” he paused to swallow the lump in his throat, his eyes pained as he recollected the moment, “when I looked into her big blue eyes, I leaned in and whispered, ‘It’s okay, I’ll protect you. I have an invisible blanket so they can’t see us.’” His head snapped away from Charlie’s stare and he wiped his eyes. Too much. This is too much. Wrap it up . He cleared his throat and continued quickly. “After Mandy was born, Dad got worse. He hardly ever put the bottle down. He was a mean old bastard. He’d lock us in closets, put a padlock on the fridge, burn us with his cigarettes. See here,” he pointed to his forearm, buried under his tattoo of the tiny dancer, “a perfectly round little reminder of my exquisite childhood,” he gnarled through gritted teeth.
Jesse sat up on the edge of the bed, combing his fingers through his hair, stopping to scratch his scalp forcefully. “Most of this shit I can’t even remember clearly. It’s just what I’ve surmised from years of nightmares; at night, when I wake up, and sometimes during the day when I’ve been awake for hours.” His voice grew softer. “But that night…” He swept his hand across his chest, looking down at the grease burns under his nipple. “That night I’ll remember until the day I die.” He lit a cigarette and bowed his head as he exhaled, filling the small room with smoke.
“After they found Mandy, they rushed her to the hospital. I don’t remember much after that. But before that
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