Chapter One
2004
Lexington, Kentucky
Anna Hale cranked up the volume on her headphones, desperate
to study for her high school English exam scheduled for the morning, but the hypnotic
beat couldn’t mask the loathed voice of her stepfather growing louder by the
second.
“You whore! Sneaking around
and giving me those pious looks. You don’t think I don’t know better. I should
throw you out right now, you and your bitch of a daughter!”
The soft sounds of her mother
trying to pacify him were indistinct, impossible for her to hear.
Pass out already, old man.
She tried forcing her mind on
the textbook, but the lines of printing blurred, making it hard to concentrate.
If the subject at hand was a math or science quiz, she’d ace both without much
effort. And that one computer module they’d had this semester had fascinated her.
She yearned for a career in data processing, discovering all the secrets. That was
if she got a choice. Her stepfather was threatening to make her leave school
early to help bring more money into the household. She rolled her eyes in
disgust. The guy just couldn’t hold down a job. Never his fault, like his
shitty attitude wasn’t a factor. Or that his breath so often stank of booze, and
his body of stale sweat.
The conversation from earlier
between her and her mom bothered her like a harbinger of things to come, making
it harder to focus. “I’ve made arrangements. If anything happens to me—go next
door. Alex and Cindy Pace will look after you. And you get along so well with Josh
and the twins.”
Her mom had talked over Anna’s
every denial of anything ever happening to her. Anna was going to keep her mom safe.
Learn karate or something badass
at the gym to give her the upper hand. But her mom had made her promise and she
had gone along with it. Anna didn’t want her mom worrying more than she already
did, not that she wouldn’t stay and help her if worst came to worst. She’d
never desert her mom. They had to stick together, no matter what.
Another loud series of barks
drew her attention away from her favorite daydream of getting a high-paying job,
of taking her mother far, far away. She’d also warned her to stay out of it,
that her stepfather couldn’t help himself having to work at a job he hated, but
Anna’s stomach churned with the effort. She wiped her damp palms on her patched
jeans, straining to hear, the test long forgotten.
She pressed hard with her fist
through her ragged T-shirt, making the talisman she wore around her neck dig
deep into her chest. It was just a crude image of a wolf stamped into a cheap
metal disk and tied to a bit of cord she’d found lying by the sidewalk, but it
meant something to her, something that reminded her of her namesake, her real
father. Bartley Wolfe.
A loud crashing sound of something
falling erupted downstairs. She dumped the headset and jumped off the bed, then
raced down the narrow staircase in her sock feet, her pulse hammering in her
ears, her head about to explode. She rounded the sharp corner that composed the
L-shaped kitchen and living room, the clean but faded linoleum with most of the
square-shaped pattern worn down to gray splotches, slippery beneath her feet. Her
disgusting bear of a stepfather stood over her mom, his meaty fists raised like
a boxer, his pugnacious face darkened by raw hatred.
The man who liked to fight at
the local gym or bar was not in the ring now, but at home, one that his mother
had tried very hard to make as nice as possible on a shoestring budget. She
could take a few items from the half-bare cupboard and turn them into something
good in no time, having a long-acquired knack for stretching things. The food
was prepared with love, the essential ingredient she always said would keep
them full.
Her mother had fallen to the
floor, or more likely been pushed, knocking over a chrome chair with a torn
cushion that she had duct-taped to keep the stuffing inside. The dingy fabric
was bulging out again like gray matter, the cover torn.
“Mom, are you okay?” She
rushed to her side.
She looked so tiny, so worn
out, though she’d had her when she was only sixteen. She tried to speak and
failed, her mother’s eyes pleading with her. A stream of blood dripped down the
side of her face making Anna’s stomach roil with worry.
“Take my hand. We’ll go next
door. Get help.” She crouched, put her arms around her, and tried to get her to
sit up. Before she could manage it, her stepfather was on her, slamming her
hard and knocking her off her feet.
“You got something coming as
well, you little bitch.”
A ringing in her ears drowned
out any further words, but the blows to her body and face echoed deep inside. She
tried to roll over onto her mother, arms flailing to protect her, and she
partially succeeded just before the world went dark.
The stench of something burning
woke her. It took a few seconds for the haze in her mind to clear, to realize how
dim the light in the kitchen was. She began coughing uncontrollably, her lungs
trying in vain to force the heavy smoke out. Her heart raced with the effort,
eyes streaming tears. Her mother was so still, curled up on her side, her body
half over hers.
“Mom, wake up, we gotta get
out of here!” She crawled onto her knees and shook her shoulder, but she didn’t
move, didn’t respond at all.
The sounds of sirens in the
distance. Help was on the way. But she had to do something. Now. She touched
her throat, felt a faint pulse under her fingertips.
“It’s going to be okay. I’m
going to get you out of here.” She tried to pick her up, but her arms flailed
like a rag doll. She was heavier than she thought.
She’d have to pull her mother along
the floor. At least the smoke was less dense near the ground. Sweat dripped in
her eyes, stinging. She ignored the pain and began tugging her mom toward the
back door. It was only a few feet. If she could just get her outside, into the
fresh air, she would come around.
But she never did.
Hugs, January Bain
Storyteller
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