Darkthorn’s Blog

“It’s your fault.” Tom shouted. “My wife, my Anna, is dead because of you. I wish you hadn’t been born.” I looked away, not sure as always, how to respond to the family argument in front of my eyes. I shrank back into the worn sofa. Not for the first time, I thought about the way things were before Anna died. The furniture had been well kept, the sofa still canary yellow, the chairs bright with polish, and the girl was happy. As my eyes roved past the girl and her father the argument continued as it always did: the girl refusing to agree with Tom’s drunken ravings. But this time, as he reached out to throttle her, she kicked out at him, her foot connecting solidly with his groin.
I marvelled at her strength. All that running she had been doing for the school team was paying off. The girl turned and left through the open front door, breaking into a steady jog. Tom continued to shout abuse at her retreating back.
“Stupid girl. Just like your mother; always leaving at the first sign of trouble. Sal’s the only one who does any good around here, better daughter than my own blood.”
The girl didn’t turn, she kept on running. I could see the tears brimming in her eyes. I followed her out, trying to keep up.
“Stop. Wait for me.” I said, floundering to a halt. The girl looked at me.
“Hell. Why didn’t you stop him?” she accused. “You watched the whole thing”.
“You know I can’t interfere. He has more power over me than he does you.”
“Bull.”
“I would have lost my job if I had. You know that.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t go back. I couldn’t put up with another minute of it.”
“Oh honey, things can’t be that bad. I’m sure he won’t remember tomorrow.”
“Now that I have spoken out I’m not putting up with his crud anymore.”
“What are you going to do? Live on the streets until you get sent back into his clutches? Let the authorities put you in a foster home?”
The girl crumpled. She wailed and screamed, the unshed tears of the last few months pouring down her face. I softened, a wave of compassion overtaking my doubts. I knew that she would be ok, she was a strong one.
“I’m going for a run before school,” she said. “Can you get me my bag?”
“Sure. Where is it?”
“In my room.”
“In that pigsty? How am I going to find it in there? The one place I can’t clean!”
The girl smiled weakly though her tears. “I know you’ll find it Sal. I can always depend on you to set things right.”
I stiffened, thinking that she was going to ask me to do something I couldn’t. Sleeping with Tom wasn’t going to get her out of trouble this time surely. I remembered when she had been caught with ecstasy at school. The principal had rung and I wasn’t quick enough to get the phone before he answered. I remembered that when the girl had gotten home Tom had hit her with no warning. She had refused to go back to school with her broken arm and nose.