ANCHOR

Chapter 7

HOPE

   Mel was talking to me, but I wasn't listening. My mind kept flashing back to the boy who had picked the thorns from my skin, the one who made me feel okay when my world began falling apart. I remembered the days after, my little mind tainted and torn with memories of the contorted metal.

     I was on the tire swing, my thin legs lightly tanned, my white skirt flowing from the cool breeze, my nose filled with the scent of newly cut grass. The afternoon sun felt good on my face, and I looked over to the willow tree, which still held all the memories of my father, it's branches sloping and closing off a tiny section from the rest of the world. 2 years since that day.

    The silence was broken with an angry drunken yell, coming from the small, blue house next door. My 9 year old mind was immediately curious, and I managed to make my way to a tiny window. The paint was peeling, and some came off in my palm as I placed my hand on it. The window was slightly ajar, and I had to go on my tippy toes, the dewey grass wetting my feet. I was looking into what seemed like a kitchen, but I was barely paying attention to the surroundings, just the tall, dark haired man mumbling to himself, throwing a glass across the room into a wall, where it shattered into a million peices. I cringed in fear but I remained where I was, observing this old man who seemed to be yelling at someone who wasn't there. His hair was dishelved, his white shirt stained.

    All of a sudden, he came into view. The boy who had helped me under the willow tree. His head was down and he seemed to be afraid of the man who I'd assumed was his father. "I told you to wash the dishes! Why didn't you? You ungrateful son of a bitch!!" I cringed at the words, and couldn't tear my eyes off Sam, seeing a tear running from his eyes. I saw his mouth moving, but I couldn't hear any words. "What did you say?!?!?!" The man asked angrily, stumbling his way across the room to look down at Sam, making the size differencial obvious. "I said," Sam nervously said, "I was walking Derek home from the bus stop."

     The man's eyes got wide with rage and his body tensed. Sam flinched, stepping away from the man, backing into the wall. "He's six! He is old enough to do that by himself! When I tell you to do something, YOU DO IT." Sam was shaking, not looking the man in the eyes.

    Next thing I knew, the man's large fist had connected with Sam's stomach. I watched him fall to the ground, hand on his stomach, with a soft wimper. My heart ached for him. I didn't know what to do.

    So I ran.    

    "Hello?? Hope? Have you even heard a single word I've said?" Mel asked impatiently, snapping my back to reality. "Are you okay? Why are you holding you're stomach?" I looked down to see my hands placed on my t shirt and quickly removed them. "I'm okay." I muttered, suddenly having a strong ache in my stomach as I remembered everything I had kept locked in my brain from years ago.

    He was here. At our school. I needed to see him again.

    Suddenly tomorrow seemed so far away.