Dear Dad

December 24th

December 24th,

            Once again, no mom on Christmas Eve.  I really hate her job sometimes.  I decided to surprise Anabella with her Christmas present early.  Usually we exchange gifts on Christmas but I thought this year I could give it to her on Christmas eve.

            I walked up to her house as the cold breeze blew across my face.  I knocked on the door.  No one answered.  The lights were on, someone was definitely home.  I knocked again, still no answer.  I rang the bell.  I didn’t even hear footsteps.  I opened the door and walked in.  “Hello?”  I shouted.  “Anyone home? Anabella, Mr. Risome, anyone?”  There was still no answer.

            I walked into the parlor and shut the door.  I looked around.  The tree was light up, the table was set, but there was not a person in sight.  The floor creaked as I stepped into the living room where the tree was.  There were several empty bottles on the table.  That wasn’t good.  I heard a crash from upstairs.  I ran.  I ran as fast as I possibly could.  I ran up the stairs to Anabella’s room.  I swung the door open.  There was no one there.  I ran across the long hall to the master bedroom.  I placed my head on the door and listened.  There was another crash followed by yelling of words I do not wish to ever repeat.  I opened the door. 

           The sight that lay before me will never be erased from my memory.  I found Anabella sitting up against the far wall.  She was badly bruised and cut up.  I found her father standing in front of her, drunker than anyone I had ever seen in my life.  There was shattered glass all over the floor that had most likely once been a vase, each piece showing a reflection of the scene that was in front of me.  Mr. Risome turned and stared at me.  I thought quickly and did what any sensible person would have done in this situation.  I walked slowly and calmly up to Mr. Risome.  Neither he nor Anabella moved an inch.  I stood in front of him for several seconds with a look of disgust on my face.  Then in one quick sudden movement I punched him straight in the face.  He was out cold.

          I rushed over to Anabella.  She still did not move.  She sat frozen.  “Anabella?”  I said quietly and calmly.  She slowly turned her head towards me.  She looked me in the eyes.  I thought I knew her pain before, but now as she looked straight through my eyes into my soul I could actually feel it.  I could feel the hurt.  I could feel the heaviness.  It dragged my heart down into my stomach and made me sick with disgust for the man who did this.  The man who had taken the sweet little happy girl I had once known and took away everything from her.  He had taken away her innocence, he had taken away her joy in life, he had taken away her feeling of safety, and he had taken away her ability to put trust into anyone.  There was nothing left anymore but pain and fright.

          Her eyes started to tear.  She grabbed around my neck and started sobbing on my shoulder.  I lifted her into my lap and held her in my arms the way you would hold a small child when they were afraid of something like the dark or monsters.  The only difference was, she wasn’t afraid of the dark or monsters hiding under her bed.  She was afraid of the world.  She was afraid of the people out there, the people who don’t realize that this is life.  This is not a game, there’s no do over button, there’s no restart.  This is happening now and there’s no way to change what’s happened.  She was afraid of these people who think that their actions only affect them but they don’t.  They affect everyone that’s involved.  She was afraid of these people.  She was afraid of their actions.  She was afraid of what they could do.  She was afraid.  She was just plain afraid.

          I carried her into the bathroom, sat her in the counter next to the sink and cleaned up her cuts.  She stared sadly off into the corner of the room.  I kissed the scratch on her left arm that ran from her shoulder to her elbow.  She looked at me.  She was still crying.  I hugged her.  She cried some more.  I cried with her.  “I’m so sorry.”  I whispered.  She backed up.  ‘Why are you sorry?  There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this.  Thank you though.  You did what I’ve wanted to do for so long and you probably saved my life.’

“You should really be taken to the hospital for that cut.”  I said running my finger over the long cut on her arm.

 ‘No,’ she signed and shook her head.

“Why not?  It’s pretty bad and probably needs stitches.”

‘No!  If we go to the hospital they’re going to ask how this happened and then I’m going to have to tell them what happened.  If I do that they’re going to have me taken away from my dad.  I can’t be taken away.  I can’t leave this town.  I can’t leave this place where I’ve grown up.  Most of all I can’t leave you.’

“Then get out of here at least!  Get out of this house, get away from him.”

‘I’ve got nowhere to go, Rhyder.  I have no family.  They’re all gone or dead.  The only relative I know of is my uncle who lives across the country in Maine and has been in jail for the past three years.’

“Then come with me.  I’m sure my mom will be fine with it if we tell her the situation.  You just need to get away from here.  I can’t let you risk getting hurt again.”  She hugged me tight and cried more.  I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to her room where she packed a small bag with everything she needed.  We walked back to my house together.  I kept my arm around her the whole time, half because it was cold and half because I wanted to protect her from anything and everything out there in this suddenly frightening world.  We walked in the house and for the first time in the past four years my mom had been told to go home and enjoy Christmas with her son.  We explained everything to her, and I mean everything.  We told her about the drinking, about the abuse, about tonight, and about why she can’t tell anyone.  She cried and she agreed to let Anabella stay. We all hugged.  The clock in our dining room struck midnight.  I whispered to Anabella, “Merry Christmas.”