Crânio Borboleta (COMPLETED)

Chapter Twelve

Juliette

Clay's mom's name was Delilah. Clay's dad's name was Elijah. Mrs. Mangette was a dentist. Mr. Mangette was a lawyer. Mrs. Mangette had brown short hair and blue eyes and freckles. Mr. Mangette had black hair and green eyes and dimples. Mrs. Mangette was a little taller than me. Mr. Mangette was taller than Parson. They were hilarious. They made me laugh hysterically by the stories they told me during dinner. We ate pizza and drank homemade chocolate milk.

"Please continue to talk, Juliette," Mrs. Mangette pleaded after I told her about Clay at school. "I love your voice."

 "Isn't it so satisfying to hear it crack?" Clay asked.

I grinned nervously. I wasn't given this much attention before.

"Tell us about your real parents." Mr. Mangette suggested.

"Dad," Clay scowled.

I smiled and resting my hand on Clay's thigh underneath the table. "Okay. Um, well, my mom looked exactly like me. People thought I was her doppelganger, that's how similar we were. She had the most amazing singing voice. She was a real free spirit.

"We would sit in fields of wheat and she would always tell me to flow with the wind and let it teach me what the world held. I never knew what she was talking about, but it also somehow made so much sense. She always made sure I was happy.

"We would go into the woods or backyard barefoot in loose, flow-y dresses because that was her favorite thing to wear. "She always called me 'butterfly'. She was my favorite of all time. She was the complete opposite of my father."

"And what was he like?" Mr. Mangette asked.

I chuckled nervously and cleared my throat. "I, uh... "

"Elijah," Mrs. Mangette scowled softly.

"No, it's fine." I said, chuckling. Hot tears burned in my eyes.

"Juliette," Clay said softly, taking my hand.

"Honey?" Mrs. Mangette asked.

"I, uh," I chuckled, clearing my throat. I took a sip of my water that was beside my chocolate milk. "I mean, he had black hair. Brown eyes. Very tall, very muscular. He played football in college, he got a scholarship. But he couldn't be famous or anything because he drank a lot. Used drugs. Got arrested one too many times.

"He and my mom met when they were in high school. She had me at sixteen and dropped out, but let my dad graduate. But he didn't care about school. He got a small two story and I guess things were fine when I was a baby. Around five or six was when things got bad, though."

"You don't gotta keep going." Clay whispered.

"If she wants to, she can, Clay." Parson replied. Clay glared at him.
For some reason, I did want to talk about it. I never had before. I wanted to get if off my chest.

"I would get home from school and see my mom with bruises or cuts. She would be in the kitchen, making something for my father who would be drinking in the living room. He didn't acknowledge me, but Momma did. She tried really hard to pretend things were fine, but even at five, I knew they weren't.

"He would hit me sometimes, but Momma didn't know. She said he'd have to kill her before getting to me. He didn't care. I was born with not the best hearing, and he would smash things or scream by my ears to make it worse. So I turned to earbuds and music to help me think I could hear right. I can perfectly read lips. My right ear is worse than my left because he shot his gun a little too close to my ear.