Haunted

Anna

        Steven is my older brother; he’s kind, gentle, and shy. Everything a man shouldn’t be according to Frank. He should drink beer and watch football and “discipline his bitch if she steps outta line”, but Steven isn’t like that and it kills Frank.  He beat my mother and me, but he terrified Steven. He stopped when Steven turned sixteen and became a staggering six foot three. I was only a couple inches shorter which was strange because neither Frank nor my mother was tall. I use to think that maybe I wasn’t really his child, but Mama showed me a picture of him holding me at the hospital when I was born, he looked real happy too. I don’t know what surprised me more: that he was happy or that he was holding me like I was precious.  I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. However, I don’t think it’s really important because whatever he was feeling disappeared a long time ago. I still had a hope that maybe one day he would stop and tell me he loved me, and he was sorry for hurting us. I don't know why I thought that, maybe I was stupid or naive, but I guess that how I was. I knew that he would never tell us he was sorry or ever regret what he did, he was stone cold heartless.         

        So for now, I was counting down the days that I could finally leave for college. I had gotten into one of the best schools in the country with a full scholarship. Hell yes, I was proud; the extra homework and studying into the wee hours of the morning actually paid off. The best part was that it including rooming so I didn't have to pay a cent. I was still going to get a job, because the downside was that it didn't include food. I liked the idea of working for my money though and actually being able to keep it. Frank always took my wages. He said it was for 'rent'. I silently snort at that. More like beer money. But I didn’t have to worry about being hungry or not getting Frank angry ever agin. I was going to have a life finally, I was going to a place where no one knew me and where no one would tell me what to do or say. I was going to be independent. At least I thought I was.

   It was nighttime when I heard the voices in the dark. Steven was out with friends and Mama was sleeping off her headache—that Frank caused by slamming it against the fridge earlier. I snuck out the pathetic closet that constituted as my room and crept down the stairs quietly. “I don’t have the money, but I’ll get it to you I swear!” I’ve never heard Frank sound so scared before and it gave me a perverse sense of pleasure, no justice but I quickly tamp down on that feeling, shame taking over me. “That’s what you’ve been saying for three months now Frank. I would love to give you more time but…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence; Frank understood that tonight might be his last. “I don’t have the money. I really don’t.”  The man sighed sympathetically “I know Frank. That’s why I have another way for you to pay me back what you owe.”

        The next words would forever haunt me. “I want something that you have. Something you may not want to give up. But really, it doesn’t matter. I could take it and still kill you. However… it would be better if you give it up.” Frank starts pleading “What do you want?  I give it up, I’ll give it up I swear. Please just tell me and I promise on my mother’s grave that it’s yours.”  I can feel the man smile, “Frank, I want your daughter.”