Keep the Secrets Safe

Keeper

The breeze flows through the curtains as I alternate between staring at my clock and trying to spot my friend through the window.

My house has been quiet for a few hours, but I know that it won't last.

Dad's working late and his girlfriend found my new hiding spot. She'll be coming home soon because I haven't saved much money since the last time she raided my room. When Marsh found out, he told me to leave my nightlight on the next time it happened. He promised that he'd come.

He doesn't like it when my skin is stained purple and blue.

I hear a soft noise and for a moment, my heart lurches. I start to sit up, eager to greet my best friend.

Then, the headlights shine through the curtain and the noise becomes a growl of her car.

I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes. She hits harder when I cry. I bite my cheek to distract myself while tying my hair up into a low bun. Hopefully, she won't cut it if she can't see it. It only recently grew long enough to be pulled back.

I lay on my back, head turned towards my door, ready to face her.

I stifle the hurt that tries to gurgle up. I know Marsh would never intentionally abandon me.

He's not like other people.

Our neighbors ignore the noise. The police never look past the smiles she offers them. Teachers have never cared. Dad never notices anything because she hasn't been able to stomach looking at me since Mom died.

But Marsh cares.

He makes sure that I eat. When he saw the cuts and bruises, he fixed me up. We go on adventures. He always makes sure that I'm safe.

The front door slams shut and I let out a slow, deep breath.

I try to keep my breathing even despite the incessant brag of my heart.

She'll probably be too drunk to notice if I'm actually asleep, but I pretend my best anyway. 

Maybe she won't do anything if she thinks I'm sleeping.

I fight my fidgeting hands to stillness and swallow down that cursed spark of hope.

There's a clatter and I picture her throwing her keys and purse on the entry table. She's likely tripping over herself and Dad will probably have to straighten Mom's picture when he gets home.

A strangles screech finds its way up the stairs to my bedroom.

I steel myself. I can't let it get too bad.

Marsh will probably cry if I bleed again. He'll beg me again to move out. But I can't drag him into my mess.

Another muffled, indignant wail sounds.

I take myself to my calm place. I picture the meadow where I met Marsh. I see the light bugs and smell the grass. I hear him as he details which foods I can forage and eat. When he informs me with no shortage of amusement that both the berries and mushrooms that I've gathered will make me sick for a week.

There's a band down the hall but I block it out again.

I hear his laugh when I toss the food at his face. I feel a feathery soft touch as we take turns reading the book I've brought.

It feels so real that my heart lightens.

He's not here, but he would be if he could. And that's enough.

Her drunken curses sound close.

Then, my door slams open.

"You ungrateful rat!" she shrieks.