BEHIND THE STARS - "Captive" (Vol. 1)

Chapter 2

The images were so vivid, it was like I was home again, lying in my bed upstairs, listening to Daddy and Braxton fight.

My brother quoted the Bible like always. “Wine is a mocker. Strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise.”

“Doesn’t that Bible say something about honoring your parents?” Daddy’s voice slurred. It made my stomach clench up.

After Mamma died, Daddy started drinking every night until he’d finally pass out on the couch or go to his own room to sleep it off. That was bad enough until Braxton found Jesus and became a traveling evangelist. Now my brother hounded him until Daddy either staggered off to his bedroom early or punched him in the face, depending on what kind of a day it’d been. Braxton, of course, would always turn the other cheek. The whole thing made me sick.

“I know you’re hurtin, but Jesus can take that pain away,” my brother said.

I couldn’t figure out why he was so bound and determined to badger our father to death.

“Shut up, Braxton.” Daddy’s voice tightened, and from the sound of it, this was going to be a punch in the face kind of night.

I crept to my door and turned the lock even though I knew they wouldn’t come up here. Still it made me feel less likely to get caught as I slipped back to my window and raised it. I tiptoed across the roof to the sweet gum tree that grew at the corner of the house.

“I love you, Daddy…” I heard Braxton say as my bare feet touched the damp earth. I took off running before the first punch was thrown.

Running helped ease the pressure in my chest, and by the time I was at Jackson’s house, I was calm. I pulled myself up through the oak tree until I was at his window. It slid out of my hands when I leaned forward to lift it, and Jackson’s face smiled at me through the dark opening.

“At it again?” His soft tenor erased all the pain.

I nodded, letting him help me into his room. We went over and curled up together in his twin bed, his arm encircling my waist.

“Your brother is some kind of persistent.” Jackson’s voice was at my ear, warming me and sending little tingles under my skin.

“He just worries about Daddy.”

“My daddy ever waled on me like that, I’d be out of here.”

Jackson rolled onto his back, and I rolled toward him, laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. I’d been running to Jackson’s house to spend the night since seventh grade. That was when things really started getting bad at home.

“When we build our own place, I want to have windows on the ceiling,” Jackson said, gesturing with one arm as the fingers of his other hand combed through my stringy hair. “It’ll be like we’re sleeping under the stars.”

“Daddy said I got to get a job. Start pulling my own weight.”

“Your daddy don’t remember half the shit he says.” He rubbed my back. “’sides. You’re only fifteen.”

“Still, if we’re going to have some fancy house with windows on the ceiling, I probably ought to know how to do something.” I propped up on my elbow so I could see his face. “I thought maybe I’d be a doctor. I like giving shots.”

“Doctors don’t give shots. Nurses do that.”

“Nurses change bedpans.”

He grinned and leaned forward, kissing my lips lightly. I dropped down onto my side and turned my back to him. Lately, my body had started responding differently when Jackson kissed me—a new warmth, low in my stomach, made my heart beat a little faster. Also, lately Jackson had become more interested in pursuing that reaction, sliding his hands places I knew Braxton and Pastor LeRoy would have a big problem with. I lay on my side and squeezed my thighs together, but that only made it worse.