"Why are you even here?" Trent inquired sullenly. I sighed dramatically but didn't respond, distracted by the doll being shoved into my hands. The little girl, christened Sofia, gazed up at me with hopeful eyes, the same dark chips as her big brother's. My lips quirked up and I accepted the doll, my fingers nimbly braiding its blonde hair.I handed it back to Sofia, who made a cute happy sound before adding the doll to the line in front of her.
"Having trouble?" I said to Trent, who continued to sulk. "No." I giggled, a sound quite abnormal for me, and snatched the doll from his irritable fingers before fixing the tangled mess he had made of its hair. "Here you go, sweetie," I said, momentarily forgetting that she wouldn't understand me as I handed the last doll to Sofia. She made a little hand gesture that most likely meant 'Thank you' in sign language before scooping the dolls up in her little arms and running off down the hall.
"You're really good with her," Trent admitted, staring off at where she had departed. "I think she's fascinated by you since she doesn't get to be around girls a lot-- at least, not older girls. Not since..." he trailed off, his eyes glazing over as he faded into his own thoughts. Not since Darcy, I mentally finished his sentence. I elbowed him in the arm to shake him out of his thoughts, smiling, and replied, "Well, I'm not used to being around little girls, so it's mutual."
Though our project was long over, I still visited Trent fairly often to help him study, since he spent so little time paying attention in class. Though he wouldn't admit it, I could tell that he enjoyed my company. He spent too much time in solitude. And while I knew that alone time was good for everyone, it turns negative as soon as one starts to get lonely. He was too embarassed to try to make any other friends, and I had a feeling I was the only one he trusted enough to enter his house since Darcy after he confided in me about his past.
"Are you ready to study? We have a test on Friday, so we should get a move on so that you at least get some of this beforehand," I reminded him. "I guess," he said reluctantly. I rolled my eyes at him before reaching behind me and grabbing my backpack, pulling out my binder. As I flipped through my notes, Trent grumbled, "It's only Tuesday. Can't we save the studying for the day before?"
"No, you won't get all of this in time. It's an eighty question test that's going to take up the whole class period. You can't rely on your memory," I answered, and he groaned. "I can try. It's not like I'm trying to get a one hundred."
"You really should set your standards higher, Trent," I admonished. "You never know what could happen if you really tried. You could end up at Harvard. Okay, maybe not after the drugs in your locker, but you could still go to a good college. There's no point in giving up before you ever try."
"You really think that, after everything that's happened, my father's going to put any money towards my college," Trent said in disbelief. "I think that with enough effort, you could at least get a partial scholarship to a state college. You'll get your inheritance when you turn eighteen, which you can use to pay some and put the rest in your savings, and you already have a job. You could save up instead of buying Sofia a new doll every week," I said gently.
"Well, maybe I can get off of the coffee. Still, I just don't know if it's worth it. I don't think I could just leave Fia here," he said, glancing over at the door of her bedroom as he opened his textbook. "You won't be leaving her here. She will have her father, and your sister is coming back next year, isn't she?"
Trent finally met her gaze, his eyes sad. "You really think college is an option for someone like me?" I put my hand on his wrist and squeezed it in an attempt to be comforting. "You're intelligent, you work hard when you want to, and I know that you have ambition buried under there, Trent. Everyone deserves a chance, and you deserve it most."
He was silent for a moment, looking at me with a mixture of awe and a little bit of hope that made my heart swell with pride. "Can I ask you a question?" he inquired suddenly. "Sure," I answered in surprise."Since I told you so much about my problems, I was hoping you would do the same for me." He looked down at my hand, and I felt a little shock as he took in the scars that littered my skin. "What happened to you?"
When I blanched and yanked my hand back, he quickly said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just curious." I waved away his concerns with a quick, meaningless smile, pushing my hair behind my ear. "No, it's okay. I owe you that much. It's just that I haven't told anyone since it happened, not even Shaun, and I don't think I'm ready for everyone to know yet. Can you promise you'll stay quiet?"
"It's me. I don't talk to people," Trent stated, and I chuckled. "Right. Well, it's sort of a long story, just to warn you." He rolled his eyes and waved for me to continue.
"When my parents and I moved to Ohio, it was Mom's way of trying to fix her relationship with Dad. They were having problems those last few months, since he was away so much, and my sisters growing up and leaving were a big part of it, too." I paused, took a deep breath, and said, "She thought that being closer to the girls and being grandparents would help them find something to connect to, along with getting him away from his strict work. I don't think she ever realized the work hours and the girls growing up had nothing to do with why they'd been drifting. In reality, my dad had a girlfriend, someone younger, and she was pregnant at the time with his baby.
"She noticed the money that was being taken out of the bank account and was already suspicious, but I'm not sure she would have ever found out the truth if the other woman had not called Mom and told her the truth. His girlfriend wanted my father to support her more financially, and she figured that a divorce would make Dad turn his focus fully on her. Mom made him sign the divorce papers a day later. He moved in with his girlfriend, and the baby's three now, I think. I've never met her.
"A little while later, Mom met my stepdad." I took another breath, knowing that it was going to get a lot harder for me to speak, but Trent's surprisingly encouraging eyes helped to push me forward. "She was so vulnerable, and he was so charming. He was a lawyer, a great businessman, and we weren't doing too well at the time, so I can see why it was so easy for her to fall for his act. They were married way too soon, but I was surprisingly okay with it. He seemed nice to me-- never have I been so wrong.
"He was an alcoholic, and a bad one at that. When he got fired from the firm for drinking on the job, he sat at home and always had a bottle in his hand. At first, it was okay, though at that point I knew Mom needed to get rid of him, for he would only cost more money than she made. I ended up getting a job myself working at a grocery store down the street to try and help, but it still wasn't enough. Mom took a second job and we were almost okay, letting him sit there and drink and watch TV all day.
"However, that was before the night he hit my mom. I can still remember the way my stomach seemed to drop, and there was a roaring in my ears that seemed to block out all sound. She was so shocked that she didn't seem to even comprehend that it really happened. It wasn't until I started moving towards him with my fists clenched that she jumped up, pulled me away and closed us in her room. She told me that it was a one time incident, that he was drunk, that it wouldn't happen again. Then, she told me that it had to stay between us, and because I was an idiot, I agreed to stay quiet.
"A day later, he tried to raise his hand to her and I jumped in the way. I had to wear a lot of makeup the next day to cover the red mark on my cheek that had yet to fade. He was really angry at me for getting in the way, and suddenly everything got even worse. He didn't slap anymore, but used his fists, along with anything he could reach. I had a lot of black eyes that I covered up, along with bruises all over my arms. I had a habit of putting up my hand to protect my face when he hit me, so that's why most of my scars are on my hands."
"But these aren't scar that you can get from someone's fists," Trent said quietly, grabbing my hand and examining the white marks with sad, almost angry eyes. "I told you, he would grab items he could reach and use them as weapons," I explained. "Bottles, plates and forks, a kitchen knife once," I gestured to the scar going across my knuckles. "He hated me and took it all out on me, but I was just glad that I was able to protect Mom.
"I knew that I had to tell someone, but Mom was so scared of what Steven-- my stepfather-- would do if he found out we let it slip. So I stayed silent until the night he raised a fire poker to me and nearly killed me with it. The next morning, I skipped school, for once glad to know that my mother was at work until midnight and wouldn't notice, and caught a bus to my Dad's work. He had tried to get in touch with me for the past three years, and he was so happy that I came to see him, I knew he'd help me with whatever I wanted him to.
"I made him believe that I wanted to spent some father-daughter time doing the thing he did best-- shooting guns. I quit my job so that every day that week I could go to the shooting range after school and learned how to shoot this tiny little handgun identical to the one I knew was at the top of Steven's closet. At the end of that week, I came home and was met by my stepfather, drunk off his ass, screaming at me because the school had called the house about me skipping school. I saw the knife in his hand and knew that I had to act. When he moved towards me I jerked my leg out and tripped him, and then jumped over him and ran towards his room.
"He ran after me, screaming at me, but drunk people can't run very fast. I made it to the room and shut and locked the door. As he was banging on it, trying to break the door down to find me, I fumbled with the shoebox on top of the closet and pulled the gun out. It was loaded." My breath was shaky, and I had long since stopped meeting Trent's eyes.
"I was sort of terrified-- at everything. At the sound of the door cracking, at the gun trembling in my hands, at the fact that he'd had that all along and could have used it on us any time he wanted. Somehow, I knew that whatever I did, I was about to end the horrible things happening in my life. I was about to finally make things better for my mother and I. Even so, I didn't want to kill him.
"Instead, I slid my phone from my pocket, went for the 'emergency call' instead of unlocking it, and dialed 911. I didn't get the chance to hit the call button before I heard the weak wooden door splinter. However, by the time my stepdad shoved his way into the room, I had a gun pointed at him. He backed into the wall. His eyes were the size of tennis balls.
"I remember him saying that I wouldn't really do it-- that I wouldn't really kill anybody. I said, 'You really think I wouldn't after everything you've done to my mom, after everything you've done to me?' Then I hit call and put the phone to my ear. I told the person on the line what was happening and where I was. I kept the phone to my ear and the phone pointed at him until the police got there..." I trailed off with nothing else to say.
"And what? You and your mom packed up and moved here?" he asked. His eyes held mine, surprisingly steady. I would have assumed he would avoid my gaze, afraid of what he saw there, but he never once looked away. I wasn't sure whether to find that soothing or uncomfortable.
"Pretty much-- after he was arrested and my mom filed the report, of course. The court hearing is coming up soon, i think. My mom won't tell me a date, but she has to know she can't go without me. I called the police, I threatened him with a gun. I'm going to have to give my account eventually."
"You could do it over video chat if you don't want to be there," he reminded me. "You can request it." My overgrown fring came loose, and I pushed the locks back behind my ears with shaky hands. "My friend, Kara would never forgive me if I passed up the chance to come and visit her. Besides, my family's all there. I'm going to have to go back eventually; better now than re-opening the wound later."
Trent nodded seriously for a moment. Then, his mouth twitched and he bumped his knee against mine. "You know, you're a lot tougher than anyone realizes," he said. "And you're a lot easier to talk to than anyone realizes," I countered with a grin that was almost genuine. "I haven't talked that much in a while."
"I know. I ask you one question and you spill all your secrets to me. It's amazing." I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a venting machine." Then I grinned wider. "You see what I did there? Like Vending Machine? But with a T?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I see what you did there. Nerd." I laughed and was reaching my hand out to punch his shoulder when the doorbell rang, echoing through the house. Before Trent could even stand up, Sofia was skipping down the hallway-- she must have felt the vibrations-- and into the foyer. Trent stayed still for a moment, watching as Sofia craned to look through the glass panes in the door. She then turned to her brother and made a brief hand gesture Cassie didn't recognize.
Trent sucked in a deep breath so sharply that it was almost violent. "It's Darcy."