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“I could see you in here. I bet you were the cutest little kid ever. I would have had the biggest crush ever and showed up at your door every day asking you to play,” Sebastian joked, slinging an arm around my shoulder as we walked down the front hallway.
“Mmh,” I murmured absentmindedly, staring around the main living room.
“Daddy!” I screamed happily as the front door opened. I’d been sitting on the living room floor, playing with a doll. I jumped up and raced down the hallway, coming to a stop when I saw he was still facing the door, his shoulders slumped.
“Daddy?” I repeated, uncertainly.
“There’s my girl!” he said, spinning around. But it wasn’t with his usual excitement. He looked tired and sad.
I didn’t want my daddy to look sad.
“Don’t tell me,” my mother snapped from behind me. “Please, don’t tell me.” Her voice was worried and mean.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he said to her firmly, nodding at me.
They needed to have a grown-up conversation. That’s what that meant.
Daddy scooped me up before I could go anywhere and carried me into the kitchen. “Spaghetti, my favorite,” he said lightly.
“Will you play with me after dinner?” I asked. “Pleaseeee.”
He smiled at me, and again, it seemed all wrong. His eyes still seemed so sad.
I put my hands on both his cheeks and squished his lips together like the pufferfish I’d seen on a show the other day.
That did make him laugh. And I was proud of myself because that time his eyes smiled too.
“Of course, sweetie-pie,” he said, smacking a kiss against my cheek as he set me down in my chair. “Let’s eat!”
Later that night I heard screaming. I crept down the stairs and peeked through the railing, into the kitchen where they were yelling at each other.
“You’re a good for nothing joke, Paul. You’re a fucking joke. That’s three jobs in two months. You’re pathetic!”
“Fuck you!” Daddy snarled, and I jumped because he never sounded mean like that. “You think this is easy? You think I can concentrate knowing you’re popping pills here at home, spending money we don’t have, neglecting our baby girl.”
Mom scoffed and rolled her eyes. “She’s perfectly fine.”
“Well, at least you’re not denying it. You’re a fucking addict.”
“Better than being a loser.”
Daddy backhanded her and she fell to the floor. I’d let out a little scream when he did that, and I froze, sure he’d heard me. But he didn’t turn around.
I came back to the present, my fingers trailing over worn furniture and peeling wallpaper, shivering because it felt like I was surrounded by more than bad memories. It felt like I was surrounded by ghosts.
“Remember something?” Jack asked hopefully, his nose wrinkled as he stared around the room. Sebastian’s arm was still around me, and I nestled closer to him, wondering if every moment of my past was carved in misery.
“A little,” I murmured, my gaze on the floor, seeing myself as a little girl playing there on the faded and worn carpet.
I sighed and walked into the kitchen, my eyes immediately finding the spot where my mother had fallen to the ground after he’d hit her.
I could remember her more now. She’d been a cold, selfish woman. She would pop pills, and go lay down, staying in her room all day while I fended for myself. I remembered dragging the wooden chair to the counter, trying to make myself a sandwich, the too sharp knife I’d been using to spread the mayo cutting into my hand.
“Ow,” I cried, blood dribbling from my cut onto the counter, splashing on my bread. Big tears fell off my face, drippingdown and mixing with the blood until the sandwich I was making was nothing but a soggy mess.
I was really hungry, and that just made me cry harder.
My hand really hurt too. I got off the chair and moved it to the other counter where there were some paper towels. Mom would get mad if I got blood everywhere. And there was a lot of blood dripping from my hand right now.
