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When I get to my room, I quietly shut the door. Grabbing the chair from my desk, I wedge it under the doorknob to keep anyone from entering. Preston has long since changed out all the interior doorknobs for ones that don’t lock. The only exception being our bathroom door. That was another battle that Mom thankfully won.
Frowning, I look back down at the chair. It won’t stop someone if they really want to force their way in here, but it might buy me enough time to escape through the window. Breathing another sigh of relief at having gotten off easy tonight, I carefully set my backpack down beside my rickety nightstand.
Even though they don’t do much, I close my threadbare curtains, hoping they at least make it a little harder for someone to watch what I’m doing. Walking the few steps across the room to my closet, I quietly move a stack of boxes on the floor to reveal the boards along the back wall that I had pried loose years ago. My little hidey-hole is the only way to make sure Preston or Mom doesn’t find stuff I want to keep hidden.
Mainly my money.
I learned that the hard way years ago when I’d realized Preston had stolen my birthday money from my grandparents. He, of course, denied it, but I never made the mistake again. Any money I received was always painstakingly hidden around my room in various places until I realized I could pry these boards loose.
Kneeling, I carefully move the boards, and grab my coffee tin where I keep my stash of wages and tips until it’s a decent amount to deposit at the bank. Stashing today’s tips inside, I put the tin back in my hidey-hole but freeze when my hand brushes up against something.
Panic gnaws at my chest.
Did Mom or Preston remove any boards in the back of their closet? I’ve checked here hundreds of times and have never found anything of theirs in here before. What could it be? I freeze again.
Fiddlesticks.
Did they take any of my money?
Pulling the coffee tin back out, I double check. I’m shocked to see there’s almost three hundred dollars more than there should be, and that’s including what I just put in there. Where did the extra money come from?
Shaking my head, I set the tin down next to me. Maybe I just put money in one night and didn’t count it. I’ve been working a lot of late shifts lately on top of helping open the diner. I usually prefer not to have more than five hundred in the tin in case Preston finds it. Tomorrow I’ll have to see if Peggy will let me take a longer lunch break so that I can deposit it.
Reaching back into the closet, I try to be as quiet as I can as I blindly pat around, hoping I don’t cut myself on anything rusty. A second later, my hand brushes up against a stack of what feels like books. Taking the one on top, I pull it out and realize it’s a notebook. What’s a notebook doing in here and whose is it?
Frowning, I sit down. Leaning against my dresser, I open it and suck in a breath when I see Mom’s handwriting. It’s a journal she started a couple of weeks ago. Flipping through the pages, I find the latest entry which is for today.
Preston’s gone too far this time. He owes his dealer a couple thousand dollars, and his dealer isn’t falling for his usual tricks to get out of paying. He won’t take anything but cash and Preston has until the 9th, which is next weekend, to square up what he owes.
Preston’s already taken the remaining money from my monthly checks, but somehow, it isn’t enough to cover the amount. He must owe more than he’s telling me, or he has more than one dealer he owes.
I overheard him on the phone a few weeks ago. He’s arranged for someone to buy my baby girl after she turns ‘eighteen’. I’ve tried talking him out of it, but each time, he beats me and then drugs me to shut me up.
I don’t know what to do. I have no family or friends anymore. The only other person I could go to is Jax, and I know he won’t talk to me. I hate that I listened to Preston back then, but he convinced me it would be best for Mae.
How wrong I was.
I wish I could take it all back.
My chest is in knots as fear runs through me. He’s going to sell me to someone? Is that what he meant earlier when he said I’d be gone after my birthday? Who is this Jax person? Is it the same ‘Jax’ that’s related to her tattoo?
Then I freeze as my gaze goes back to the notebook.
Cheese and crackers!
Is she sober enough to remember how old I really am? Wait, is sober the right word for when someone isn’t strung out on drugs? Shaking my head, I refocus. If she tells Preston how old I really am, or if he beats it out of her, I’m screwed.
With a shaky hand, I set the journal down. Reaching back into the closet, I pull out the rest of the journals. There are six in total as well as a few papers tucked in between them. I poke my cheap phone through the gap and open my camera to see if there’s anything else hidden in here, but it’s too dark.
Knowing it’s a risk, but needing to see if there’s anything else in here that might help me, I turn on the flashlight feature and see a few more papers and letters. Quickly, I pull them out and turn the flashlight off. Picking everything up, I bring it over to my bed so that I can somewhat sit comfortably as I look through everything.
After arranging the notebooks from oldest to newest, my focus turns to the loose papers and envelopes. Picking up the first few, I freeze.
What the fudge nuggets?
My name is on two birth certificates as well as a death certificate. The only thing that’s different is the father, last name, and birthdates. Everything else matches.
The first birth certificate is one I’ve seen before.Mae Rose Cole. Born: September 2nd, 2002. Father: Unknown.
