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Prologue
Kristi
I hear yelling coming from downstairs. Mom and Daddy are at it again. Their voices grow louder. Angrier. I pull my favorite fuzzy blue blanket over my face, hoping to drown out the sound. My door creaks open, and Emma, my four-year-old baby sister, comes in, looking timid. She’s clutching her favorite gray stuffed rabbit in her small hands.
“Can I curl up with you?” she asks quietly. I throw back my covers and nod. “I hate when they fight like this,” she says, curling into me.
“Yeah, so do I,” I tell her, pulling the blankets up over us. She snuggles into my side and we listen together. Her cold toes press into my leg but I don’t complain.
My parents were always so happy, but recently they’ve started to fight a lot more. Gone are the make out sessions I would walk in on, gone are their constant touches with each other. No more long looks or Mom’s high-pitched squeals late at night when us girls are supposed to be sleeping.
“You only care about yourself, Gary! I finally have a life, finally working since our kids are in school full time, but all you care about is you. When is supper going to be ready? Hurry and get home. Laundry needs to be done,” Mom shouts in a mocking tone, making Emma and I both flinch. “And then you go out with your work buddies once a week to play with balls, and I’m left home with the damn kids. I can’t do it all. When do I get time to go out?”
“Get over yourself, Shirley. Ever since you got that position at the law firm, you’re never home. And more than half the time when I call, your boss picks up. Are you fucking him?” he asks, his voice getting louder.
“Kristi?” Emma starts.
“Shh. They’ll be done soon,” I whisper, hoping. “Try to go to sleep,” I tell her, knowing there is no way either of us can.
“Maybe I am, what business would it be of yours?” Mom says.
“I’m your Goddamn husband!” Daddy roars. His voice booms up the stairs and echoes off the walls.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be anymore. We got married young, you wanted a family. I put my career on hold for that. But I got nothing in return,” Mom screeches. “Spoiled rotten, good-for-nothing brats are what they are.” She pauses then says quietly, but loud enough I can still hear, since my bedroom door is partially open, “I want out.”
“What?” I hear dad say.
“I can’t do this anymore. I have no life here, with you, the kids. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I can’t,” our mom confesses.
“You don’t mean that. I know we have our issues, but don’t you want to try for the girls?” Daddy pleads with her.
Their voices quieten to murmurs. I can’t make out what they are saying now. Part of me wants to go to the stairs and listen, but part of me also knows that this is serious. I’m not sure I want to know what’s happening.
Minutes later, I hear a door slam shut and footsteps coming up the stairs.
I hear a car speed off.
It was at that moment; my family was destroyed. Mom is hurting my dad, I’ll never forgive her for this.
I hold Emma tight, petting her hair until she drifts to sleep.
