The One You Feed Read online

  He had been proud of her once. Together, his parents still made an enviable pair. Luke O’Brien, a couple of years older, with auburn hair and light eyes, stood taller than Opal by several inches. His Gran used to say they were soul mates, but that was before his father started drinking so much, and his mother lost her spine.

  Garrett tried to help her the first few times he witnessed a punishment. Eventually, his father turned that rage toward him, but when Garrett pleaded for his mother’s help, she looked away.

  Back then, when he’d been so small, he didn’t understand why she covered her face and cried instead of helping her own kid. It wasn’t until much later, when his father went to bed, she would come into his room and hold him.

  “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s here.” Her arms around him and the flowery perfume she wore had been comforting back then. He would lie on her lap and let her tend to his hurts while she whispered soft words, not too loud, though, in case his father heard her.

  Those first few times he felt the back of his dad’s hand, he cried rivers. Later, he learned if he didn’t cry, didn’t flinch, it was over faster. His father respected him, because he took the punishment he was due without crying like a little girl.

  Pete hadn’t learned this yet, though Garrett tried to explain. At the sight of their tears, his father became a man possessed. Once, he even broke Garrett’s nose. He was careful now not to break bones. People asked questions, and Luke didn’t like people asking questions.

  As he helped his mother to the bathroom, he glanced at her face, but it was dark, and he couldn’t make out her expression. She took the facecloth off the rack next to the sink and ran water over it.

  “I’m sorry you have to see this. I’m sorry about all of it.”

  He rubbed a black smudge from the edge of the door. “Why?”

  Garrett toyed with the brass knob, turning the lock in and then out. Finally, realizing his mother would leave it off, he switched on the light. Blinded by the pristine white of the walls and fixtures, he blinked. The only color in the room was in the deep green towels hanging on the rack and the matching shower curtain. That and his mother’s blood.

  “I do love your father,” she said. “When he’s sober, he loves us more than anything, but he has a monster inside and it’s eating him up. He’s not the same man I married.”

  Garrett’s cheeks warmed. Hearing her speak of his dad like that felt wrong. He didn’t punish them if they didn’t deserve it. “You just shoulda had his dinner ready.”

  In an instant, her eyes dulled and her mouth pressed into a thin line. This was the sign she’d left, gone to the place in her head where she often stayed for days on end.

  Turning to the small mirror above the sink, she wiped blood from her face. “Go on up to bed. I don’t need your help.”

  “Okay, just make sure you’re up to get Pete ready tomorrow. You know how Dad hates us to miss school.”

  She didn’t reply.

  Garrett returned to his room. He crept across the floor and climbed into bed. When he pulled the blankets up to his nose, he smelled his mother’s shampoo on his hands. Breathing deeply, he remembered his mother when she was better.

  In the darkness, Pete sniffled in his sleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  Dana lay still, focused on the footsteps echoing from the hallway. He was coming. She wanted to refuse him, or to hurt him as he hurt her, but then his attention would turn to someone else. He warned her the first time. It would be Dana or her younger siblings. She had to make the choice. And she had, although when he came to her, a dark part of her heart wished he had gone to someone else first. Gave them the choice instead of her.

  Danny, her younger brother, slept by her side, his sweet breath on her cheek. He had his own bed in the boys’ room across the hall, but Danny didn’t like the teasing he endured from his older brothers when he woke up crying in the middle of the night. She risked a glance across the room to where three of her sisters slept soundly in their beds under the slanted ceiling. Her two older sisters, Karen and Catherine, no longer lived at home. Their absence afforded Dana her own bed, and Marcus more opportunity.

  He stood in the doorway now, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the bathroom.

  “Dana,” he whispered as he stepped into the room and closed the door. “I know you’re awake.”

  Her stomach clenched at his voice. He would touch her, hurt her, but never enough to leave the proof she needed to show her parents. He sat on the end of the bed and waited, moonlight from the small window behind dusting his blond hair with a silvery glow.

  No point in pretending to sleep. It never worked anyway, so she sat up. “Go back to bed, Marcus. I told you we can’t do it again.”

  Marcus trailed a finger over Danny’s cheek. “That’s okay. I’m sure someone else will give me what I need.”

  He pulled the covers from Danny’s small body and traced along the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He slipped his thumb inside.

  “Leave him alone,” she said.

  “You were just about this age when you came to me. Why not him? I’ve never been with a boy before; maybe he’ll teach me something.”

  Fury, cold and hard, filled Dana’s pores. It crept over her skin, making her muscles itch. Marcus had a strange way of remembering things. She hadn’t come to him. He had stalked her like an animal, waiting until she was alone before striking. Dana told on him. He denied it. Their mother had punished her for making up such terrible stories about her brother.

  Marcus slipped his whole hand inside Danny’s pajamas.

  Dana grabbed his arm.

  He chuckled as he removed it, smoothing the worn cotton before putting his hand on her knee. “Tell you what, you stop fighting me and I’ll leave them alone. I could have anyone I want, but I chose you. I made you special.”

  Dana didn’t want to be special. “How do I know you’ll leave them alone? You lie about lots of things, Marcus.”

  “I don’t want to train another one to do what I like. Takes too long and Mom might believe one of them if they told.”

  Their mom would believe Marcus. She always did. Maybe, though, if one of the others told on him, she’d have to consider that they might be telling the truth. Would they tell?

  “You know I’ll take what I want whether you agree or not,” Marcus said. “Besides, you make up so many stories, I could do whatever I wanted, and no one would believe a word you said about it.”

  Dana glared. Sure, as a young child, she’d made up stories, but she was eleven now, and didn’t do that anymore. Hadn’t done it in years, actually. The damage was done, though; her parents reckoned everything she said and did was for attention.

  She covered Danny up again, hands fumbling as she accepted her fate. Brushing a golden curl from his brow, she swallowed and then nodded toward her sleeping sisters. “Swear to me that you’ll leave them alone.”

  “Sure, as long as I get what I need, you can be the only one.”

  It was done, not that she could fight him anyway. If Marcus chose to, and he often did, he could force her to do what he wanted without the promises.

  When his hand crept under her nightgown and rough fingers tugged her panties down, she closed her eyes and drifted to a dark place in the back of her mind. He whispered hurried instructions. She obeyed, hating herself for her weakness, and remained there, in her secret place, aware of what he did, but unwilling to feel it, until he left. Then, with trembling hands, she pulled her nightgown over her knees and lay beside her baby brother, tears dampening her cheeks.

  She might have prayed to God for help but decided long ago He wasn’t listening. If He did exist, and did care about anyone, it wasn’t Dana Parson.

  No one cared about her.

  —

  Up before everyone else, Dana’s chores included all things in the kitchen, most importantly, making meals for the family when her mom wasn’t home. Seven of her nine siblings still lived at home, and her three younger sisters were
supposed to help, but they rarely did. Dana didn’t bitch about it. Bitching in the Parson house carried a heavier punishment than slacking.

  Before starting breakfast, she had to dump the bucket from the bathroom. The bucket, named the pooh pail by her siblings, was almost as big as she was, and heavy. Almost full, it sloshed back and forth. Dana struggled out the door and down the hill in the backyard, to a hole behind the woodshed.

  Although they lived within Beverley, their street on the edge of town was quiet, with only one house at the bottom of the hill and two at the top. The shed sat on the lower edge of the property with a vacant lot beside it. At the top of the hill, surrounded by brush and trees, their house sat a short distance from a narrow lane. Mrs. Thompson, their only neighbor, lived across the road in a decrepit old home with decaying shingles.

  Dana thought their yard was wild and overgrown. It was embarrassing. The only section they tended was her mother’s garden on the right side behind the house. Her older brothers, Rick, Marcus, and Randy, kept it weeded in the spring and summer, and each Saturday they picked enough vegetables for the week. Too young yet to do anything useful, Danny joined them and hauled the wheelbarrow to the shed to dump the weeds. He spent more time righting it and putting the weeds back in than hauling, though.

  Curling her nose at the stench, Dana pushed the bucket over to let half drain out before lifting it and emptying the rest. Kids at school had toilets that flushed, but theirs had stopped working last year, and her parents said they couldn’t afford to fix it yet, so the pail with a plastic seat on top had been their solution. Dana’s mother worked two jobs and was never home. Her father worked away at the talc mines for most of the week. Maybe they could afford the new toilet, if they stopped entertaining friends every time her dad returned.

  Friday nights her father came home with his buddies from work. Booze flowed freely and sometimes they would pay Dana and her sisters to entertain them. Five cents would be enough to entice the children to dance while the adults laughed and clapped. Then, Dana began to feel uncomfortable at the way her dad’s friends looked at her. It was strange, almost like when Marcus ogled her. Sometimes they’d make her sit on their laps, their big hands slapping her backside or tickling her until she wanted to cry. Her parents did nothing to stop it, so when Friday came, she tried to hide in her room before they got home.

  After dragging the empty bucket to the pump at the top of the hill she worked an inch of water into it. The bucket should have been scrubbed with hot water and soap but her mother didn’t waste such things on the toilet. She sloshed it around the best she could and dumped the murky brown slop on the grass.

  When she came in the house, Bea sat at the battered pine table their father made. They didn’t turn the lights on during the day—a waste of electricity according to their father. The only light in the kitchen came from the windows, one above the table and a smaller one over the sink. Her mother had tried to make it bright, covering each window with white curtains dotted with dark-blue flowers, but the room remained in shadows. Deep brown paneling covered the walls, full of dents and scratches from the boys and their rough housing. The fridge was wedged into the corner near the doorway to the living room. Dana hated opening it, the door blocked the living room and the boys often ran through, slamming it closed on her.

  “Dana, I’m hungry,” Bea cried. “Where’s breakfast?”

  Dana hurried through the living room and up the stairs with the bucket. “Just a minute.”

  Bea moaned and banged her fist on the table. She didn’t like waiting for anything. Most mornings Dana had breakfast ready on the table when she woke them all. The chair scraped across the floor. Dana smiled as The Mamas and the Papas’ Monday, Monday drifted up the stairs. Her parents hated anything but Country and Western music, but when they weren’t home, she let the girls listen to other stuff. She’d have to remember to switch the radio back to the regular station before leaving for school.

  After dropping the bucket in the bathroom, she crossed the open door to the boys’ room. Inside, only Rick and Randy remained asleep, occupying the top and bottom of one of the two sets of bunk beds. Marcus and Danny’s bunks sat empty across the room.

  Dana’s stomach tightened. She rushed across the hall into her room. Although the sun was already bright, the room remained in darkness, with just a stream of light coming through a small window behind Dana’s bed. Again, her mother had tried to brighten it by hanging pale yellow curtains edged in white lace but the dark paneled walls her father liked so much—and had covered every room in—kept the house in perpetual gloom. A small closet to the left of the door held their meager wardrobe, most of which they shared if they could. An old desk sat between the two beds.

  Marcus leaned over Jan’s bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  Marcus turned. “I’m getting the girls up. Why?”

  “Get out. Don’t let me see you near her again.”

  “Fuck off, Dana. I was just helping you out. Everything has to be such a big deal.”

  “Get out.”

  “Jealous?”

  If she were bigger, older even, she’d teach him a lesson. Then he’d never touch her again. If he laid a finger on her sisters, though, she would die making him pay for it.

  “Get out,” she repeated, her voice brittle. “I’ll tell Mom if you touch her. She’ll believe me if Jan says the same thing.”

  “Jannie won’t tell Mom anything, will you?” He tweaked her nose and she giggled. “I was just waking her up.”

  Dana didn’t argue. Marcus walked past her and through the door, his laughter burning her ears as he went down the stairs.

  Jan pushed back her blanket. Her nightie was on, panties where they should be. “It’s okay, Dana, Marcus just kissed me to say good morning.”

  “Don’t let him do that.” She didn’t want to make Jannie fearful, but morning kisses would turn into something uglier.

  “I don’t like when he licks my mouth,” Donna piped up from the tiny closet on the other side of the room. That she hid in the closet worried Dana.

  “Brothers don’t kiss their sisters like that. You guys need to tell me if it ever happens and I’ll make it stop. Okay?”

  “Just Marcus likes morning kisses. He said don’t tell you cause you get mad.”

  “I am mad, but not at you. He shouldn’t do that.”

  The girls stared.

  “Okay, just tell me and I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you guys anymore. The boys aren’t supposed to be in our room anyway. Rick and Randy never come in and neither should Marcus.”

  The girls nodded.

  “Good.” Dana smiled. “Now you get dressed while I make the beds and wake Danny.”

  Mom would be home before they left for school. Her oldest sister, Karen, would be over to watch him while Mom went to work in the afternoon. Karen was married and had a daughter the same age as Danny. They played while Karen lay around all day. Dana couldn’t wait until she could get married and move out so she too could lie around all day.

  CHAPTER 4

  June 1969

  The Smith boys ran down the road. Their daily ritual of picking on Dana and stealing her lunch, or whatever they decided she had that was valuable, had been ruined by Marcus. He grabbed her by the collar. Before she had a chance to think, he dragged her off the road and into the overgrown brush in May Thompson’s yard. Dana stumbled behind him, twigs and branches scraping her legs, but she barely noticed the stinging cuts.

  “You’re a fucking tease.” He shoved her to the ground.

  She rolled over and scrambled away from him while trying to regain her footing. Pine needles stuck to her hands, their heady fragrance making her nose itch.

  “That’s why those boys bug you all the time,” he said. “Batting your freak eyes at them and then crying when they talk to you.”

  “I do not. They pick on me every day. I give them my lunch like they tell me, and they pester me anyway.”

  “You s
houldn’t even be looking at other boys. You hear me?”

  She moved back. “Why? I’m fourteen and all of my friends date. None of their boyfriends are related to them either.”

  Marcus kicked and caught her shin. She winced as white-hot pain shot up her leg. She would not let him hurt her anymore. The last few times he had come into her room, Dana had screamed and woke the younger kids. Marcus backed off, but had not given up; she caught him twice with Bea, and had hit him the first time with a hairbrush and the second time with a curtain rod, earning herself a black eye and a swollen lip in return. Their mother didn’t care, only scolded her for fighting with her brother. Young ladies don’t rough-house, she’d been told.

  “You can’t just take it all back now,” he said. “You think someone is going to want your scrawny ass? I doubt it.” Tossing his blond hair out of his face, he reached for her.

  Scrambling to her feet, Dana dodged his hands and slammed into an oak tree, scraping her palms on the rough bark. She ignored the stinging bite while keeping Marcus in her sight. A voice inside told her if he got a hold of her this time, he wouldn’t stop at messing around. It’d be like that time he caught her in the attic all over again.

  “I am done with this, Marcus. It’s wrong.”

  “Stupid bitch, of course it’s wrong.”

  He lunged.

  She slipped away once more. Now her back faced the road.

  “If you hadn’t teased me like you do, I’d never have touched you. It’s your fault for letting me near you. I’m a man, Dana, and I have needs. You’ve made me do these things and now I can’t stop.”

  “Fuck you,” she spat.

  Dana turned and ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Twigs cracked under her feet. She stepped onto the shoulder of the road slipping on the loose gravel. Marcus thrashed through the brush behind her.

  Dana’s heart pounded. Her head spun. If she didn’t faint, it would be a miracle. Coming up to the road, she rounded the corner to their house at the top of the hill. Her legs burned.