Page 2 of Splintered Desire

“I was coming to ask if you wanted a turn,” she said, jerking her head back toward the hopscotch squares before holding her hand out and offering me her rock.

It was shiny, polished, and bright blue, and I couldn’t help but reach out and take it. It was soft in my hand but also weighed more than I thought it would, considering how small it was.

She offered me her hand, and I took it. She hauled me up, and we played hopscotch until the streetlights came on. For the first time in forever, I was back in the apartment after Dad was home.

For the next week, we played together every day, and on Friday, she asked me to stay over at her house. I’d never stayed the night anywhere before, and while I was nervous about being somewhere new without my dad, I was also so excited. My dad was less than thrilled, though, and I had to beg him to agree.

I should have listened to him.

The night was normal enough to start. Sophia came down and got me, and we ran up to her apartment, laughing and joking the whole way. Her mom had pizza delivered before I got there, and when we walked in, the whole apartment smelled of it, making my mouth water. Pizza was very, very rare in my house. I’d probably had it five times in my whole life, and it was usually a small one that Dad and I would split for a holiday or birthday. It was so good I could have cried, and when her mom offered me a second piece, I almost died.

We spent the next hour watching a movie, eating, and lying on plush blankets and pillows.

It was the best night I’d ever had.

Until her dad got home.

The door opened with a bang, slamming against the wall. Before I even knew what was happening, Sophia was dragging me down the hall, our movie forgotten.

“Shhh,” she hissed, a finger pressed to her lips as she pulled me into a room I could only assume was hers. She didn’t flip the light on, so I couldn’t be sure. She closed the door, cutting off the light from the hallway and plunging us into darkness.

I kept quiet, unsure what was going on or what to say, as she continued to pull us further into the room. I heard another door before she pulled me into a tight space and closed that door too.

It took me a second to realize she had closed us in the closet.

“What’s goin—”

Her hand over my mouth cut me off.

“You have to be quiet,” she hissed in my ear. Her words trembled, and only now do I feel the shake of her hand that pressed against my face.

Whatever is going on has her terrified. Her fear bleeds into me as if through her touch, and I no longer feel the need to ask questions.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before the screaming started again.

I can’t make out words, but the tones are enough as her mom and dad scream back and forth. Something breaks, and her mom gets louder before a slap rings out, cutting her off.

She cries out, and I sink further into the closet. I was too young to really understand what was happening, but I knew it wasn’t good.

They argued for a long time before the front door slammed shut again. The silence was almost deafening after so much shouting, and when the closet door was pulled open, I couldn't stop the sob that broke free.

Sophia’s mom stood with the light of the bedroom behind her, momentarily blinding me. She flung herself into the closet, wrapping her arms around both of us, squeezing me so tightly that I struggled to fill my lungs, but it still felt nice, comforting.

I’d never had a mother in my life, never been held like that by anyone but my father, but something about it only made me cry harder.

She held us as we both cried, and when we finally stopped, she pulled us both out, and I finally got a look at her. The black eye and split lip she had that weren’t there before.

She carried us both in her arms all the way back downstairs before pounding on my dad's door.

The second he pulled it open, I was in his arms. I’m not sure if he grabbed me or if I went for him, but being in his arms felt safe, and that was all I needed to start crying all over again. Sophia and her mom came in, and my dad and her mom talked while they held us. I didn’t hear a single word they said, though, and before I knew it, I was asleep.

The next day, I woke up on the couch with Dad still holding me tight. I wasn’t sure he even slept; he looked so tired and sad.

He let me know that Sophia and her mom had left in the middle of the night and wouldn’t be back.

Now looking back on it, I’m glad they left, but back then, I’d just been sad to lose my only friend.

Most of the kids in my complex were either assholes or had friends already, and nobody liked the quiet girl who played alone. It was fine. I had a few friends in school, none of whom were super close, but it was enough, and I preferred my books anyway.