Page 59 of Breaking Silence

“No!”

Tomasetti’s mouth twists. He doesn’t believe her. Or maybe he doesn’t want to believe her. I see him grinding his teeth. He turns to Mose. “Do you think she’s old enough to be out here with you like this?”

“I don’t—”

“How could you disrespect her like that? How could you disrespect yourself?”

Mose gulps. “I—”

He doesn’t have time to finish the sentence. Lunging at him, Tomasetti clamps his hand around the back of the boy’s neck, shoves him toward the ladder. “Get your goddamn ass down there.”

Mose stumbles, regains his footing, and shoots a nasty glare at Tomasetti. “Don’t do that again.”

“Or what? What are you going to do, you perverted little shit?” Tomasetti thrusts a finger toward the ladder. “Get down that ladder before I throw you down.” The muscles in his jaw work as he crosses to me, hands me the flashlight. I see him pulling himself back. “Get her dressed and come on.”

“Calm down.” I make eye contact with him as I take the flashlight. “He’s a minor.”

“I know what he is,” he grinds out.

I watch them descend the ladder, then I direct the flashlight beam toward Salome. She’s sitting on a bale of hay with her head down, sobbing. She holds her kapp in one hand, her panties in the other. Shit, I think, and go to her.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods but doesn’t look at me.

I shine the light on the panties in her hand. “You need to get dressed, so we can go.”

She raises her face to mine. Tears glisten on her cheeks. Her nose is running, but she doesn’t bother to wipe away the snot. “I can’t go down there. I can’t face them.”

“Yes, you can,” I say firmly. “Get dressed.”

Rising, she turns her back to me and steps into her panties, tugs them up. Then she looks down at her kapp and begins to wail. “Why is he so mad?” she chokes out.

“You know it’s wrong for you to be out here like this with Mose, don’t you?”

Plopping down on a bale of hay, she puts her face in her hands. “You don’t understand.”

“He’s your brother,” I say. “You’re only fifteen. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” she says, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

“How can you say that?” When she doesn’t respond, I touch her chin, force her gaze to mine. “How long has this been going on?”

She looks away, shrugs. “A few months.”

“Have you had sex with him?”

Her silence is the only answer I need. The thought of incest repulses me. It makes me angry and sad, maybe because I don’t know how to help. I don’t know if they can be helped. What’s done is done, and there are some things you can’t take back.

“This can’t continue,” I say. “It’s wrong. You know that, right?”

She raises her gaze to mine. She’s so young and pretty, so innocent. The loss of that innocence, so fleeting and precious, makes me want to cry. “You don’t know everything,” she says.

Something inside me goes still, and suddenly I realize she’s going to throw something unexpected at me. “What are you talking about?”

She raises her head and begins to work at the knot on the tie of her kapp. “I can’t tell you,” she sobs. “It’s too terrible. I can’t tell anyone.”

“Tell me what?” I watch her, waiting.