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The Past
Hunter age eight
The broom stick lands across my bare back as I hug my bedpost that my tied arms have no other choice but to hug. It hurts every time the wooden broom handle strikes my back in a fiery heat of blaze.
“Do you still love her,” Grace asks.
“Forever,” I whisper through the blood in my mouth.
“Wrong answer!” she hits me again.
Tears flow down my cheeks and drip from my chin. Hero and Naya scream somewhere is the background.
Grace makes them watch.
She always makes them watch.
Mother thinks she can use their screams as motivation to change my answer.
To change my mind.
I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the pain and the screams.
It doesn’t help.
“Do you love her?” she asks again.
I take a deep breath through my burning tears and hiccups to answer, “Forever.”
The broom handle comes crashing down on my back and I howl out in pain. Their screams get louder.
I sag into the poll, gasping for breath.
My back is torn open and bleeding.
She can kill me.
I’m never going to change my answer.
Not ever.
“Tell me what I want to hear. Do you still love, Isabel?”
“Forever.”
She hits me again and again and again.
I keep my eyes closed tight and begin to float away where Isabel’s touch can reach me.