Leaving

“I’m outta here!”

Those simple words stopped my thirteen year old heart in its tracks. I felt myself inhale sharply and hold that breath, unable to set it free. I cowered down by the wooden railing that ran along the second story of our country home. I was right by the stairs, holding to the decorative railing like I was a prisoner, begging to be set free. My auburn-brown hair fell like curtains around my face and hung limply to my waist, and I sat on my hunches, shaking in my simple cotton nightdress like it was below freezing. But it was not cold at all. In fact, it was sweltering, and sweat was running down my nose.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Jeremy?” I heard my father shout back.

I could smell the alcohol on my old man even from where I was. They—my arguing father and brother—were in the kitchen, which was down our carpeted staircase and one room to the left, separated from the small foyer by a tiny hall. I heard the crashing of glass on a hard surface and could simply imagine my father, in the heat of a drunken stupor, smacking his long-necked brown beer bottle down on the oak dining table, breaking it like he was about to take part in an Old West saloon fight. After all this time, I still jumped at the sound.

“I can’t take this anymore, Dad,” my brother, Jeremy, responded.

He was no longer yelling, which made it hard to hear his reply to my father’s colorful question, but I still managed. I scooted a bit closer to the staircase, daring to peek down it like I expected someone to charge up and tell me I did not belong here. My grip tightened as I moved my hands down to grab two new railings, turning my knuckles white. I finally released my breath, which sent my hair fluttering momentarily in front of me. I was still shaking and, for a half a moment, I was afraid I was going to lose grip and go tumbling down the stairs. Dad would not like that, and so my grip tightened even further.

There was silence now in the kitchen, and this frightened me more than the yelling. I had grown accustomed to the yelling in the past few years and had learned that silence was not always golden. Finally, I heard Jeremy sigh.

“Three years, Dad. Three damn years…ever since…and you’ve been like this. I have bruises, and have mended bones and bloodied lips. All because you’re pissed at life. Well, I’m not going to be your punching bag anymore. I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He was serious. He was going to leave. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, and I tried my best to blink them away. In the end, I still had to sniffle. A soft growl followed this movement, and I cowered, preparing to spring up and run up the hall to my room.

“Lily!” I heard my father scream for me. “Your little ass had better not be up there listening!”

I heard a temporary rush of feet, and then my brother shout, “Leave her alone, Dad! She’s just scared!”

I launched to my feet, involuntarily, at that. I gripped the top of the railing now. The rush of feet had stopped, and I knew my brother had just saved me from a severe beating. The smack of a hand connecting with a face let me know that he had only saved me from my beating…not one of his own. However, the sound that followed that was unfamiliar to me. It still sounded like flesh on flesh…but also something harder.

“How does that feel, Dad? How does it feel to be beaten back?” I heard Jeremy ask.

I gasped and shoved a hand to my mouth. Jeremy had hit him…punched Dad! He had fought back. It was something I knew that we had both thought about several times…but something that I, at least, would never have had the strength to do. At that, I saw Jeremy, his hair the same wheat-color as Mom’s had been, round the corner and mount the stairs two at a time. He paused in front of me for just a moment before moving around and going into his room. I followed.

I stood at the foot of his unmade, boy-smelling bed and watched as he pulled out a large duffle bag. He began shoving several outfits into it…shoes, pants, shirts…all the bits.

“You really mean it?” I whispered.

He paused as he was pulling out his “secret” stash of money—secret from Dad, not me. He looked up, all the anger gone from his face. With a sad smile, he shoved the money into a side pocket of the bag and zipped it shut. He put a hand on my cheek then, and the tears started to flow freely from me.

“I’m sorry, Lily. I’m never going to be anyone if I stay here under his thumb. I have to get out,” he whispered.

My chin quivered, and my lips twisted with sadness and anger. “You’re leaving me! Just like Mom left us!”

It was a low blow, and I regretted saying it as soon as it had left me. I saw his eyes widen with the shock, then soften again as he knelt down to my height. He rested both hands on both of my shoulders.

“Mom didn’t mean to die, Lil. She was sick,” he explained, as if I had not heard this a million times before.

I sighed and rolled my wet eyes. “I know…I didn’t mean…”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. “I know. I am sorry that I’m leaving. But I’ll come back for you.”

“No, you won’t.”

His grip tightened on my shoulders…not enough to hurt, just enough to make sure he had my attention. And he did.

“I will, Lily. Give me time…time to establish myself, make some cash. Then I’ll come, and I’ll take you away from him. He won’t hurt you anymore…until then, don’t piss him off. Try your best.”

I nodded. He stood and kissed my forehead. “Now…don’t see me off.”

“What?” I almost shouted. “Why?”

“Cause then Dad will think you were in on this…and it’ll earn you a beating. Fuck that. Go to bed, Lily. And remember what I said. Go to your room, and don’t look back, okay?”

I nodded, but could not make my feet move. He shook his head, his almond-shaped brown eyes wet now. He gave me a gentle little shove, and I finally made it out of the door of his room. I walked all the way up to the end of the hall, and turned right into my darkened bedroom. I knew it by heart, so, without touching my light switch, I crawled straight into bed and closed my eyes.

In the morning, I would remember his promise…but that would not make missing him any easier to bear.

A/N- This is in response to the Guild of the Fantastic Quill’s NaNoWriMo backstory challenge, in order to help us get to know one of our characters before the beginning of next month. Lily will play the main character in my upcoming NaNo novel, The Order of La Spara. This is merely a significant moment in her life.