Don’t Let Me Break by Linda Verji

PROLOGUE

 

The Carter family was having dinner.

Correction… Three members of the Carter family were having dinner.

Their dining room, like the rest of their house, was the epitome of muted elegance and luxury. Beige drapes that had been specially chosen by an interior designer, covered the large windows on one wall. The wall directly opposite the windows boasted an expensive painting that was the work of a well-known artist whose pieces sold for shocking prices. Crystal chandeliers hung low over the mahogany oval table that had been custom-made to match the six parson’s chairs that surrounded the table.

But that was where the elegance ended.

There was nothing elegant about the woman and two girls who sat hunched at the table, silently wolfing down their food like hostages who’d been denied sustenance for days. And there was certainly nothing elegant about the paper plates they were eating from just so they could avoid breaking any of the expensive plates locked in the cabinet adjacent to the table.

Eleven-year-old Marley Carter kept her eyes on her plate and her mouth moving. Even though her stomach was already aching and threatening indigestion, she just kept shoveling food in.

Eat fast. Eat fast. Eat fast before he gets here.

Her sister, thirteen-year-old Kennedy, who was seated beside her, was just as frantic with her eating. Her plastic spoon was abnormally heaped every time it went into her mouth, and one could tell that she was trying to finish eating before the fourth member of their family swept in.

Their mother, Cynthia, should’ve scolded them for eating too fast. But she was too busy staring at the clock. It was seven-thirty p.m. now, which meant that any minute now, he would stumble in.

Cynthia Carter was the antithesis of the common phrase ‘black don’t crack’. Her black was undeniably cracked. Though she was only thirty-eight-years-old, most people assumed that she was nearing her fifties. Perhaps it was because of the dead look in her brown eyes and her never-smiling mouth. Perhaps it was because of the exhaustion that emanated from her every word and action, like a sad smell. Perhaps it was because she was all skin and bones. Perhaps it was because she’d just let herself go. Her hair was always in worn-out cornrows, her lips always looked chapped, and her daily uniform was a tired, long-sleeved t-shirt and an ankle-length skirt.

Either way, anyone who saw Cynthia could tell that life had dealt her an awful hand.

Her eyes still on the clock and her voice sluggish, Cynthia asked, “Have you girls finished your homework?”

“Yes,” Kenny replied. Marley just nodded.

Cynthia’s dull gaze swept to her children. “You know your father will be very angry if you’re not done, right?”

“We know,” Kenny replied. Marley nodded again.

It wasn’t that Marley didn’t want to speak. It’s just that she couldn’t. Whenever she was anxious, which was all the time, speaking became impossible. No matter how hard she tried to talk, no sound emerged from her mouth. The counselor at school had called it selective mutism. Her father called it rebellion.

“I’m done.” Kenny turned to Marley. “What about you?”

Even though Marley still had some food on her plate, she nodded. There was no way she was staying at this table without Kenny. Kenny was her shield. The only person she trusted to protect her.

“Then let’s go.” Kenny stood.

Just as Marley was about to stand up, they heard the jangling of keys at the front door. In an instant, fear like an electric current swept through the room. The young girls froze as horror eclipsed their expressions. Cynthia’s eyes widened. Her breath escaped from her lips in a gasp, and she sat up straighter in her seat.

He was here.

The jangling outside persisted for a second before there was a sudden slam on the door. A slurred voice shouted, “Cynthia, open this door.”

He was drunk.

The panic quotient in the room multiplied tenfold.

Cynthia shot up from her seat so violently that the force of her movement sent the chair tumbling to the floor. Her panicked gaze on her daughters, she ordered, “Kenny, take your sister to your room. And lock the door.”

With no hesitation, Kenny grabbed Marley’s hand and forced her to her feet. The girls rushed from the dining room, through the living room, and down the hallway. They’d just reached their bedroom when the front door flew open. Kenny shoved Marley into the bedroom then locked the door behind them.

The girls’ room was as pretty as the rest of their house. It flaunted a ceiling speckled with stars that lit up when the lights were off and a huge mural of the sea on one wall. Two adjoined desks sat at one corner of the room and adjacent to them was a bookshelf neatly stacked with every book a preteen could ever want. The emerald green drapes that shielded the large windows were the perfect match to the white comforters over the twin beds and the green rug between the beds.

Most people assumed that the girls’ room was a reflection of how much their parents loved them. It wasn’t. It was a reflection of how eager their father was to maintain appearances. This room was just another way for him to keep fooling the world about who he really was.

To the world, Gary Carter was the perfect man, husband, father and provider. He was a man who had pulled himself up by his bootstraps from humble beginnings to become a prominent businessman and councilman. Whenever he was interviewed by the media, he made sure to emphasize how deeply he loved his wife and daughters, and how thankful he was for their support. Women who watched him on TV scolded their husbands for not being more like him.

But everybody knows, TV lies, and what you see isn’t always what you get.

“Where were you?” Gary’s voice was so loud that despite their locked door, the girls could hear him clearly. “Why didn’t you open the door?”

Cynthia said something, but her voice was so low that she wasn’t audible.

“You’re lying,” Gary roared. “You were on the phone again, weren’t you?”

Cynthia said something, and the next thing Marley heard was… Slap! The crack of his palm on their mother’s face.

Shaking like a leaf in the wind, Marley shuffled closer to Kenny, who was standing with her back against the door.

“It’s okay.” Kenny drew her into a hug. Rubbing Marley’s back, she soothed, “It’s okay.”

Outside their room, the shouting raged on.

“Who would you call? Are you asking me who you would call?” Gary yelled. “Is that how you talk to your husband? Do you think I’m a joke? This is why those brats of yours are rude too. They see how you speak to me and think that they can disrespect me too.” His attention suddenly moved on from Cynthia. “Where are those dumb rocks anyway? Kennedy! Marley!”

Oh God! He was coming for them. Marley’s shaking increased, and she began to whimper.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Kenny soothed, even as she trembled too.

“Kennedy! Marley!” he hollered their names. Cynthia said something which earned her another slap. “Shut up.”

Stomping footsteps moved from the living room down the hallway. “Kennedy! Marley! Get out here.”

Marley and Kennedy’s trembling intensified.

“Gary, please!” Cynthia must’ve been chasing after him because she was now audible. Her voice teary and shaky, she pleaded, “Please just leave the girls alone. They’re already asleep.”

“Kennedy! Marley!” He was now at their door. The doorknob rattled as if he was trying to open the door. “Open this door!”

“Gary, pl-” Cynthia’s words ended on a shrill scream then a thump as if she’d fallen.

“Open this door!” The rattling became more violent, as if he was trying to forcefully shove the door open. “Open this door!”

The girls didn’t open the door.

“Open this door!” His fist connected with the wood. Bang! Bang! Bang! He pounded on the door like a mad man.

The girls clung to each other.

“Kennedy! Marley!” Gary kicked the door. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! His fists and feet mauled the door in concert. “Open this door now!”

Marley closed her eyes tight and tucked her face into her sister’s chest, hoping against hope that the floor would open right now and swallow them.

“I’m going to count to three,” he threatened. “If the door isn’t opened by then, I’ll-” He punctuated his words with another forceful kick.

But the girls still didn’t open the door. They knew better than to let him into their room when he was in this mood.

“One, two,” he counted down menacingly. “THREE!” A sudden crash and force shook the door as if he’d thrown his whole body into it. “OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”

“Please, Gary.” Cynthia was weeping. “Please, just leave them alone. Just talk to me.”

“Talk to you about what?” he bellowed.

A second later, another slap echoed followed by their mother’s scream.

“It’s you, right? You’re the one who told them to lock the door, didn’t you?” His words were punctuated by blows and their mother’s screams. “You’re the one who told them to be rude to me in my own house. The house that I pay for while you lazy cows are just sitting around disrespecting me.”

Marley didn’t need to be able to see through walls to know what was going on out there. She’d witnessed this scene many times in her young life; Gary, drunk and enraged, pummeling their helpless mother to the floor. Some days when the girls weren’t fast enough, they caught his fists too. And some days when they were lucky, they escaped and let their mother bear the brunt of his rage.

Some people might ask; why didn’t their mother just leave? But it wasn’t that simple. Even at her age, Marley understood that leaving was easier said than done. Gary had isolated their mother from her family and made her get rid of all her friends. He refused to let her work, and made sure that she depended on him utterly and completely. Furthermore, Cynthia was always saying that she was doing it for them. Girls needed a father-figure in their life, she said.

Well, if Gary was the father-figure on offer, then Marley would’ve preferred having none.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Cynthia pleaded between blows and screams. “I was wrong.”

“What? What are you sorry about?” Gary demanded. “What did you do wrong?”

“Whatever I did. I’m sor- ah!” Her moan rent the air. There was some scrambling then shuffling as if she was moving. Her voice moving down the hall, she cried, “Gary, please stop. The neighbors.”

“Neighbors?” He followed her down the hall. “Are you threatening me with them again? Come here?”

“Gary, no!” Cynthia’s words were punctuated by racing feet.

She was running.

He was chasing.

Soon, the usual sounds followed; glass shattering, something huge and heavy falling, more screaming, more shouting.

The girls waited for it to end. But it didn’t. It was endless.

“I’m done.” Kenny pushed Marley away from her and moved to their closet. The thirteen-year-old girl pulled out a hockey stick from the closet.

Marley’s panic multiplied, and she stammered, “Wh - wh - what will you do?”

Her voice as determined as the tight set of her lips and her firm grip on the hockey stick, Kenny said, “I’m going to stop him.”

“N- no.” Marley grabbed her older sister’s arm. “He’ll h-h-hurt you.”

“He won’t.” Her expression softening, Kenny urged, “You stay here, I’ll take care of it. Lock the door after I leave.”

Marley knew it was a bad idea to let her sister leave the room, but Kenny was as stubborn as she was strong. She easily shook off Marley’s grip then opened the door. Immediately, the screams, roaring and banging increased in volume.

“Lock the door after I leave,” Kenny commanded before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

Her footsteps faded into the commotion. Instead of locking the door as instructed, Marley opened it a little.

“You, why didn’t you open the d-” Gary’s yell suddenly changed in tenor. It became more dangerous. “Is that a hockey stick? What are you going to do with that?”

“Let her go!” Kenny screamed back.

“Kenny, go back to your room,” Cynthia ordered between sniffles.

“Let her go!” Kenny repeated.

His voice cold, Gary asked, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll kill you.” Despite her threatening words, Kenny’s voice trembled.

Immediate silence settled in the house. But it was soon followed by laughter, then a malevolent, “You can certainly try.”

The next thing Marley heard was a rush of feet, struggling, then her sister’s pained scream. The sound of fists meeting flesh soon joined the scream.

Instinctively, Marley yanked the door fully open. Marley might’ve been the weakest of the bunch, but Kenny was everything to her. She couldn’t let her get hurt. Though she had no idea how to save her sister, she rushed out of the room and down the hallway.

The scene that met her was one that she would never forget.

Kenny was on the ground with her thin arms over her face to protect it. Gary was straddling her with his knees on either side of her body. Gary wasn’t a big man. In fact, he was much shorter than Cynthia. If it wasn’t for his huge gut and dad-bod, he’d be classified as a petit man. However, when compared to the emaciated girl that he’d trapped below him, he was practically a giant. His fists fell over and over again on Kenny’s arms and upper body in tune to her pained whimpers, as if making some kind of macabre music.

Cynthia, who’d been worked over properly, was currently spotting a bleeding nose, a busted lip and a torn t-shirt. However, that didn’t stop her from clinging to Gary’s other arm and begging him to stop. But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Gary kept on punching Kenny.

Marley saw red.

How dare he touch Kenny! The fear that had held Marley hostage just minutes ago evaporated like chaff in the wind. It was replaced by a rage so hot it seared her logic and caution. She raced to their father and grabbed a healthy fistful of his dreadlocks.

Get off her. She forcefully yanked him backwards.

“Ah!” Gary groaned in pain as he fell back. The only thing that kept him from hitting the floor was the elbow he put out in time to break his fall. “The hell!”

Still gripping his hair, Marley tried to get him completely off Kenny. But she was frail, and their father was a grown man. He turned slightly and threw a punch. His fist caught her right in the temple. Fireworks burst behind her eyes as excruciating pain shuttled through her head.

The last thing Marley heard was Kenny screaming her name before she passed out.

Marley had no idea how long she was out. It could’ve been a minute or an hour. There must’ve been a part of her that didn’t completely shut down because even though it was dark in her head, she could still hear screaming, pleading, yelling and punching. She could even feel herself being moved, as if someone was carrying her out of the living room. Then she was being brought back into the room again.

A loud crack suddenly rent the air. The world stopped for a second then someone fell and a piercing scream rent echoed in the room.

“Noooo.” It was Cynthia screaming.

Marley awakened seconds… maybe minutes… later to find herself in Kenny’s arms. At the girls’ feet was a pistol; the one their father was always threatening to murder them with. The pistol had been freshly fired. And Gary was on the floor with a bullet-sized hole in his chest.

“Oh my God. Oh my God! Oh My God!” Cynthia whimpered as she crawled closer to her husband. Her trembling fingers hovered over his face. “Gary. Gary. Gary.” Her terrified gaze shot to her daughters. “Call nine-one-one. Call nine-one-one now.”

Though just as shocked as everyone else, Kenny jumped into action. She rushed from the living room to go and get their mother’s phone.

But Marley just stood there. She was too shocked to move. Her gaze moved from the pistol at her feet to her father’s supine body. His eyes were closed and blood was now oozing from the hole in his chest to stain his white dress-shirt.

Did that mean he was dead?

Was he really dead?

Oh no! Marley’s eyes widened and her hands flew to cover her mouth. But beneath those hands, her lips crooked in a half-smile.