Smoke Bomb by Abbi Glines
Trinity
Eleven Years Old
I was hungry. My stomach growled, and I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to decide what to do. Facing Tabitha, my stepmother, each morning was difficult enough, but this week, her son, Roy, was visiting from college. He scared me in ways Tabitha didn’t.
The bacon she had cooked for him smelled so good, but I already knew she wouldn’t let me have any. I’d be given an apple or a can of peaches if we were out of fresh fruit. Later, when she went to the church’s planning meeting for their fall festival, I could sneak in the kitchen and make a sandwich. It would be dinner when my dad was home from work before I got my first real meal of the day. She would make something special for Roy, and I’d get to eat it too. Last night, Dad had worked late and missed dinner, so that meant I had been left locked in my room. If Dad wasn’t here to see me eat, then I didn’t get to eat.
When he had married Tabitha, she hadn’t started off hating me—or maybe she did and hid it. The first time she told me I was fat because my breasts were getting big, she wrapped me in athletic tape to flatten them, then made me drink this awful stuff that caused me to vomit. She said I had demons in me and she had to get them out. I went to Dad and told him.
That had been my first mistake. Tabitha had gotten worse after that.
I swallowed nervously and stood up to walk to my door and listen. I could hear Roy talking and Tabitha’s laughter. Perhaps she was in a good mood with her son here.
My stomach rumbled again, and I closed my eyes and prayed. “Lord, please let her be nice today. I really want some of that bacon. I’ll be good. I won’t make her mad,” I whispered, hoping he was listening. Although I had no proof that he ever had before.
Opening the door, I stepped into the hallway and walked toward the kitchen. The delicious smells grew stronger, and my mouth watered.
Yesterday hadn’t been a good day for me. Tabitha had come into the bathroom when I was bathing and seen me without the athletic tape around my boobs. She was furious, accusing me of going behind her back and eating. That an eleven-year-old didn’t have boobs my size. She claimed I was gluttonous and sinful.
She grabbed my arm and jerked me out of the tub, then made me drink that awful stuff so I would vomit. I did. Several times. Until there was nothing left.
Roy had arrived later that day, and I’d been sent to my room with a warning not to come out.
My boobs were smashed down as tightly as I could get them. Before walking into the kitchen, I looked in the mirror one more time, making sure I appeared as flat-chested as she seemed to think I should be.
The laughter and talking silenced when I entered. Tabitha swung her gaze to me with the disgust and hatred I was accustomed to seeing.
“Good morning,” I said, then forced myself to look at Roy, who was looking at me in a weird way that gave me the creeps. “Hello, Roy.”
He took a bite of bacon and sneered at me.
“What are you doing out of your room?” Tabitha snapped.
“I, uh … it’s, uh, breakfast, and I’m hungry,” I replied.
She let out a laugh that chilled me to my bones. I knew that laugh. It didn’t mean anything positive. “You’re always hungry. You’d eat us out of house and home if I allowed it. Benjamin works hard enough. He doesn’t need his selfish daughter making me spend even more on groceries.”
Roy chuckled from across the room.
Tabitha took an apple from the bowl on the counter. “This is all you need. You’ve got enough fat on your body already.”
I took the apple and sank my teeth into it before she could change her mind. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
“That’s disgusting. Take it to your room and eat it. We don’t want to be subjected to your gluttonous behavior,” she barked at me.
I hurried from the kitchen, still eating my apple on the way to my room. I didn’t mind that she wanted me to leave. Being in the same room with them wasn’t something I enjoyed either. Closing my door, I sank to the floor and ate the entire apple—core, stem, and even the seeds. I never knew when she was going to let me eat again. If Roy was here all day, then I wouldn’t be able to sneak into the kitchen for a sandwich.
“Please, Lord, let my dad come home for dinner,” I prayed.
