What Nobody Else Sees

chapter one

From the kitchen window, Callie could see the headlights of the red pickup truck shining down the long dirt road. Dust flew behind its speeding, uneven path. She tried to steady her breathing. Maybe he was in a good mood. Maybe he wasn't drunk.

Those little 'maybes' were rarely true.

Wiping her clammy hands on her dress, Callie pulled her jean jacket tighter around herself. The inner pocket was heavy. She muttered a quick prayer that he wouldn't notice, that he would be too tired to pay attention to details. Even the empty kitchen had her on edge, constantly looking over her shoulder at every creak and groan the old house gave. Her sandals clicked against the tile floor as she paced. Her old dog looked up at her in concern, laying in the corner of the kitchen. There was a well loved stuffed bear under his paw. A Christmas gift from Peter. She paused, giving his head a quick pat.

Max had been hers since she was just fourteen, and he had stuck with her through it all. Exams and graduation, moving out and getting married, the late nights and the beatings. Everything in Callie's world fell apart. Everything except her dog.

Even if Peter was having a bad night, her dog wasn't going to get hurt. Not this time, not ever again.

The headlights were coming closer, casting eerie shadows on the light blue walls. Lights reaching even the living room, Peter's prized baseball bat seemed menacing. He called it his good luck bat, the reason he was the best player on Key Creek High School's baseball team years ago. Those days of stability and forever were far behind them, replaced by fear and estrangement and bruises.

If she was being entirely honest, she wanted to burn the bat to ashes.

Callie ran her fingers through her blonde hair. She carefully avoided the knot on her forehead. Remembering how she had gotten the mark made her shudder.

The low rumble of the engine stopped just outside of the house. Paralyzed with fear, Callie closed her eyes tight and listened to the truck door slamming. She finally managed to bring herself back to reality as the doorknob began to rattle. With a pounding heart, she tried to sit as casually as possible at the kitchen table. She grabbed the nearest magazine and flipped to a random page. Something about how to please men, how to be a good woman, all those useless how to's that never really changed anything.

The door swung open. In came the stench of beer and blinding rage. Callie turned around to face the man who brought her so much pain, so much sorrow, so much fear.

"Hi, honey," she said, forcing a smile onto her face. He wasn't quite drunk, but he had more than a few beers. She could always tell by his footsteps. There was no stumbling tonight, but there was a sway, as though he was being blown by some nonexistent gust of wind.

The man scowled in return. "Don't 'hi, honey' me. Use my name. I've told you that before."

Callie bowed her head, a blush covering her face. It was going to be one of those nights. "Ok, Peter. I'm sorry."

Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's alright, I wish you wouldn't say you were sorry so much."

She bit back another apology. Peter fell into a chair beside her, his head in his hands. He slumped down.

"How was your day, Cal?" he mumbled, slightly muffled by his arm.

She perked up. "It was pretty good. I bought some flower seeds."

He raised his head, eyes shining with interest. "What kinds?"

"Red poppies and magnolias. Do you like those?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.

"Yeah, those are nice," he opened his mouth to continue, but paused, grabbing his head with his free hand. He winced.

"Does your head hurt? Should I get you some medicine?" Callie gently said, squeezing his hand. He glanced up at her. He looked fragile. These weren't the good nights, but they certainly weren't bad nights. If he let her take care of him, Callie could pretend nothing had ever changed. She could pretend they still had a chance at a loving, forever family.