Chapter Fourteen: When Things Get Worse

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August 2000

"I have to tell Dad. I'm sorry Mel, but I have to." Edie whispered to her sister one Saturday night; they sat in a hallway closet, hiding from Derrick. He was drunk and high on God knows what. Two of his friends were in the kitchen, laughing as they watched him hit Leslie. "Bill was right. It's only gonna get worse unless we tell."

"But if we tell, he'll kill us!" Mel cried.

"He's lying. He can't kill us, because if we tell, Dad will kill him before he even gets a chance." Edie stopped talking as soon as she heard the laughter had died down. The thump of heavy footsteps grew closer and she buried her sister under a pile of blankets. "Stay still and keep quiet."

"I know you're in there, Edythe." Derrick pounded on the closet door. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

"Or you could shut up and leave me alone, you stupid turd eater." She knew she was in trouble but couldn't seem to stop talking. "Hit me and I'll tell the cops. And my Dad."

"You little fucker." Derrick yanked the door open and grabbed Edie's ankle, lifting her into the air and away from the closet. "Tell anyone and I'll-"

"I'm not scared of you."

"You should be, you stupid lil bitch." He slurred and dropped her on the floor. "Now where the fuck's your sister?!"

"Like I'm gonna tell you." She spat, rubbing the back of her head. "Gimme one bruise and I'll show the police. Hit me, I dare you. Do it. Do it, Derrick. You know you want to."

"Shut the fuck up!" He screamed in her face, slapping her cheek hard. "Get back in the closet an' shut the fuck up!" Derrick pushed her in the closet and slammed the door shut.

Edie waited until the house was completely silent before leading Mel into her old room. They fell asleep huddled together in a heap of pillows and blankets on the floor. When they woke up early the next morning, Edie packed her bag and told her sister to do the same. While Mel packed, Edie tiptoed to the living room and carefully collected a handful of loose change from the coffee table and floor. If a man hadn't been asleep on the couch, she would have been able to check underneath the cushions. Derrick and the second man slept in her mother's room.

Edie made her way to the kitchen, where she found Leslie passed out on the floor, her face swollen and bloody. Edie thought she was dead and pushed back tears. "Mel, c'mon. We're going to the playground."

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Hank took one look at Edie's bruised face (a nasty bruise had formed all the way from her left ear to her nose, and her left eye was swollen shut) and punched a picnic table; she didn't even flinch. Edie had called him from a pay phone, telling him that something bad happened at the house and to pick her and Mel up at the playground. "What happened? Did Derrick do this?"

"He was beating Mom up so we hid in the hall closet. He found me but I put blankets on top of Mel so he wouldn't see her. And I told him that if he hit me I would tell the cops." Edie said cooly, like it didn't even phase her.

"She dared him to hit her and then he did." Mel whispered, eyes cast downwards. "She said she wasn't scared of him."

"Because I'm not." Edie stated and looked directly at her father. "Can we go home now? Or to see the police?"

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