Trying to Find a Way

Chapter twenty-two

I sprint out of my seat.

Heart racing, not able to think straight.

Before I could reach the door, Troy grabs my wrist.

With pleading eyes, I stay.

Troy supports me with by holding my waist.

I'm numb, not able to comprehend all of this.

He slowly places us back onto the couch.

What happened to if I didn't want to listen, I could leave ?

I stare at Bea. She is looking at her opened hands. Something about it makes me just die.

Seeing her like this is weird. She was always so snubbing.

What happened to her?

"Where did you go after you left here?" I croak.

My throat is raw.

She looks up at me with tears glistening in her eyes.

Bea speaks.

"Whenever they took dad away and you collapsed outside," she said, "they started to look around the house for evidence of why you collapsed because they saw the bruises."

"They saw your room, how it was like a closet.  They went through your stuff and saw all of your clothes, rather the rags that I gave you."

I wince.

She continues.

"I watch them.  I saw what they were doing.  My mind was fully understanding that I was a bitch.  I treated you so poorly.  How you suffered the pain that I gave you.  You have no idea what hit me.  Whatever it was it hit hard.  I learned that it was guilt," She pauses. "I could not stand it.  Guilt comes quick; it eats at you until you confess, at least do something to get it away."

My hands are shaking.

Why am I not dead?

"I confessed.  Everyone asked me questions, wanting to know if I was covering up for someone or if I was lying.  I told them everything.  They took me to a place where people with not right minds went.  I didn't know I had a problem until I was told.  Something in me felt weird, I knew I wasn't right."

"They helped me.  I'm better now." She ends.

Silence.

That's the only thing that is stopping me from saying something, anything.

"Please say something.  I want to know that you heard me, that you know the true story." She's begging.

My sister, is begging.

Words aren't in my throat at the moment.

They are stuck in my head floating around trying  to make sentences, trying to find its place.

I open my mouth, seeing if anything will flow out; nothing.

My eyes look at my lap.

I can't even look at her right now.

"Why did you hurt me so bad?  You had to see how much pain I was in." I start to get angry.

Letting it out is my only answer right now.

My eyes move to the wall.

"I used to go days without eating.  Days!  It's because you convinced dad that I did something oh so horrible that I didn't deserve to eat!  I used to g-go to bed with bruises that were throbbing because you hit me, kicked me, slapped me, or clawed at me," I sigh, "You know what's worse out of all the things?" I question.