The fights were just like when Susan’s father still lived there but more violent. Her mom would yell or throw things at them. Missy was washing dishes one day and their mother didn’t like how she was doing it, so she threw a glass of ice water one her.
Missy stood stone still in shock. That is, until she began to laugh. “Do it again, Mom. That felt good.” It was a hot day, and we didn’t have any air conditioning. Leave it to Missy to come up with all the good lines.
Another time, Missy was chased around the yard by their mother with a baseball bat for hiding the Oreo cookies their mother wouldn’t share. That got a call from our neighbors to Child Support. However, as usual, she convinced them she was in the right. It happened every time they came.
Susan realized her sister was drawing all the attention to herself to protect her younger sibling. There were times… she couldn’t.
They were spending the night at a friend’s house and Missy ran off to be with a boyfriend. She didn’t make it back in time when their mom showed up to take them home. The entire ride home, Susan’s head was slamming against the emergency brake repeatedly.
So many times, Missy would try to jump in front of Susan when their mother had a particular burr in her bonnet for Susan. All that did was make it worse. Something about Susan just angered their mom.
It was a quiet night when things got really bad. Susan was in her room listening to music when her door slammed open. Her mother stormed shoving her backwards onto her bed. Threats of sending them both to live with their father rang like music in Susan’s ear.
She stood, a pain in her back spiking sharply. Her simple response was “ok” and began gathering her things.
“What are you doing?” The hiss escaped her mother’s mouth.
Susan smiled. This would be good. “Fucking packing, duh.”
In the next instant, her mom was in front of her. She slapped her hard across the face. Now, Susan knew her mother hated cursing but REALLY hated that word. Her father used it all the time so she would, too.
“I told you not to use that damn word!”
Susan smiled again. Her face stung but she barely felt it now. She raised her hand and slapped her mother back. “I cuss; I get hit. You cuss; you get hit.”
That did it. It was the first time either of them had fought back. They mostly ran or hid or made a joke that had their mother stomping away. Susan knew she crossed a line she couldn’t come back from.
She was grabbed by her hair and thrown to the ground. Her mother punched her in the stomach and side. Susan hit back but not hard enough. When sharp pain shot through her upper left arm, rage filled Susan to the point thought wasn’t possible. She returned the bite her mother gave her.
Missy ran in yelling for them to stop. She tried to grab Susan, but her sister wouldn’t let go. Turning to her mother was the next best option. She pulled at her mother’s hair nearly tearing it out. Her mom let go.
Blinking rapidly, their mom stood and ran out of the room. Missy looked at her sister. Blood ran down her left arm. “What the hell was that?”
Susan couldn’t answer.
A day or two passed and neither saw the evil woman. At school things notched up a tad. Susan’s English teacher pulled her aside and said a friend mentioned some violence at home. She insisted Susan show her the marks. Up and down her arms were scratches and bruises as well as her sides. When she showed the bite mark, her teacher took her to the nurse who proceeded to snap pictures and called the Child Support people again. Not that it would do any good.
More days passed and as expected, nothing came of the report. It was a Friday when Susan came home from school and her sister was gone. Her protection was gone. No one could save her now.
