Chapter 6

AJ

"JJ!!" I hear as I step out of the red Mustang. I look towards the sound and see a 5-year-old little girl rushing down the walkway of my old, creaky house. I swoop her up in my arms, sending her into a fit of giggles.

"Hey, little monster, sorry I'm late. Where's Jay?"

cradled in my arms, she looks at me with her big, green eyes.

"He's playing video games."

She scrunches her little nose.

"I tried playing with him, but he told me to leave him alone." I put her down.

"Well, he's not very nice, is he?" she starts giggling again.

"Uh-uh"

she shakes her head at each "uh" for emphasis on the noise. I smile down at her,

"Well, you can come and help me. Let's go make some Mac N Cheese."

I turn back to wave at Ren and Raven, who is still in the car, and then guide Millie back inside. I notice that the yellow-beige paint on the entire left side of the house is peeling, the two wooden steps leading up to our door are all but broken, and the lawn needs some serious grooming. I'll deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, I need to wash the dishes and clean up the living room. And I need to stay up to make sure Millie doesn't have another nightmare. I still need to get ahold of that pediatrician…. When we get inside the house, there's yelling.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU BASTARD!!" "YOUR HOUSE, YOU OLD DRUNK?! THIS IS MY HOUSE, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE"-

I cover Millie's ears and guide her into Jason's room, who has his ear pressed up against the door. I surprise him when I come in.

"AJ?"

he says. I close his bedroom door and uncover Millie's ears. "Hey," I say to him as I lightly push him away from the door

"Stop listening to that. Here, keep Millie in your room. I'll be right back."

I nudge Millie further into his room and move to walk out the door

"AJ, wait, don't go."

While pulling on the back of my shirt, Jason says I look back at him, and he pleads to me silently with his gray eyes. They're beginning to well with tears. In a whispering voice, he speaks,

"You'll get hurt again" I turn to face him.

"Jay," I begin soothingly,

"I'll be fine. I'm used to it."

I push his hair out of his eyes. He's trying to keep the tears from falling. I open the door.

"You shouldn't be."

Jason grumbles before I walk out. In the living room, it has gone from yelling to screaming and throwing glasses at the wall.

"STOP THROWING SHIT AT ME. YOU F****** A**HOLE!"

an empty glass of what was probably whiskey strikes the wall behind her, and she screams. She grabs the closest object, which happens to be a lamp, and throws it at my father, who ducks before it can hit him in the head. The porcelain shatters against the wall, and I have to shield my face from getting it in my eyes

"YOU BI-"

"Hey!"

I yell loud enough for them to hear. Their attention goes to me automatically. My dad is red in the face, his eyes filled with fury. And my mother looks disgusted that I interrupted them. I swear she gets off on these fights. It reeks of alcohol in here; something else I'm going to have to clean up tonight.

"You do realize that there are two young children in the back room. Are you both so insensitive that you can't do this privately? The window is open, for Christ's sake! Our neighbors have already tried calling CPS, but you two put on such a believable show that they didn't do anything! So for once, could you please be the adults? I'm only 16; I shouldn't have to raise two children, let alone four."

Once the words are out of my mouth, I know exactly what is about to happen. In a scary soft voice, my dad says

"What did you just say to me, boy?"

The look in his eye is extremely threatening, but I stand my ground

"I said act like an adult, for once in your miserable lives."

I respond in the same soft voice. Although my dad and I are around the same height, he seems so much bigger as he walks towards me. Fists balled at his sides.

"Do you want to rethink the dumbass words flying out of your mouth at me?"

I look him In the eye, challengingly

"Nope"

I pause. He looks at me with nothing but the intense fury of hatred. I take a step closer to him.

"Just hit me; it seems to be your favorite pastime."

before I can blink, he throws up his hands and shoves me into the coffee table

"GET UP, BOY!" he yells

"YOU WANNA TALK SMART? SHOW ME YOU KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! Then, FIGHT BACK, LITTLE BOY!"

I stand but make no move to hit him back. Instead, he shoves me again, not hard enough to make me hit the ground but enough to send me stumbling over the step separating the living room from the kitchen.

"Not so smart now, are you, boy?" he continues to shove me harder each time. "You gonna do somethin'? or just stand there and take it like a prison hussy?"

he shoves me harder and harder and eventually backs me up into the kitchen table

"Why don't you fight back? Do you like it? " he asks tauntingly. I don't look back up at him until he kicks me in the leg, forcing me to collapse to the ground. He crouches down to meet my eyes. "I'm waiting for an answer."

I meet his gaze. "I'm not scared of you. You're acting like Jason when he throws a fit."

The fury in his eyes returns; he raises his hand and slams my head into the table; the impact immediately makes me feel lightheaded and nauseated. He stands up and kicks me in the gut before leaving the house and slamming the door. I feel the blood on my head dripping from where I was cut by the glass from the coffee table, as well as the bruising from where he just kicked me. I sit there for a few minutes, trying to gain back my swirling vision. Finally, I stand to walk into the bathroom and take one look over at my mother. She's sitting on the couch rubbing her temples with a cigarette between her lips. I go to the bathroom and wash off the blood and then place a pink band-aid with Disney princesses on it over my head where I was cut. Jason's going to get a kick out of that. I shut the medicine cabinet, leaving myself staring at my reflection. I keep thinking about the lie I told in the living room, 'I'm not scared of you.' Such a lie. Why am I so scared of him? Why do I never fight back? I raise my fist to the mirror and slam it into the glass, shattering it.

I look at my tattered reflection in the broken mirror. I'm such a coward. The warmth of blood spreads across my hand. It hurts like hell, but I don't have time to fix it right now. I wrap my hand in layers upon layers of toilet paper and hold it down with superglue. I grab the Lysol from on top of the bathroom shelf and take it into the living room so I can hopefully dull the scent of alcohol.

"Stop spraying that in here." My mom says, "it's getting in my face." Then, as if to emphasize her point, she goes into a violent fit of coughing. Yep, there's the sound of lung cancer kids. I roll my eyes. Once again, I feel that anger.

"Well, Jason and Millie don't need the smell of alcohol all over the place." she scoffs,

"You care about them too much. They're people too; they're going to be around this their entire lives."

"That's only because of you! They shouldn't be exposed to this right now! Jason's only ten, and he already knows how to roll a cigarette and what type of whiskey he likes best!"

she stays silent until

"You remind me so much of your father. Whether you like it or not, Arthur, you're gonna be just like him."

I cut a glare towards her but stay silent. I place the Lysol on the entertainment center to spray it as needed and then walk back to Jason's room. Millie is huddled in a corner with Jay's softest blanket with puffy eyes, and Jason has turned up his TV so loud he didn't even hear me come in. I let out a long sigh and shake my head. I wish this weren't normal for them. Millie has noticed me by now and looks at me with pure sadness as she sees my hand.

"JJ?"

She's about to cry again.

"Hey, babby,"

I say quietly as I walk towards her. I cradle her in my arms

"I'm okay, Babby, I promise. Everything's okay. Okay?"

I feel her nod as tears soak the right shoulder of my shirt. Jason has turned off his TV and is watching us silently. I let go of Millie and walk up to Jason. I put one hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye.

"Everything's okay. Alright, bud?"

he nods once but stops when he notices my head. I expect him to start crying, but instead, he says

"Princesses? Really? Couldn't you have at least grabbed the car ones?"

I snort "you know what, I should have."

He starts laughing, and that dread I was feeling replaces itself with…. something a bit lighter.

"Okay, we need to get some food into you children before you start eating the led paint."