Rocky Love: Gina & Will's Story

3: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥

Most of the time, I wake up to the sound of my dad yelling at my mom.

On the bad days, it's my mom's panicked pleading or screaming. She tries to quietly take his abuse, but sometimes she can't.

This morning, I wake up to neither.

It's eerily quiet when I open my eyes. The sun is just starting to come up, so I know that I need to get up and do my chores before getting ready for school.

I get out of bed and slip a shirt on, not bothering to change out of my pajama bottoms.

I open my bedroom door and pause, listening for my father's voice.

He must have left already.

When I leave the bathroom after brushing my teeth, I hear her.

Shit.

As I walk down the hallway, I mentally prepare myself. Mama never likes when I walk in on her when she's crying.

When you live with a sick son of a bitch who will use anything and everything you do or say against you, you start to hate being vulnerable.

She's sitting at the kitchen table, her back to me, head in her hands.

My heart breaks seeing her like this. How can he live with himself?

I know better than to walk up behind her. Last time I did, she had a panic attack, thinking I was him.

"Mama," I say, softly, trying not to scare her.

Her head shoots up and I see her trying to wipe away the tears.

With her back still to me, she says,"Will, go do your chores, please. I'll have breakfast ready in just a minute."

Her voice is shaking.

I walk over to the table and sit down in the chair to her right.

Mama buries her head in her hands, before I can get a look at her face. She's either trying to shield me from her tears, or from something my father's done to her.

"Mama, I'll go and do my chores, but first you gotta tell me what he did."

She shakes her head and starts to cry softly.

"Is he gone?"

"F-for now," she replies.

"Did he go to work?"

She nods.

"Okay."

I let out a breath. At least she'll be free of him for a couple hours.

"Mama."

She starts shaking her head, because she knows what I'm gonna say next.

"Tell me what he did."

"Baby, please," she whispers, pleadingly.

"I ain't going anywhere ’til you tell me what he did to you."

When I reach out and gently start to pull her hands from her face, she lets me.

As I pull her hands away, I see the blood on her fingers. After taking a deep breath, I look at her face.

"Oh my God."

She has a gash near her temple that's steady bleeding down her face. She smeared some of the blood beneath her eyes and across her cheeks, while trying to hide her face from me.

"It's nothing," she whispers, eyes cast downward.

"Don't say that," I say, sternly,"he hit you."

"He only slapped me this time. His ring cut me. That's all."