Novel: Filling the Cracks—Chapter Two

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Welcome to the second installment of my novel, Filling the Cracks, posted exclusively here every Wednesday for the next twenty-four weeks! Check in every week for a new chapter. (Chapter One here.)

Trigger warning: The following story contains topics that may disturb some readers, including child physical and sexual abuse, domestic abuse, substance abuse, violence, and suicide. Although there is no explicit sexuality or language, this is written for an adult audience and may not be suitable for children.

Chapter Two

Virgie stood with her shoe clutched in her hand. The vein in her forehead had bulged, her jaw was clenched, her nostrils flared, and the muscles in her neck tightened. Her mother was beyond reason. Livid, she suppressed her fury only long enough to terrify Beth’s heart with anticipation.

“Mrs. Nestor called me this afternoon. She said that you two spoke at lunch.” Virgie’s voice was dangerously soft.

Beth felt her mouth go dry, and she tried to swallow but found it impossible without any saliva. “Mommy—”

She didn’t get the opportunity to finish her sentence before Virgie wound up with the shoe and brought it down fast and hard, heel first, against Beth’s forehead. The blow stunned her long enough that she didn’t feel the second and third blows. Beth raised her arms to block the rest and protect her head from further attack. She searched for a place to escape. She sprinted past her mother into the living room, but Virgie was right behind her, swinging away with the shoe, beating Beth across the back and her skull. Each strike was painful.

Sitting on the sofa watching Gilligan’s Island, Otto observed the beating with detached interest, making himself small in his seat. He did not move further to avoid drawing attention to himself and potentially redirecting his mother’s irrational wrath toward him.

“Mommy, please!” Beth screamed, her tears blinding her. She ran in circles around the living room and doubled back to the kitchen, then from the kitchen to her bedroom, realizing she was trapped once she arrived. Virgie blocked the doorway, preventing any means of escape.

“How dare you lie about Uncle Gary!” Virgie screamed, followed by a string of disgusting insults directed at Beth. “How could you embarrass our family like this? How could you embarrass me like this?”

Beth jumped on the bed and curled up in a ball with her face buried in her pillow, her back to the ceiling. She protected her vital organs from the relentless, vicious blows. They hurt her body, but not as much as her heart. Here, she had come home thinking she would be safe. Instead, Mrs. Nestor betrayed her by revealing to Virgie what Beth had shared in sacred confidence. It had been a trap, and Beth had fallen for it. Never again would she trust another adult—if she survived to see another day.

Her pleas earned her no compassion or mercy from her mother, and eventually, the blows to her head left Beth senseless.

#

It was a dreamless sleep. When Beth woke up, she lay alone on her bed; Virgie had exhausted herself and left after Beth passed out. There was blood on her pillowcase and sheets. Beth eased herself onto her back, wincing from the pain from whatever damage Virgie had caused her with the shoe. There was more blood where her head pressed against the bed. She brushed a hand over her face and found the culprit—a large gash on her forehead right above the bridge of her nose, where Virgie’s first blow had struck her. It still oozed blood, though not as much as at first. How would she hide that from the teachers at school?

Beth’s head ached, leaving her fuzzy-brained, reminiscent of when her mother had given her cough syrup while she was sick. After the blows to the back of her head, she hoped her brain hadn’t been damaged, as it was one of her few redeeming features. Virgie had told her so.

Upon waking, Beth couldn’t remember what had caused Virgie’s attack. It took several minutes of staring at the popcorn ceiling before the memories returned to her. She’d gone to Mrs. Nestor and revealed the biggest secret of her life to someone she believed she could trust. That had been a colossal mistake. When Mrs. Nestor assured Beth that she’d handle the situation, Beth thought the counselor meant she’d stop the abuse. Instead, she meant telling Virgie about Beth’s confession, leading to the worst beating of her life when she got home. It had been a setup. Beth was a fool.

The worst part was that Gary had been right—rather than helping her and protecting her from her uncle’s abuse, Virgie chose to blame Beth and punish her for revealing the truth to a stranger. Speaking the truth was not only foolish, but it was also perilous. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The house was quiet. Beth glanced sideways at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It read five-thirty-three. She’d been out cold for about two hours, and Virgie had gone to work. Gary would arrive in about an hour if he came straight from work. Usually, he stopped first at the Coverville Hotel tavern for a couple of hours. That was a relief; it gave her time to recover and clean herself up.

It hurt to roll off her bed and stand up. At first, she swayed on her feet and needed to hold onto the nightstand until the dizziness passed. She shuffled from her room to the only bathroom in their tiny bungalow, where sounds of laughter from the TV greeted her from the living room. Otto was still watching sitcoms. Beth hoped he was safe, but she had to look after herself before checking on him.

In the bathroom, she assessed the damage inflicted upon her body by the shoe Virgie had wielded like a club. Apart from a deep, oozing gash on Beth’s blood-smeared face, bruises were forming. A couple were on her face, but most appeared on her arms, neck, and shoulders. A large lump on her head also leaked a bit of blood into her dark, short hair. Virgie kept Beth’s hair cut boyish and short; it was easier to manage that way. Her hair had a natural curl; the longer it grew, the more effort was needed to keep it free of tangles and mats.

Beth splashed lukewarm water on her face over the basin; rusty swirls spiraled down the drain. Once the blood had been washed off, she reached into the medicine cabinet and grabbed the small tube of Crazy Glue kept there. Gary had taught her how to close cuts that required stitches using Crazy Glue. After closing the cut above her nose the best she could, Beth covered it with a Band-Aid. There wasn’t much she could do about the cut on the back of her head because it was surrounded by hair. It wasn’t bleeding hard, so she figured it would stop soon. With a fatalistic shrug, she returned to her bedroom.

She changed out of her bloodied clothes and put on something clean. Beth did her own laundry. She had enough experience to know that blood likely wouldn’t come out of her pink cotton t-shirt, but she’d try. She took it to the bathroom sink, filled the basin with cold water, and placed the t-shirt in it, hoping that soaking for a few hours would prevent the stains from setting.

Returning to her bedroom, she changed her sheets, stuffing the stained ones into the hamper. She washed her bedding frequently too, but it didn’t matter if they had blood stains. That could always be explained by Beth’s menstrual cycle, which she’d begun having after turning ten, or by Gary’s abuse, which Virgie never seemed to notice anyway.

After she had cleaned or hidden the blood, she went to the living room to check on Otto. He munched on a bag of ketchup-flavored potato chips while watching Hogan’s Heroes.

“Hey, are you okay?” Beth asked him.

Otto didn’t even glance at her. “Yeah. Mom made dinner. It’s on the stove.”

Beth nodded in acknowledgment.  She wasn’t hungry, but she knew she had to eat. She often experienced low blood sugar and required three substantial meals each day, along with snacks, to prevent herself from feeling shaky or faint. That was sometimes difficult to manage in their house.

She went to the kitchen and peeked inside one of the pots. Hamburger gravy with boiled potatoes and canned corn. It was typical of Virgie’s idea of cooking—tasteless and quick. Beth had taught herself to cook inexpensive meals that tasted good, but she wasn’t complaining—she didn’t want to cook, so she was glad Virgie had prepared the food before leaving. Serving herself a plate of room-temperature food, Beth returned to the living room to watch the rest of Hogan’s Heroes with Otto while she ate. It was one of her favorite shows.

After the show ended, Beth told her brother, “Do your homework now.”

“Don’t feel like it. You’re not my boss.”

Beth didn’t argue with him. She was the closest thing to a parent that Otto had, but he didn’t appreciate that, and she didn’t have the energy to force him. She returned her plate to the kitchen and rinsed it in the sink. She’d wash it along with the rest of the dishes, pots, and pans once Uncle Gary came home and ate. Until then, she found her book bag by the side door where she’d dropped it earlier and took it to her bedroom, where she did her homework while lounging on her bed. The room was too small to accommodate a proper desk for her work.

Gary didn’t make it home until after eight; he went downstairs to his room without eating. Beth put the food from the stove into the fridge and washed the dishes in the sink—they couldn’t afford a dishwasher, or a microwave for that matter, like Lisa’s family. Beth sighed as she dried a dish with a tea towel. What was it like to be a member of Lisa’s family instead of her own?

She wouldn’t have been struck with a shoe if she had lived with Lisa. That much was certain.

At nine p.m., Beth dragged Otto away from the TV and led him to his bedroom before preparing for bed herself. She climbed between the fresh sheets and prayed to the God they spoke of in Sunday School, asking Him to keep Gary in his room that night so she could get a decent night’s sleep.

God didn’t hear her. Around midnight, Gary opened the door to her room and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him so as not to wake Otto in the next room. Beth woke from the subtle movement when he sat on the edge of her bed. It was such a common occurrence; she slept with one eye open.

As Gary violated her body, he muttered in her ear, “Virgie said you told the teacher. You little dummy. Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you told anybody? You’re lucky Virgie already punished you. If I’d done it, you wouldn’t be breathing.”

That night, he wielded a broomstick to torment her—the consequence of her speaking out of turn.

#

Beth walked to school with Lisa the next day. She was quiet and lost in thought, moving ahead of Lisa at one point. That’s when Lisa grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

“What?” Beth asked, startled.

“Your pants,” Lisa whispered, pointing to her backside. “There’s blood.” She cursed. “What’s going on?”

Beth touched the seat of her faded jeans. Sure enough, there was a damp spot. She couldn’t go to school like that. She turned and walked back home without a word of explanation to Lisa. Her friend followed her.

“Have you started your period?”

“No,” Beth said, wishing Lisa would let it go but knowing she wouldn’t. Lisa grabbed her arm again.

“Stop!” Beth protested.

“You stop!” Lisa exclaimed, lowering her voice. “Why are you bleeding? Oh my—what did Gary do to you this time?”

Beth swallowed back a sob. “Please, don’t ask me any more questions.”

“What happened to your head, anyway? Talk to me!” She took Beth by the hand and led her back to the Joneses' house. Once there, they slipped past Mrs. Jones in the kitchen and went to Lisa’s bedroom. She handed Beth clean panties and a pair of jeans; they were the same size.

“Tell me what happened to you,” Lisa insisted. Beth shifted and took a maxi-pad from her to prevent further staining.

She sat on the edge of Lisa’s bed. Since they were late for school anyway, she told her best friend everything that had happened the previous day after school. Lisa listened with her mouth agape.

“I have to tell my mom!” She gripped Beth’s hands. “Please let me tell her. Mom will help you.”

Beth shook her head. “No. No way. I’m not trusting another grown-up again. I trusted Mrs. Nestor, and I was punished for it. Next time, I might end up dead.”

“Bethie—”

“Lisa?” Mrs. Jones called from the kitchen. “Is that you? Why are you back home?” Her voice grew louder as she approached the bedroom.

Beth flashed Lisa a look of warning. “Not a word. You swore!”

Lisa’s face contorted with pain.

“Just changing clothes, Mom!” she shouted through her bedroom door. “Beth had an accident. I'm heading to school right away.”

Mrs. Jones paused just outside the bedroom door without entering. “All right. But hurry.”

The girls waited for Lisa’s mother to leave, but she didn’t. They stared at each other, uncertain of what to do.

Mrs. Jones was impatient. “Let me in at once. Something isn't right. Open the door.”

Lisa shrugged as she unlocked the door. Mrs. Jones slowly eased it open and stepped into the room. She glanced at Beth and inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her mouth.

“What happened to you? You look like you’ve been hit by a car.”

Beth stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet the adult’s gaze. “I… fell down the stairs to the basement.”

Mrs. Jones’s hands rested on her hips as she frowned. “I don’t believe you. Tell me what really happened.”

“Mom,” Lisa protested, “we’re already late for school. Can we talk about it another time, please?”

Silent communication passed between mother and daughter, their eyes meeting and conveying unspoken words. After a few seconds, Mrs. Jones relented, stepping aside. Lisa interpreted this as their cue. She grabbed her school bag and hurried out of the room, with Beth following her out of the house.

Beth still wasn’t out of the woods. Classes had already started when she and Lisa arrived, prompting their teacher to send them straight to the office for late slips. Once there, the school secretary looked at Beth, sighed, and directed her behind the desk toward the nurse’s room, sending Lisa back to class. Her friend departed, leaving Beth alone to explain her visible and covered injuries to the medical professional on staff.

Fortunately for her, all it took was a carefully crafted lie about falling down the stairs to the basement to satisfy the disinterested school nurse and get sent back to class. Lisa shot Beth a questioning look as she entered the classroom and took her seat. With a shrug, she refocused on Mr. Montague’s science lesson.

#

Thanks for reading! Chapter Three will be posted next Wednesday here on my blog, so be sure to return next week. If you missed Chapter One, you can link to it here. If you have any comments or questions, please leave them in the comment section below. Also, remember to subscribe to my newsletter and share this blog with your family and friends. Check out my other blog posts, also found here at paulinejgrabia.com. God bless and have a great week!

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