Stupid Boy

Isn’t that what normal people did? Horsed around? Played? Loved?

Kane found my thoughts again, but no sooner did his somber brown eyes and gentle voice come to mind did my grandmother shove them aside. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, trying to make her go away, back to a place where she couldn’t hurt me. But she still got in there. Inside of me. Just like she always did.

“What are you doing in here?”

I knelt on the ground by the trashcan behind the kitchen entrance. I’d found my backpack in there, where she’d thrown it away. I was digging through it, and my hand held tightly onto the only photograph I owned of my mother and father.

“Answer me!”

I jumped, my hand squeezing the picture into a fold. “No-nothing,” I stammered.

“Pull your hand from that bag right now.”

My body began to shake as I slowly lifted my hand from my backpack. I looked up, pleading with Corinne Belle. “Please. Can’t I just keep it? I’ll hide it in my—”

With a firm grip Corinne yanked me up by my thin arm and shook me. “You’ll not keep it. Did you already forget what I told you not an hour ago?” She leaned closer to me, and I could see every line and wrinkle in her pale, powdered face. “You don’t exist anymore. Neither do they!” She snatched the photograph from my hand. “Come now.”

She didn’t turn me loose; instead, she pulled me, back through the kitchen, past the pantry and out into the hall. At the hearth, a massive fire roared. Corinne Belle shoved the picture back into my hand.

“Take one last look, child,” she said. “Then throw it into the fire.”

Tears filled my eyes as I looked at her face; cruel, mean, old. Filled with hate.

“Do it now!” she thundered.

Slowly, my eyes left her, and through tears I peered at the photograph. It wasn’t a good one; a piece of the corner had been ripped off, and my parents were blurry. But I could still see them. They were young, before…the trouble began. Before me…

“Throw it in!” Corinne Belle screeched. “Now!”

I gave the picture one last look, hoping I could keep the memory of my mother’s face, my father’s smile, in my head. Then I let the flames take the photo from my hands. In a hiss, the old paper turned to black ash.

Corinne squeezed my shoulders and spun me around to face her. With a bony hand, she grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze to hers. “You are no longer Harper Lewis. Harper Lewis is dead. Your parents are dead. That life is dead.” She shook me. “Do you hear me?”

My eyes widened, and I nodded.

“Don’t you ever defy me, girl. Ever! Eyes are always on you. Do you understand? If not mine, someone else’s. And there will be serious consequences if you defy me. Do you know what that means?”

I wasn’t sure, so I shook my head.

Corinne Belle’s face tightened. “You’ll pay dearly for any mistakes you make. Your grandfather insisted we not beat your mother and look where that landed her. In the grave!” Her mouth turned flat, like a straight line across her face. “The Bible says, Spare the rod, spoil the child. I promise you, Harper. You’ll not end up like your parents. Pathetic, useless drug addicts. Sneaking around my back, having sex at sixteen years old. Sinners! You’ll not become your ungrateful, selfish mother. You’ll not shame the Belles’ good name.”

My breath started coming fast, as if it wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do to keep my body alive. Maybe I was dying, just like Corinne had said I had. My chest tightened, but I didn’t dare look away from my grandmother. I didn’t know what most of she said meant; I wouldn’t ask.

“Now come with me,” she said, and yanked my arm again. “I was hoping you’d not have to learn things the hard way, but I suppose you’ll have to all the same.” She glanced down at me. “There are many ways to apply the rod to a child without leaving marks. You’re about to learn what happens to you when you disobey.”

Panic made my breath come faster. “No, please,” I begged. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I won’t!” I didn’t even know what the punishment was. Only that she terrified me.

“That’s right. You won’t.”

Up the stairs we went, up to the third floor. The lights were off—all but one light on the wall, halfway down the corridor. It made strange shadows grow long against the floor in front of me. Where was she taking me? My breath came faster. My heartbeat quickened.

At the end of the corridor, a short, fat door with a black iron handle. We reached it, and Corinne Belle stood over me.

“Remove your fresh new clothes, this beautiful dress I purchased just for you, and hand them to me.”

Stunned, I could do nothing but stare at her, eyes wide. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I was frozen. I didn’t want to give her my clothes.

“Now!” she thundered.

Slowly, I pulled the new plum-colored dress over my head and handed it to Corinne. Next, my shiny black shoes. My skinny arms covered my bare chest.

Reaching down, she opened the small door. “Removing your clothes makes you vulnerable. It humbles you. Keeps you in perspective. Now get inside. Think about what you’ve done. And ask God to forgive you.”

I paused. Inside the small room, it was pitch-dark. Blacker than black. I could see nothing. Nothing at all.

Her bony hand pushed the top of my head down and shoved me forward. “Get. In!”