Torn Between Two Ways

It was kind of bugging me. Okay, it was really bugging me. It hurt to see Anna hugging John like that. Not that she never hugged me the same way. I just felt… left out.

It probably didn’t help that he was hugging her back the way I did. That annoyed me, because I really liked Anna. I think I loved her. John probably wouldn’t know love if it hit him like a semi truck.

When Anna finally let go of him, he carried her upstairs in his arms. I followed, gritting my teeth. He set her on the bottom bunk. Then he took a seat right in the middle of the floor. I sat with my back against the bed.

Anna’s eyes were closed, but I knew she wasn’t sleeping. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. I couldn’t stand it when she cried, which wasn’t very often. I wanted to go and kill her father personally. I almost laughed at myself for that though. That would go over well. I could probably do it with John’s help, though. I imagined he felt the same way.

I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. It was just so obvious that her father beat her. How could he do that, though? How could he hurt his own daughter? How could he hurt poor, innocent Anna?

“When did it start?” John shot at Anna.

“When Mom died,” she answered. I saw her chin quiver and shot a warning glance at John. Anna’s mother was a delicate topic. He just glared back at me.

“Why does he do it?” John was smart enough to change the subject, at least.

Anna turned onto her side and looked at us, mumbling, “For stupid reasons. Like when I decided to so my homework before I do my chores. If I forget to close a cabinet all the way. If I accidentally leave a light on. Anything can make him mad.”

“But how can he hurt you?” I asked, desperately searching for the answer.

“Most of the time he’s drunk,” she said, as if it explained everything. I thought that wasn’t enough of an excuse for a man to beat his daughter.

I moved to sit on the bed next to her. I touched the bandage on her head and the bruise on her cheek. “How does he live with himself?” I demanded before sliding back to the floor.

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” she whispered.

“That’s not good enough!” John exploded. “He had no excuse!”

A shadow crossed over Anna’s expression. “He does now. He wasn’t even drunk when he showed up here. I shouldn’t have stayed here last night. He’ll hurt me tonight.”

“No, he won’t,” John said furiously.

“You can’t go home,” I agreed. “If he’s going to hurt you, I’m not letting you go home.”

“Me neither,” John put in.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” Anna retorted. “He’ll call the police.”

John and I were silent for a few seconds. Then John pulled out his cell phone. “Let him call the police!” he exclaimed. “Your bruise speaks for itself. They can’t make you go home if they think your dad beats you.”

“What if they don’t believe it?” Anna asked quietly. “Then what? Then I go home, and he kills me? Maybe he actually will kill me this time.”

“He won’t kill you, Anna,” I said. I tried to sound confident, but I wasn’t too sure. Would he kill her?

“If he does, we’ll kill him,” John assured her.

She almost smiled. Almost. “I believe that, but what good would that do if I was already dead?”

He scowled at her. “Why must you always ruin my plans?” he asked jokingly.

Anna rolled her eyes. “You ruin them yourself. I only point out the flaws.”

John didn’t have anything to say back. At least he had gotten Anna to forget about her worried for a few seconds.

We were interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. I got up and opened it. My mom strode in, a purposeful spring in her step.

We all looked up at her expectantly.

She was not smiling, but she wasn’t frowning either. “I thought it all out,” she declared. “And Anna, you are not going home tonight.”