Struggles

"Ms. Bridge?!"
"Marcus! I'm sorry, you said to stay away and so naturally I was very worried and then with your behavior yesterday I was even more worried about you. Your father came home and you panicked and kicked me out and looked quite scared." Ms. Bridge huffed out in a single breath. "Oh my God!"
"Ms. Bridge, are you okay?" I asked instinctively putting my hand out to her. She grasped onto my hand.
"Am I okay? The true question is are you okay! Your face...Oh God, what happened? Marcus, did your father hit you?" Ms. Bridge asked appalled. I tried to slip my hand gently away from her grip, but she held on tight.
"I...fell when I was outside...last night...onto some broken up concrete...face first...and hurt myself." I quickly lied, piecing together bits of info that ran through my mind. I pulled my hand away from her more roughly, but she gripped it even more.
"Marcus, I truly don't believe you. I know your father hits you, and you know it too, you go through it! I can help it stop, you can stop it! All you have to do is tell me the truth, can you do that? You're not a child anymore, Marcus; you're a teenager who knows right from wrong. You know that what your father's doing is wrong, don't you? None of this is your fault, okay? Do understand what I'm telling you?" Ms. Bridge asked me.
I nodded, I did understand everything she had said, I just wasn't ready to tell yet. Sure I wanted it to stop completely, but if the state didn't succeed then I still had to live with my dad, not the state. My dad would likely kill me before anymore complaints were filed.
"Yeah, Ms. Bridge, I understand. Do you want the truth?" I asked her. She nodded, but she didn't get the answer she was expecting. "I can't tell you the truth. If I tell you then you'll tell the state so they can help me, right? Well, let’s say the state gets involved, okay? We go to trial and everything. You know what the state will see? A boy with a terrible past of lying and stealing and not-so-good school record trying to express himself in the only way he knows how to, by blaming someone else for attention.
"The only person close enough for him to blame is his father, so he comes up with this wild story about how his father abuses him. Now, this story wouldn't be very believable without bruises and cuts and gashes and scars and shit, right? So what does this boy do, he hurts himself of course. Now it's believable right? No, it's not.
"So the state releases him back to his father, who was actually abusing him but who'd had such a solid case because of this boys past he didn't get caught. This father would beat and or kill his son for bringing such crap to his doorstep. Can the state get him? Yes, double jeopardy only works for the beating, not the killing. So this boy’s father would, what, probably ten years, maybe life at the most, but he wouldn't feel bad for killing his son, he'd feel bad or getting caught." I stated. Ms. Bridge looked at me, horror in her eyes. "How does that sound to you Ms. Bridge?"
"Marcus, all I know is that won't happen to you. I can't promise a whole lot, especially not such a skeptical boy like you, but I will promise to try my best to help you, because you're such a sweet boy and you so don't deserve this." Ms. Bridge's voice wavered as tears built up in her eyes. She suddenly hugged me, holding me tight in her arms. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there with my arms at my side, waiting for her to let go. Once she did she still held onto my arms, keeping them at my side as though she were scolding a small child.
"Marcus, please try to help me so that I can help you." Ms. Bridge said in her soft, pleading voice. I sighed and nodded my head.
"I won't tell you everything..." I said.
"That's fine, let's just start with last night." Ms. Bridge said. After a minute I told what happened after she left all the way up to when I went to sleep, leaving out the dream and this morning’s barf-feast. Ms. Bridge looked ready to cry for me, and ready to hug me again.
"Marcus, I had no idea it was so bad for you." she looked me in the eye. I laughed bitterly.
"Heh, you think that was bad? Compared to some of the shit my dad's done to me last night was a cake walk! Ms. Bridge, have you ever had someone take a knife, hold it to your skin and scrape it back and forth, simply because you forgot to cut a piece of chicken to the right size? Let me tell you something, it hurts like hell and it doesn't heel very pretty either!" I said, thrusting my arm out. She looked at my arm. There wasn't much to see unless you knew, right on my inner forearm is two pink lines about two inches apart and between them for a length of four inches, starting about two inches above my wrist to about two inches down from my inner elbow, was all a bright pink and indented into my skin.
This time Ms. Bridge didn't hold back, she hugged my arm tight to her chest. I didn't move at all, instead I patiently waited for her to finish. She was crying; I could feel her shoulders shaking. I glanced at the clock, it was almost noon already, and I had five hours to do the chore list. Now there was no way I could do it.
"Ms. Bridge, I hate to be rude to you but...would you mind leaving? I'm sorry, but I have this massive chore list and only five hours to complete it, so..." my voice trailed. Ms. Bridge nodded.
"Yes, you're probably right. Marcus, I know you don't want me to, but I'm going to call social services and report this." Ms. Bridge informed me.
"I understand, and go right ahead. But before you do, please make sure you have a solid case against them. The investigation will last only thirty days from what I've researched, but when that time is over school still won't start back up for another few weeks. Word will get around and dad will get angry. I'm sure you can imagine the outcome should it go negatively. Please wait until you know completely that you would win this case." I begged. I knew in my heart that if we lost the case my dad wouldn't let me live to see another one.
"I don't know Marcus, as a teacher it is my duty to report anything like this as soon as I know something, and well, I know something.” Ms. Bridge said softly in an apologetic voice. I nodded, I knew that before I even asked her, I was just grasping for a different line. Ms. Bridge left only one hand on my shoulder, lightly resting there.
“Marcus I have a favor to ask of you. If your father tries to hit you tonight, would you runaway? I know that as a teacher I legally can’t ask you to do that, but still. I want you to try to escape from him; don’t allow him to hit you any more, please. Marcus I am begging you to do this for me and most of all, for you.” Ms. Bridge pleaded with me. I nodded to her but shook my head to myself, how could I do that? Dad was stronger than me, and I’d tried the running thing before but the punishment was worse after I ran than it would’ve been beforehand. Ms. Bridge nodded her head and gave me a reassuring pat on the arm. Then she left, promising me she’d try to stop by tomorrow. I waved weakly as she drove off, and then sunk down on the porch.
What would dad do if I were to take off? I were to just fly off this porch and down the road to fifth avenue, go to green street and turn until I reached second avenue and just kept going until I either passed out or got arrested or something, what would he do? I laughed bitterly to myself, I already knew the answer. He’d play the kind, loving father who was so worried about his son. Once the cops left his son would disappear for a few days until he had ‘learned his lesson’. I knew this story inside and out and from every possible angle, there was no real escape.
After a few minutes I went back inside and grabbed my sponge once again. I hummed in my head and then out loud. I lost myself in the music that rang out loud as day in my own head, and I danced through the chores one-by-one until my dad came home. When he did he was surprised to find me working on the last room of the house, the next-to-last chore on the list.
Dad came into his bedroom, where I was dusting the baseboards, what little there was in his room anyways. When I finished I turned around and ran into his huge stomach.
“Marcus, I see you’re just about done with the chores here.” He said calmly. I nodded, sort of afraid because I still had one chore left to do. “All that’s left is the vacuuming, right?” I nodded. “I’ll give you a half hour to do it, and do it right you understand?” Again, I nodded.
Dad nodded to me and left his room, going into the kitchen and pulling our frozen dinners from the freezer, I heard two dinners get set down on the counter. I was confused, who was this man and why was he being kind to me? Sure, I liked the fact that he didn’t hit me for running into him, and I love the fact that I’m still breathing even though I still have a chore left on the list, but this man was showing a strange side of himself that I’d never seen directed to myself before, only to Michael. As I finished vacuuming dad came in and nodded in approval. He placed his hand on my shoulder and I flinched. He smiled and lead me to the kitchen.
"There you are Marcus, eat up." dad said pointing to a microwaved dinner sitting on the table, it was beef stew. I was rarely allowed to eat wih him at all, let alone at the table at the same time, so I was definitally suspicious of him by this point.
"Dad?" I said shyly. He nodded. "What's going on?" Dad clamped my shoulder tighter in his hand, then released me.
"Marcus, I'm simply trying to make amends." he said with a wicked smile. His smile creeped me out, as did this whole day so far. I thought about Ms. Bridge and my situation. Maybe things are starting to change! I thought to myself with a smile.
I picked up my fork and started to eat, very slowly. I was extreemly hungry but I wasn't sure when I'd eat next or when dad's crazy mood would end, so I was savoring every bite I could.
"So Marcus, have you heard from your brother?" dad asked taking a bite from his food.
"No, he hasn't talked to me for a while." I said, even more confused.
"Well, he left me a message earlier today, he wants to visit us while you're off break. I told him I'd run it by you but that it sounded okay to me." he said, washing his food down with a sip of his hot tea. Something clicked in my head, so that's why the strange attitude! Michael wants to come for a vist so dad's buttering me up so I'll behave and not expose his dirty little secret!
I set down my fork. "Make amends, huh?" I said, looking him square in the face. "How long until he gets here?"
"He comes tonight, leaves in two days." dad said. I smiled to myself, dad wouldn't dare to hit me while Michael was here, so I got two and half days of pure freedom!
"Okay, I understand now." I said with a nod.
Dad glared at me for a moment. "Don't get no ideas, your brother's sleeping in your room, you're in the attic, understand me? And when it comes to eating together as a family, you'll eat what I give you, not a morsel more!" he took another bite of food, then continued talking before he finished chewing, "And also, you're not gonna mention any of this or anything about us, understand?"
"Yes sir." I mumbled, knowing that my 'pure freedom' was now limited. Although I knew it would be from the very begining, I could still hope.
"Now, finish eating so you can go set up your bed for Michael, I want you put away all of your shit so that it won't affend Michael. Then go set up your bed in the attic, if it's not done before Michael gets here you're sleeping on the attic floor." he continued to eat, his way of saying now do what the hell I just said for you to do you lazy boy!
I finished eating my food and went off to my room to figure out what could possibly affend Michael. Eventually I just shoved all the things that were on my desk, except my journal(also could be called a diary), into the drawers. I grabbed the spare sheets and comfortor and pillows out of my closet and went up to the attic. Quickly I made my bed, then went to change out of my 'work' clothes into 'Michael acceptable' clothes, even though I was sure he didn't care what his little brother wore as long as it fit him.
At about eight-thirty a care pulled up to our house, Michael was here and the ruse could now commence. Michael got out of his car and dad instructed me to grab his bags, there was only two. We all went inside and I put his bags in my/his room.
When I came out Michael opened his arms for a hug, I ran up to him and hugged him so hard you've thought he'd died and just came back!