Break Me

I gasped at the bruise that stretched almost the entire length of her forearm, especially dark around her wrist. This was no accident. She had been beaten. And, underneath the bruise, I could see scars. Now I understood why she wore sweaters year round.
“Lia. Who?” I breathed.
“My mom,” she whispered. “You?”
“My dad. My mom is an alcoholic. She’s always either sleeping or parting. My dad’s the one who’s home.” The one who beats me. She seemed to understand the words I hadn’t said.
“My dads dead,” she told me. “He was in the military. Mom was calm until he died. That’s when it started.” She looked down at her arm, and so did I. I found myself admiring her moms strength, then shook the thought off, sickened. She quickly pulled her sweater arm back down. I took out another piece of paper, this time to talk to Lia with. But there was something I needed to do first. I took my cell phone out of my pocket, typed a quick message to Emily.
Are you okay? Lia took the paper from under my hand and began to write. My phone vibrated.
Yes. I love you, she had written.
I love you too. More than anything.
I know. I sighed and put my phone away. There might have been a ton of mayhem in my life the past few hours, but my Emily was safe and bored in class. Lia passed the paper to me.
L: My dad was a good man. Things were perfect while he was alive, she wrote.
J:My life was always messed up.
L:I’m sorry about that. My moms an alcoholic too, and she gets angry when she’s drunk. Which happens to be all the time.
J:So she beats you just whenever she feels like it?
L:Pretty much.
This awoke and anger in me almost as fierce as when I thought about my dad touching Emily. I would kill him if he ever did. I would serve a lifetime in jail to protect her. I wanted to hurt Lia’s mother right now. I began to feel and almost brotherly affection towards her, a want to protect her that went past rationality.
J:I want to help.
L:No.
J:Why not? Things aren’t going to get better by themselves.
L:You don’t know that.
J:Stop being so defiant. I’m helping.
She sighed, knowing that I couldn’t be deterred.
L:Okay.
J:Thanks. How about...tomorrow?
L:Sure.
The teacher came down the aisle, and Lia quickly tucked the paper under her notebook, and busied herself with notes.
“Lia,” said the teacher.
“Danke, lady,” said Lia, and gave the answer to a question I hadn’t heard. I knew for certain that she hadn’t been paying attention to the lesson today. She must have pre-read the chapter. When the teacher was gone, I slipped the paper out from under her notebook. She looked at me strangely.
“Written proof,” I whispered. She smiled, and so did I. I had finally found something in common with Lia.