Brandon Enns - Islanders

Their screams were overwhelming, each high note piercing her ears and heart. Make it stop! Make it stop! It felt like her heart was outside of her chest, bleeding all over the dated flooring with floral patterns, the cheap tile cracked in many places. She was going to die if they wouldn’t hear her, if they wouldn’t stop. She watched in slow motion as her cruel bastard of a father raised his hand and closed it into a fist. She knew it was going to land. It already had before, and many times before that. Still voiceless, she watched as his large knuckles met her soft cheek, crushing her head to the side, sending her to the floor.

She didn’t help her mother. Skye ran to her bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the bed and looked down at a drawing she had been working on for quite some time. The sketch was that of a ballerina dancing on water. She was meticulous with the shading around the pointed toe on the surface of the water, making sure the rippling pattern around her was as realistic as dancing on water could be.

A whimpering sound drew her out of her room. It was coming from her mom’s bedroom, but he was gone to work now or at the bar, so she was in the clear to check on her mother. She cracked the door open, fearing what she would find. Her mom was upright in bed, staring at her through the cracked door. “Come on.”

Skye stopped. She hadn’t heard that sweet voice in a long time. “Well come on. It’s all right. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

She opened the door and stepped in. Her mother’s face was terribly damaged. Why wasn’t I there to stop it? I should have done something. Anything.

Her eye was swollen shut and her nose appeared to be broken, dried blood still stained around her mouth as she hadn’t cleaned up yet.

“How’s the drawing coming?” asked her mom.

Her mother looked angry with her. She couldn’t reply.

“Well, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” her mother said sarcastically.

Finally, through great effort, Skye spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. I feel fine. It’s like anything else, sweetie. You do something enough times, you get better at it. Taking punches, it’s like breathing for me.”

She lit a cigarette and took in a big drag. “Yeah, after a while if I’m in the right kind of mood, there’s a satisfaction to it. On the chin is better than the eyes though. On the eyes always hurts the way it should.”

Skye could feel the tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Do me a favor, yeah? Don’t marry an asshole. And if you do, don’t have no kids with him.”

Skye flinched. “You don’t mean that.”

“No? Here’s what I mean then. Every time you decide to ditch school, your mommy dearest takes a punch. You smoke pot with your friends, a punch, you get caught screwing some boy in school, a punch, you get suspended from school, a punch… I’m all punch-drunk, babe.”

Skye wanted to drop to her knees and hold herself. “I told you we should leave.” Skye had suggested it several times, but never with enough insurgence as they needed to make a strong stance against her father. But he would have come after them. He would have found them. He was maybe a drunk, but he was also a determined man. Apathy wasn’t the problem.

Her mom took another drag from the cigarette, ash falling, burning like her words. “I know what you said. Thought about it a lot… There’s no leaving. No living. Do me a favor and graduate sooner than later. That’ll make things easier.”

Tears continued, dripping down to the cold floor on her bare feet. They had missed their heating bill. Words from her mother’s lips didn’t ring true, they felt off . She was always a sweet woman that would never hurt her. Not ever. She was supposed to be her friend.

Her mother’s stare turned colder, her voice quiet and steady. “This will be you. The writing’s on the wall. May as well get in on the action. He’d be happy to have you. Maybe after he kills me, you can step up to the plate. Yeah, that’d be just fine.”

Skye awoke in her clothing on the bed where she had fallen. She was covered in sweat, a swirl of nausea cursing her stomach.

The day Skye left, she was never the same. It didn’t happen at once, but with time, she pushed her mother, the only person she’d ever love, out of her mind.

She cried for a minute and then checked the rooms for Ashton. He was still gone. What time is it?

The smell of coffee hovered in the air, bringing her no pleasure. She tried to travel to her default setting; in her garden back in New York, but her mind was underwater, trapped with that body. His skin was so white. The texture would have been sponge-like to the touch. The fiery grip around her ankle and the fireworks that shot up her leg had been so intense.

She stood and grabbed her cup of Joe. She swallowed too much coffee, scalding the back of her throat just as there was a knock on the door.

Skye’s eyes were bloodshot, the fake-bake tan nearly gone from her face. She was panicked. “Ashton didn’t come back last night?”

“What? I assumed you had found him. Why didn’t you get us?”

“I thought he’d come back. I figured—I don’t know, I just thought he went for a walk, got turned around, and would come back.”

“It’s going to be okay, Skye.” Erin rubbed her shoulder. Trevor came out of the bedroom looking half asleep still. He yawned with a sleepy grin on his face, and then realized how upset Skye was.

“Ashton?”

“Gone still.”

“He’s in Stefan’s shit hole. Some part of his game.”

“You think?” Skye perked up.

“Has to be. Where else would he go? Stefan’s just trying to freak us out,” said Trevor.

Erin watched Trevor, as a look of guilt formed.

“Listen,” he said. “Yesterday I got another note. He left it on our kitchen table. It was a clue for the final weapon. He didn’t put a pause on anything. This was probably his punishment for us. You know, get us scared, get us rattled.” Trevor finished the sentence with an agitated snigger. “God, this entire thing makes me sound like a child. Just ridiculous.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” said Skye. “I’m seriously going to kick the shit out of him.”

Erin was angry with Trevor at first, but soon understood his reasoning for keeping the new information to himself.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted us all to pump the brakes and relax. We didn’t agree to any of this shit.”

“I agree. We shouldn’t have to do this anymore. We didn’t know what the hell we were consenting to. He completely blindsided us.” Erin hesitated and spoke again. “Let’s go get him. If he plays dumb, we’ll threaten to leave.”

Trevor’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go.”

“What if he’s not there?” Skye’s eyes welled up again.

“He’ll be there,” said Trevor and smiled wide. “Skye… Don’t take this loser seriously. Ashton is fine.”

They wailed on the door and got no answer. Of course, it was locked.

The urge to vomit was kept at bay as Trevor distracted her from it, taking off in the other direction toward the old man’s cabin without consulting them first. Erin remembered Stefan mentioning Bruce but had never met the man. She and Skye followed.

Bruce was quick to answer the door. His hair was thick and combed to the side, white and gray, weaving in and out. He was a massive man, his face wide, his neck nonexistent. He was a little taller than Trevor and was wider in the shoulders, which was saying something, because Trevor wasn’t small.