Explosion

“Sheryl … if you say anything, she’ll think we’re weird. You have to keep quiet,” my big sister, Liz, whispered in my ear after she dragged me into the bedroom by my arm.

“Ow. That hurts. Let go.”

“Well if you hint that anything is not right around here, you’ll be hurting a whole lot more. You know what Dad will do.”

My eyes got bigger as I remembered past punishments for talking out of church

Yes. Church. We six attended regularly, the quintessential perfect religious family. Or so everyone thought. But they didn’t know …

It was hard not to slip up. I mean, I was only twelve, and everyone knows twelve-year-olds sometimes blurt out exactly what they’re thinking. Why can’t we just tell the truth? The lies sat in my stomach like a bomb, ready to explode.

Auntie Fran was coming to visit for few days and we had to be on our best behaviour. She was Daddy’s younger sister, and if there is anyone I would love to talk to, it’s her. I want to be like her when I grow up. She is beautiful. Has a good job as a teacher. And you can tell, when you talk to her, she is listening. Not like Mommy, who always has one ear out for Matty.

Matty needs a lot of attention, but it’s not him I’m afraid of. It’s Jackie. That’s what we have to keep hidden. It’s hard. I’m glad Liz sleeps in the same room, and we have a lock on the door. Even then, sometimes it’s hard to sleep. We just never know what Jackie might do.

We can’t have a kitty or a doggy any more. They went missing. We found the kitty; she had been strangled and left behind the garbage can. When Mommy asked us kids if we knew where kitty was, Jackie just smiled that evil smile. Then Liz and I found her. We never did find the dog … but I think we all knew …

So Mommy said, “No more animals.”

Auntie Fran arrived during spring break. We all got the famous Auntie Franny hug. And the gifts, the kinds of things kids love – mini staplers, jumping beans. Our parents never bought us things like that. Their extra money went to the church. Fooling everyone …

I usually didn’t get to spend time alone with Auntie Fran, but one day when Daddy was working and Mommy was busy with Matty and wasn’t able to keep an eagle eye on us, she asked me if I wanted to go for a walk.

It was a beautiful spring day and we took the river path – we could walk for miles. I skipped along, enjoying our time together. Until we came upon a family with a little Corgi on a leash. I felt my eyes cloud over as I turned my head away, trying to stifle the noise pushing out of my throat. Auntie Fran stopped, turned me towards her and enveloped me in a warm hug.

“Sheryl, honey, what’s the matter?”

“N-n-nothing,” I choked out.

“Oh honey, something is hurting you. You know you can trust me with anything.” She sat me down on a nearby bench and put her arm around me.

The ticking bomb exploded, surprising both of us. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. And she didn’t interrupt me, the way adults do. She just listened, as I hiccupped my way through, alternatively talking, mumbling, crying.

The fear gushed out of me that day. How afraid we are of Jackie, which didn’t seem right – he was only seven, after all. How our pets went missing, and what we all knew happened to them. How he has been mean to us, pinched, hit, stole, threatened, especially me and Matty. Oh, he was sneaky. He was a bully at school, too, and got away with it. Nobody went against Jackie.

Poor Matty. He was a normal little boy until he was three years old, and Jackie pushed him down the stairs, damaging his brain.

“Mommy and Daddy are going to be furious,” I said. I was afraid of what would happen to me now that I’d told. “I get the belt when I forget, and say something they don’t want anyone to know.”

Auntie Fran told me not to worry. She’d do something to help. She said she would stay until the authorities did the right thing to protect us.

After Daddy got home, I stayed clear, in the bedroom with Liz. We heard the fireworks, the yelling. Daddy denied everything, then eventually admitted Jackie was a growing problem they could no longer control. We still felt the fear, but not the fear of being killed in our sleep. That sounds extreme, but you don’t know Jackie.

Liz said, “Way to go, Sheryl. Now we have new problems.”

Hysterically, I blurted, “Guess I’d better not tell anyone you are Jackie’s mother, then and Daddy is his father.”