BrookLyn's Journey (26 page)

“Now,” he said
,
pushing
her,
“clean your room.”

She
didn’t get hit with his belt
,
but hanging in the air with him controlling the air coming through
her
windpipe wasn’t any picnic
either
.

BrookLyn
wiped
her
nose with
her
sleeve and then slowly walked into
her
bedroom leaving him adjusting his clothes. As he left
her
room and walked down the hallway,
she
heard him mumbling something to
her
mother that sounded like, “Why does she always make me upset?”

Really
?
She
was in a fog and hoped this was the end of the pregnancy accusations and any other interactions with them today.

As
she
cleaned up
her
already immaculate room,
she
found a
nother
journal in
her
dresser drawer that
her
sister
had given her
on one of
her
birthdays.
BrookLyn
had never used it before because
she
didn’t trust
her
parents.
Because it was a gift
they knew she had this one,
and she knew
as soon as
she
got done writing the words, they’d be reading them
,
unless she hid it
well enough
.

The inscription on the cover made
her
smile.
She
read aloud to
her
self
, “Dream big or dream small. The size of your dream doesn’t matter just as long as you dream.”

BrookLyn’s
dreams got bigger each morning when
her
feet hit the floor.
Her
parents were trying to block them
,
as they tried with
her
brother and sisters. They couldn’t.
She
wouldn’t let them. Despite the pain
she
lived in
,
her
focus had always been on
her
escape.
That was BrookLyn Scott’s
biggest dream
—
to escape his hands
.
A
nd
she
still planned on doing that.

She
rubbed the pages of
her
journal
. Her
monstrous mother would probably find it during one of her weekly searches
if she
wasn’t careful—or lucky.
Knowing her like
she
did,
she
knew
her mother
would share it with
him
before she even
finished
read
ing
it.
She would have to keep it with
her at all times.

BrookLyn
flipped through the blank pages
,
running
her
fingers over the thick black lines.
She
loved journals and owned quite a few
,
but
this was the only one her mother knew existed
.
Today
BrookLyn
felt like writing
her
first inscription
in this one
.
S
he
grabbed
her
favorite pen off
her
desk.
Her
first sentenced flowed with ease as
she
wrote, “
Oh
,
God, I love him
.”

Yes, Gabby would be
her
him
in
the
journal.
She
could never write down that
her
him
was actually a
her
.
She
would journal as if
she
were writing a short story
,
hoping that when
her parents
found it they would be misled.
She
’d do
her
best to hide it
,
but
her
mother usually found everything
—h
er
father worked every
day and
her
mother snooped.

BrookLyn
knew what she
would call
her
s
t
o
ry
—
Crossing the Other Side to Love Inside of a Rainbow.
She
felt like bright colors appeared when
she and
Gabby were together. They all showed up when
they
kissed.
Maybe it was just her teenage imagination, maybe just wishful thinking, but to
gether
they
created rainbows of love. Corny as it may be,
for BrookLyn
it was true.

She
wasn’t sure exactly what
she
felt
for Gabby,
but
she
thought
it
was love. Each word that
she
wrote about
“
Bryson
”
would really be about Gabby. As
she
declared
her
love with each stroke of
her
pen,
she
wrote,
“
I can’t
tell a soul
.”

She hoped that
as
she
wrote it down
she
would come out with a better understanding. In church
,
and in this crazy house,
she
was always taught that love was between a man and a woman.
BrookLyn
didn’t want God to punish
her
as
they
say He would.
Why would He make me feel this way about her if it wasn’t right
?
Her
mind was lost in a whirlwind.

BrookLyn
knew
her
heart was beating differently
now. She
wasn’t sure how far this road would take
her
,
or if
she
’d even want to stay on
it, but as she
sat on the edge of
her
bed writing down each amazing event that occurred during
her
weekend with
Gabby, she couldn’t help but smile through the pain.
With each scribble of the pen
,
her
truth became
her
fiction
, but a
s
BrookLyn’s
pen flowed,
her
mother broke into
her
peace
.

“Girl, it’s time for dinner
.
”

“I’m coming,”
she
yelled back
, even though she
wasn’t even hungry.
Who in the world calls their daughter,
girl
?
BrookLyn figured that if she
called her
mother
woman
it wouldn’t go over well.

She
hated
the thought of
having to go downstairs and be near them
, but r
egrettably,
she
closed
her
journal
,
rubbed
her
finger over the butterfly on the cover, kissed it softly and put it beneath
her
chemistry book in the bottom of
her
book bag
,
near her other journal
.
She
would have
them
with
her
during school hours.
Her m
o
ther
probably
snooped best when
BrookLyn
wasn’t home
, so
they
might be a little safer under
her
books than in
her
drawer
.

***

Amazingly
,
dinner went by as fast as it started.
Her
parents talked with each other as if
BrookLyn
wasn’t even
there.
She
sat in the kitchen and they were in the living room.
After she
ate
, she
washed the dishes.

“May I
go upstairs now
?”

“What’s upstairs
, huh?
”
her mother
asked.

“Don’t you want to spend time with your family?”
Her
father
smiled
mockingly.

They
were only family on paper
, why would s
he want to spend time with them?
“I have school tomorrow.”

“As long as you cleaned the kitchen, you can go
.
”
He
grab
bed
a cigarette out of his jacket
then
took out his silver lighter
. He
star
ed
at the blue flame
then
lit his cigarette
and
followed her into the kitchen to inspect her work.

BrookLyn
impatiently
survey
ed
her
fingernails
for a place to start
nibbling
.
She
just
wanted
to get away
.

W
hen
her mother
came into the kitchen
to
peek over his shoulder
, looking
like one of the mean girls at school
,
s
he
felt
nothing but disgust
.
BrookLyn
wanted to run down her
mother’s
neck and squeeze her insides.
She
hated her
that much
.

“BrookLyn
!
”
H
e yelled
even though he was
standing
right
next to
her
.

Bully.

“Yes
,
sir
.
”

He pointed at the floor
.
“You missed a spot
.
”
H
e left the kitchen
and
her mother
followed on his heels
like a dutiful wife—or a beat-down hound dog
.

There wasn’t any dirt on the floor
.
S
he
went through the motions of sweeping it again
, although
the broom
never touched
the floor.
She
wanted the safety of
her
room
—
to be out of his line of fire
.
She
could feel the tide brewing again. He’d be leaving for work soon, thank God.

She
finished and started toward the steps
as he was
gathering his things for work.
Seeing he was about to leave, h
er
heartbeat slowed
.
T
onight’s battle was over for now.
Still, she
wanted to
take
the stairs two at a time
,
but
instead
strode slowly
,
trying not to catch his attention. As
her
toes touched the top step
,
almost to safety, he called
her
name.