We’ll keep this little secret between us, he said, and he pushed the money into my jeans. Buy yourself something pretty, he said, and I slapped his hand away, wanting to scream but no one would hear; my mother was at work, always at work, even though she said his being here would make it easier. She quit one of her jobs. Now she only had two. That was his one contribution. She had two jobs and I had one. To grow up and get the hell out. You need me, he said, and I wanted to shout to the world how much I didn’t. I needed him like a dead dog needs a hot biscuit. I needed him like a swimming pool needs a shark. He was the shark in my life, those black button-doll eyes that reflected no love or empathy, only a flat, ugly need for power. The power he had over me but wouldn’t much longer. These last few weeks I stayed late after school, used the weight room with the boys, and at first they laughed and catcalled but then Elias from chem lab showed me how to stand. Now they spotted me, cheered me on. Every day my hate for that man burned hotter. Every day I felt myself getting stronger. Almost ready to tip a table, pull some Wonder Woman shit. Almost ready to step up. Someday I’ll be gone, and you’ll be sorry, he said, and I locked my door, knowing that like everything he said, only the first half was true.
Kathryn Kulpa is the author of A Map of Lost Places (Gold Line Press) and For Every Tower, A Princess (Porkbelly Press). Her work has been chosen for Best Microfiction and Best Small Fictions and is published in Boudin, Flash Frog, Ghost Parachute, Matchbook, and New Flash Fiction Review.
Great, Kathryn. The emotion! Niles Reddick
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