Later that evening, the two of them walked side by side down the narrow cracked sidewalk, the sun dipping low behind the crowded rooftops as orange light bled across the sky. The city felt tired, the air heavy with unspoken pain. My hand stayed gently on my sister's back, guiding her forward, shielding her as though my palm alone could protect her from the world. Her clothes were stained and worn, her face weary and hollow, yet she said nothing at all. Her silence felt heavier than any cry.
They arrived at our place we grew up. The house stood like a forgotten relic of suffering. The roof sagged slightly, burdened by years of neglect, and the paint had long since peeled away, exposing bare wood beneath. Inside, the dimly lit room smelled of smoke and sweat, the walls steeped in misery. Our father, a gruff man with a weathered face and cold eyes, sat hunched over the kitchen table. One hand counted out coins slowly while the other lifted cheap liquor to his lips, his movements dull and practiced.
"You're back late," he muttered without looking up. "Where's the money?"
"Dad," Harrison began cautiously, his voice tight and trembling, "we we didn't make quota today. But it wasn't her fault. A man was…"
"You didn't bring your daily share, and instead you're sticking your nose in someone else's damn business?" My dad rose sharply from his chair, his eyes narrowing with fury. His voice cracked like thunder across the small room, filling every corner with fear.
Harrison straightened, instinctively shielding his sister behind him. "I was just trying to protect her. A man was trying to rape my sister…"
The slap came fast and hard. A sharp sting bloomed across Harrison's cheek as his head snapped violently to the side.
He blinked back tears, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to steady himself. "I was…"
Another blow followed immediately. This time, Harrison stumbled back into the wall, the old wood creaking loudly behind him as the impact echoed through the house.
"Shut your mouth, boy. Do you think I did not know that's what she did to bring me money and to take care of us in this house since ur bitch of a mother cannot take care of you?" his father barked, towering over him with venom in his eyes.
"What you mean you knew?" I could not control my anger or my deep sorrow. "How can u call yourself a father and you send ur own daughter to be defiled over and over again for years how could you How dare you do that to my sister." I rushed forward to punch my dad, rage consuming my body, but suddenly my father struck first. I crashed into the wall as he kept punching me nonstop, breaking my teeth. I fought back, tearing his clothes and scratching at him, but all to no avail as he continued raining blows on me without mercy.
"Daddy stop beating him you'll kill him," Cecilia cried as she tried to intervene, but my father turned as if possessed. He grabbed her hair and yanked her outside. "Get out of here bitch like your mother. Don't come back here except u got money."
"I hate you James. If u were treated the same way u treat us how would u feel you bastard," I shouted at the top of my lungs. My father stopped punching me, as if my words had struck something deep inside him. He walked away, grabbed another bottle of alcohol, poured it over my wounds, then sat down.
The heat and pain I felt from my father pouring alcohol all over my body was like nothing I had ever felt before. It tore and burned my skin as I cried, not just from the pain, but from the realization that the father who was supposed to care for me was the one destroying me.
As for my mother, she could only watch from a distance, cowering in fear as she witnessed everything unfold.
Everyone in the house except me was not ready for the next thing my father James said. James drank another bottle of beer, and when he was sober, he sighed, drank a glass of water, then looked at me as my mom tried to treat my wounds. Watching us coldly, he spoke in a loud voice.
"LEAVE AND NEVER come back here," my father spat. He continued, "it wouldn't be a matter of time before Otis comes to make us pay for what you did to him and we all rotting in jail might be the least of my problems. I sold Cecilia to Otis for money."
My mother froze. "You did what?"
She left where she had stood and moved toward my father in fury. "You sold my daughter to Otis for money. What money if I may ask because last I checked u were getting paid in ur last job. On top of that these children brought money to us everyday so where did all the money go?" my mom demanded angrily as she grabbed his shirt.
"Let go of my shirt u bitch," James snapped as he slapped her hard, her scream cutting through the room.
"Why u son of a…" my mom snapped back, grabbing a nearby bottle and smashing it against his head in blind rage.
"Mommy Daddy stop. my brother Harrison is getting traumatized by your fights everyday in this house. I don't know why dad is like this but I believe he'll stop so please stop fighting," Cecilia cried desperately, trying to calm them.
"I'll only stop if this bastard tells me where the fuck he kept the money he's been collecting from u guys," my mom shouted angrily, still gripping his shirt, her face and body already covered in wounds. "Answer my damn question James."
"I BETTED WITH MOST OF THE MONEY Ok," James yelled in frustration, leaving the entire house in stunned silence except my sister as she clenched her fist angrily.
"I actually was saving it so we could move out the state but the money wasn't enough so I bet a little cash of it for a horse racing game but I didn't win so I BETTED again and again until I used more than half of it to bet and I'm gonna use more for betting and I don't give a damn what you all think," James said as every pair of eyes widened in shock.
"But that's not all u used it for is it?" Cecilia stepped forward, grabbing his shirt angrily as tears filled her eyes. "You used the money to spend on most bars in the town drinking and spending it on the ladies in the bar fucking and giving them extra tippings," Cecilia said with fury.
"How did u know?" James asked, his eyes widening.
"I saw u multiple times in the bar and clubs I worked. A piece of shit like u only cares about himself and not his family," Cecilia snapped as she slapped her father across the face.
"James is what she said tell me it's not true," my mother demanded firmly, gripping a broken bottle as she slowly approached him.
"Mom what are u doing," I asked weakly, my body battered as I stood in front of her with my arms stretched wide. "Please calm yourself don't do anything crazy."
"Answer my question James Macaulay," my mom said as she moved closer, blood dripping from her hand where she clutched the broken glass.
I couldn't take it anymore. Once again I ran out into the neighborhood, my thoughts spiraling. Why am I even doing this. James has been mistreating us since I ever remember. He never once took us out to special places or bought clothes or food for us. So why do I want to save him. I cried out to the heavens as rain poured heavily. I ran to a building and knocked at the gate. A middle aged man came out holding an umbrella and approached the gate.
"Knock knock," I said in a low tone.
"Who's that?" the person inside responded as a small metal viewing hatch opened.
"My name is Harrison and I am having a bit of issues in my home please could you please lend me a bit of your assistance."