Page 137 of Dissection of a Murder
A large splash signals her entry into the water. It’s a deep river. Cold. I place the phone in my coat pocket.
Rule #1.
Don’t Get Caught.
68
Delilah
Friday, May 13, 2005
“Boarding school?”Hefrowned. “What are you on about, DeeDee? Who do you think you are? The Queen of Sheba?”
My heart pounded. His reaction wasn’t surprising, which was why I came prepared.
“It’s not what you think,” I said, my mouth dry. “You wouldn’t have to pay anything. They do these fully funded scholarships, you see. For people like me.”
“People like you?”
“You know, disadvantaged…”
“Oh!” he said, in mock surprise. “Poor little Delilah. Always the victim. What’s wrong with your normal school?”
“I’m better than that. Better than this.”
It slipped out. I knew he’d see it as arrogance, but in that moment, I didn’t care. It was true. I’d had enough of hearing him say he couldn’t afford to buy food or clothes that actually fitted me because he had no money, only to blow what he did have on booze and fags. It was no way for a child to live.
“What? You want to go and live in a stately home and hang around with lords and princesses while I fester here alone?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “I do.”
His eyes burned into me, but I didn’t look away. He was sitting on the sofa drinking a can of lager. I stood above him; it was important in this moment to feel bigger.
“You’re not leaving here,” he said quietly.
“Why not?”
He thought about it for a moment, standing up to face me, hoping I’d back down. I didn’t.
“It’ll be full of lads, being all over you.”
“As opposed toyoubeing all over me, you mean?”
It shocked him, my saying it out loud. Of all the rules he taught me, that was the most important one, the one that remained unspoken forever.
For abuse to thrive in a dysfunctional and toxic family, it must never, ever be mentioned.
I made it real. The silence was broken. I couldn’t—and wouldn’t—take it back. If it resulted in a beating, I didn’t care.
He looked me up and down, trying to make me feel small and dirty and insignificant.
“You’re not going,” he snarled, ignoring what I said. He would make me pay for it later.
“It’s girls only.”
Glaring, he stepped away, reassessing me. He sensed I’d grown a backbone, and that was not allowed in our house.
“No,” he said casually.
