Unspoken - Kiss of the Wolf Spider, Part I by Sharianne Bailey

Anthony
opened the door.
     “Jane is grounded. Jane
is grounded!” he chanted in brotherly one-upmanship. “Jane you should stop
being so cheeky to them and you wouldn’t get grounded so often.”
    “You weren’t even here so
you don’t know what really happened!”I argued.
    “They told me you were
cheeky… a nd you failed your last maths test. So now you have to do
homework too. Well I’m going with Robert to a movie. Ta-ta.” He pulled a
tongue.
      I hurled some sort of
childish abuse back at him and threw my shoes, hitting the door as he closed
it.  I was never allowed to go out overnight but he could spend whole weekends with friends!
    If only Mom could be here
to hold me and say it will be okay. Perhaps if Mom was here none of this would
have happened! If Mom had been here … if Mom had done her job … if Mom had
protected me…
    As I started to think
about Mom, a sudden fury exploded from deep within me. It grew hotter and
intensified to a terrifying, inexpressible crescendo. Where was she? Why wasn’t
she here? Why didn’t she care?
    In that moment I hated
everything and everyone in the world more than I’d ever hated before. I
clenched my hands and dug my nails into my palms – then I grabbed my hair and began
to pull. That wasn’t enough to satisfy this storm. I looked around.
    Scissors!
    I pounced on the pair of
nail scissors that were lying on my bedside table and plunged them repeatedly
into the wood, screaming soft and low, deep in my throat. Suddenly I stopped stabbing
the wood and pulled them across the back of my hand, ripping the skin.
    Terrified at my own rage,
I stared at my hand. Fear transformed to fascination as the pink scratch became
a broad red line. I did it again, making a second line like a pair of train
tracks.  Blood oozed more quickly to the surface. I was alive and I could feel
myself.
    After a while, I needed to
experience that rush again. I did it to the other hand. Systematically. Slowly.
I wanted to feel. I needed to feel! The blood began to pool on the back
of each hand – rich, red, vibrant. I watched it run down the sides of my hands
and trickle round onto my palms; I rubbed it as if it was hand cream. I watched
in the mirror as I wiped my hands across my face. “I look like a murderer,” I
thought, “and I’ve just killed my family.” The immense power in that moment of
drama was short-lived, for as the initial excitement died down, my hands began
to sting and I became afraid of Joanne finding me like this.
    To my relief, I heard
Dad’s car drive off and a few minutes later, Joanne’s car followed. I dashed
down the passage to the bathroom. I needed to wash off all the blood or my
clothes would soon be stained from the dripping and Joanne would just start
yelling again. In fact, now would be a good time to bath, I decided.  If Dad
was out, that meant he couldn’t come and stand at the window, watching me and
telling me to open my legs in the bath so he could see.
    After my cleansing ritual,
I patched up my hands with a few too many Band-Aids, fixed myself a piece of
toast and tea and went back to my bed.

Chapter 11
     
     
    “Even if I were innocent,
    my mouth would condemn me;
    if I were blameless, it would pronounce me guilty,
    Although I am blameless
    I have no concern for myself;
    I despise my life.”
    Job 9:20-21
     
    I slept fitfully and
awoke, distraught.
     I tiptoed down the
passage to make a cup of tea but Dad must have heard me for there he was,
hovering around.  “Jane, I want you to take these pills. Then go and have a
really cold bath. You must come to me every day to get them and have a long, cold
bath straight afterwards. It will get your periods going again.  I want to know
when your period starts. I’m not taking you back to school till then.”
    My heart just about
stopped. Not going back to school! Oh no! “But why? I want to go back to school
and I don’t want a cold bath!”
    “Just do it!” He raised an
arm to strike.