"My dad abused me."

Those words were what brought me hear, sitting in the middle of the living room, with Rachel across from me. She would not tear her eyes away from me, worried and concerned. I tried to look everywhere but her eyes and eventually settled on my hands.

Everyone else were out doing their chores, oblivious to think where we were and what we were doing.

Rachel sighed, "Jordan-"

"Can we please not talk here?" I asked, my voice sounding broken.

She just nodded, gesturing for me to follow her. We returned to the car I had previously been in only five minutes ago. I climbed into the passenger seat as she climbed into the drivers. She started it up, not speaking at all, and the radio turned on. It was low, giving an atmosphere that was undesirable yet comforting.

She only drove a mere twenty minutes, passing the city in goodbye until we turned onto an unmarked road and soon came to park in the middle of a field. I listened as she put the stick shift into park and pulled the key from the ignition.

"You don't have to explain it all, but I want to help," Rachel began, obviously being careful over choosing her words.

I only took a deep breath, sighed and decided to start from the beginning, "I was only five years old when it started. At least, that is as far back as I remember. I had been held back after our kindergarten class was dismissed because the teacher wanted to talk to me and congratulate me on my drawing we had done in class that day. Afterwards, I made my way to the parent pick-up, finding my dad and following him to his car. Once inside, I was excited to tell him about my drawing and show him, but I didn't get the chance."

My voice faltered, feeling the tears start to prick at my eyes, but I held them back against their will. I took another breath, this one shakier than the first, "He told me that I made him late for a football game. A damn football game. He slapped me, telling me to never be late again. He scared me too much to even try and explain, or even show him my drawing. I only clamped my mouth shut as he told me not to tell my mom. So, from that day, I wasn't late again. I would get hit a bunch more time later, but it was as punishment for doing something wrong. I would be spanked, and I only figured that was normal because I had seen a few of my friends get spanked as well. But in first grade, I had accidentally peed my pants while out on the playground. My mom was out of town, so my dad had to bring me a change of clothes. I was cautious while taking them from him, careful not to get hit again. He remained calm, though, when I got home, it was another story. He slapped me again, sending me slamming into the tile floor. I remember holding my cheek, looking up to see this monster above me, and running away to my room. I never told my mom about it, at all. So, the years carried on, numerous beatings ensuing and countless lies told to my mom of my just being extremely clumsy. But in the fifth grade, it was the worst it had ever been. I was swimming outside with my friend in out backyard pool."

I stopped short, trying to catch each breath that were now running ragged through my lungs. I could feel my tears starting to spill, and I hated being this vulnerable, but still I continued.

"My friend went inside to use the bathroom, and I was just aimlessly floating in the pool by the edge when I felt something shove me under the water. I was stupid to try and breath, catching water in my lungs and being unable to breath. I was finally released, bobbing up to the surface to see the familiar monster above me. He looked angry, horrid with rage, and he only screamed at me. What was it over? I hadn't cleaned my room. He tried to drown me because I hadn't cleaned my room. He pushed me under once again and I fought him, reaching the surface numerous times, screaming for him to stop and for someone to help. But no one came. My friend never returned because her mom came to the door to take her home early. My mom was out and we didn't live in a packed neighborhood. Not soon enough, he stopped; storming away, back into the house and leaving me to climb out. Once I was out, however, I was left to choke out the water trapped in my lungs. I guess I never fully got it all out because by the next day, I was in the hospital, diagnosed with pneumonia. I nearly died to. My dad told everyone I choked while drinking some soda too fast.

"So, I nearly died because of my own father. After that, nothing ceased or weakened. He was still as abusive as always, and because of him, I developed a fear of water. It was more of a terror actually. About a year and a half ago, the truth all came out. I finally got up enough courage to tell the police after a violent beating my dad had done to me the night before. I went to school with a concussion, unknown at the time, and countless bruises, scratches, and wounds. I had made it to school, but on my way to first period, my head was spinning so much and I was in so much pain, I passed out. Kids apparently freaked, teachers raced to my aid, and an ambulance was called. I woke up in a hospital, my mom on one side of my bed and two officers on the other. It all went on with me confessing, my mom crying, my dad being arrested and things turning into utter chaos. 6 months later, the court hearing ensued, and my father was found guilty. I had countless nightmares before and after that, but thankfully my best friend TJ was there. He held me while I cried, stayed with my every night, wether we were at his house or mine, and made me feel safe."

Rachel finally spoke, "TJ? Isn't she the one in the hospital?"

"Um, no. I am so sorry, but I lied about that, because I needed him if I woke up from a nightmare. After the court case, a few months later, I stopped having the nightmares. But almost a week ago, they started again. I don't know why, but they did. And I didn't want to clean the pool because of my fear of water."

When I finished, I looked over to her, seeing she was looking back with glassy eyes and wet cheeks. She didn't speak, just grabbed me and squashed me in a hug.

It scared me really, because I wasn't used to others hugging me out of affection, Sure, TJ and I hug a lot, but not out of sympathy.

"Can we," I coughed, waiting for her to let go, and she did, "Can we, um, not tell anyone else, please? I have never really told anyone else..."

She was nodding rapidly, shaking her head at the same time, "Yes, no, of course. It is your story to keep and tell. But thank you for sharing with me."

I didn't respond, just gave her a small smile and a shrug of my shoulders.

"If you ever need to talk, I'm here," she said, "I hope you know that."

I nodded, looking down at my hands, "Thanks."

"Anytime," she said gently, "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

"Thank you, really," I smiled, and it was genuine. I looked up at her, with her makeup running down her cheeks, but she wasn't crying anymore.

"You know, um, I was wondering," I started, but quickly abandoned the idea, "Nevermind."

"What?" she asked.

"Just something, but I don't want it to sound mean," I said, glancing down.

"What is it sweetie?" she asked again.

"I was just wondering, if maybe," I said, trying not to sound offensive, "I could do your makeup? It's just, I think you wear so much, it keeps from your beauty, if that makes sense."

I looked back up and she was smiling, like full on grin.

"Of course," she nodded, "I've actually been meaning to change my makeup style, but I just haven't had an idea on what to do."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yep," she said, "If we go back and finish the chores, I'll let you come with me and we can go to the store. You can pick out the makeup you need and you can do whatever you want."

"Aw, you don't have to," I said, but she cut me off.

"Really sweetie, I would love it if you did," she said.

"Yay," I couldn't help but grin as well, "I actually want to do makeup and hair when I grow up."

"Well, with the way you do your own, I would be honored for you to do mine," she said.

"Thanks, I think," I giggled slightly.

"No problem hun," she said, "Now, do you want to head back?"

I took a deep breathe and nodded.

She only turned, the smile never leaving her face, and started the car.

Cody

I looked at my chore list.

Clean gutters.

Water plants and pick weeds.

Disgusting, I thought.

"I'll go grab the ladder," Mark said, heading off to who knows where before I could even protest.

Now way in hell am I cleaning some nasty gutters.

He made it back with a ladder in hand and was leaning it up against the side of the house.

"Ready?" Mark asked, turning toward me.

"No," I said, sticking my hands in my pockets.

"You have to do your chore Cody," he said, sticking his hand on his hip.

"I'm not going to clean some nasty gutters," I said, shaking my head.

"It's either you do this now, or you do it later and also get to add another chore to your list," he said, surprisingly patient.

"Well, I am not going to do it, so," I said, keeping my ground.

"Then you'll clean the gutters, water plants, and rake every leaf on the front and back yards," he said, his facial expression firm and his tone annoyed.

"And if I still don't?" I said, knowing it would test his patience.

"You can work a double shift at the restaurant tomorrow on top of that," he replied.

I stood there, pondering this for a minute. Might as well get this over with. I trudged over, Mark handing me a bucket and pair of gloves. I made my way up the ladder as Mark held it below.

I looked into the gutter and saw leaves, dirt and mold mixed together in one long pile of muck. I crinkled my nose in disgust as I slipped my gloved hand into it, picking it up and slinging it into the bucket, which I had hung of the ladder. I went on to do this, until I had to go down and move the ladder, as I could no longer reach.

After about an hour, I was nearly done when I heard a car door slam. I was in the front so I looked over to see Rachel and Jordan getting out of the car, walking up to Mark. Jordan kept her distance as Rachel exchanged a few words with Mark.

I tried to catch Jordan's eyes but she only avoided mine. I sighed, finishing up with the gutters. Once I was finished, Mark called me down, and I took the bucket with me.

At the bottom, I noticed Rachel's makeup was smeared in the corners of her eyes as if she had cried and wiped away at them.

"Do you mind if you trade off your last two chores with Jordan?" Rachel asked.

I just nodded, saying, "Okay."

"Thank you," she replied, giving Mark a quick peck on the cheek and leading Jordan around the house.

I noticed, before she was gone, that Jordan had looked as if she were crying as well.

Why would she be crying?