Chapter 4: Finding Safe Harbor

Ignoring my retreat, she dragged me to the porch, locked me in, and told me to reflect on what I’d done. Her voice buzzed, I couldn’t hear clearly. I had two big lumps on my head, and my left ear felt like a needle was stabbing it, burning with pain. It hurt so much, I couldn’t breathe. My body was burning, my head felt especially heavy.

The porch was stifling, the air thick with humidity. I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching the world blur and spin. My ear throbbed, each pulse a fresh wave of agony. I couldn’t breathe.

When I regained consciousness, it was Hailey kicking me, threatening in a low, vicious voice: "Quinn Delaney, you dare tell my mom about me! I’m telling you, you’re finished!" She curled her lips, then shouted to my mom, "Auntie, Quinn said your cooking is as disgusting as you are, she doesn’t want to eat."

Her foot connected with my ribs, sharp and mean. I barely registered the pain, too weak to fight back. Hailey’s voice was smug, triumphant. I didn’t fight back.

"Then don’t eat for the rest of your life! Hailey, ignore her, come out and eat," my mom yelled outside.

The words were muffled by the door, but the anger in her voice was clear. I curled up tighter, wishing I could disappear. I wished I could disappear.

"Quinn, just wait to die!" Hailey smiled smugly at me, kicked me again, and locked the porch door.

Her laughter echoed down the hallway as she left. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me.

I was groggy and too weak to argue, and fainted again.

When I woke again, it was night. I was so thirsty, fever had made me sweat a lot, and my throat felt like it was on fire, dry and sore. The desire to survive made me give in and beg. I knocked on the door, begging my mom to let me out.

My knuckles rapped weakly against the wood. The house was quiet, shadows stretching across the floor. I could hear the distant hum of traffic outside, the world moving on without me. No one heard me.

In the still night, my mother was woken up, and, full of anger, she hit the porch door with the broom.

The thud of the broom against the door made me flinch. Her voice was sharp, slicing through the silence.

"What are you yelling for, up in the middle of the night, trying to make a fool of me!"

Her words stung, but I forced myself to speak, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Mom, I know I was wrong, please let me out."

I let go of my resentment, weakly begging her, but my mother’s face only grew more twisted. "Now you know you were wrong? Now you beg? Quinn Delaney, I’m telling you, it’s too late. Don’t even think about coming out for two days!" As she spoke, she raised the broom to threaten me again: "Quinn Delaney, you owe Hailey, you should be a slave to her your whole life, you have no right to resist! This is your fate! And don’t embarrass me at night. If you dare shout again, I’ll beat you to death!"

Her words settled over me like a shroud. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching her retreat down the hallway, her shoulders hunched in anger. She didn’t look back.

I looked desperately through the square window in the peeling wooden door, watching her mercilessly return to her room. She really was Hailey’s mother, not mine; she didn’t love me at all.

The world outside the glass seemed impossibly far away. I pressed my palms to the cool wood, feeling utterly alone. The ache in my chest was worse than any bruise.

I froze for a few seconds, then jumped from the third-floor porch.

The wind whipped past my face as I fell, the world spinning in slow motion. I aimed for the thick holly bush below, praying it would break my fall. I closed my eyes.

I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I jumped because I saw there was a thick holly bush below. I didn’t die, only got scratched by the branches, but that pain was nothing compared to being beaten with a broom.

The branches tore at my skin, leaving angry red welts. But I was alive, breathing, and for a moment, I felt almost free.

My mother heard the noise and rushed down to hit me immediately.

Her footsteps thundered down the stairs, her face twisted with rage. She didn’t ask if I was hurt, didn’t care that I was bleeding. She just dragged me out of the bushes, her grip bruising.

"Are you crazy? Do you know how much a new window costs? I must’ve owed you in my past life, you won’t stop until you torment me to death!"

Her voice was shrill, each word a fresh wound. I tried to pull away, but I was too weak. My cries for help barely rose above a whisper. No one heard me.

She dragged me out of the bushes. I was burning with fever, too weak to push her away, and my cries for help were so quiet I didn’t know if anyone heard—just that I was so, so tired.

The world blurred at the edges. I wanted to sleep, to escape the pain, but her voice kept dragging me back.

But her loud voice made windows open, and many neighbors woke up and looked out. Someone called the police.

I heard the clatter of blinds, the low murmur of voices. For once, the world was watching. I felt a flicker of hope.

The police arrived quickly and, seeing my injuries, asked what happened. My mother blocked me. "Officer, she’s just a kid, can’t speak clearly. Ask me anything you want to know."

She tried to shield me with her body, her voice suddenly sweet and pleading. But the officers weren’t fooled.

"We’re asking her, please step aside and let her answer."

The policewoman knelt beside me, her eyes kind. I clung to her presence, desperate for someone to believe me. I wanted to believe her.

"Ma’am, this girl seems sick?"

Her hand was gentle on my forehead, cool and comforting. I wanted to cry.

"She’s not sick, she’s as strong as an ox, helps me with work every day!"

My mother’s words sounded hollow, desperate. The officers exchanged glances, their faces grim.

But the police ignored my mother. A policewoman touched my forehead. "Ma’am, she’s burning up, could fry an egg!"

The policewoman’s voice was sharp, concerned. I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me.

I was dizzy but firmly pointed at my mother and told the police, "She wants to kill me, she forced me to jump, all my injuries are from her and Hailey upstairs!"

My voice was hoarse, but I forced the words out. The officers’ eyes widened, and I saw a flicker of anger in their faces.

The police took it seriously, sent me to the hospital, and brought Hailey, still sleeping, and my mother to the station.

The ambulance ride was a blur of flashing lights and hushed voices. At the hospital, nurses moved quickly, their hands gentle as they checked my injuries. For the first time in my life, I felt safe.

Medical report: left eardrum perforation with pus, concussion.