helping to carry the thick quilt that was trailing on the floor. When we get to
the front door, I see cop cars everywhere and I must make some sort of
strange whimpering sound out loud because the boys all freeze and back up,
trying to put me on the couch.
But being in the house that my father had been keeping me prisoner in
was even worse than facing all the commotion so as soon as we were
sitting, I rolled off the couch and crawled towards the daylight.
“Oh, Butterfly, I’ll carry you. Just hold on to me. We can talk to them
when you’re ready, okay?”
I nod and he carries me towards an ambulance that has some paramedics
waiting to check me out. Alex was glued to my side, his hand stuck tight on
mine as they checked my vitals and asked about injuries.
Aside from some malnourishment and dehydration there was nothing
much wrong, so they let me go after administering some IV fluids and
collecting promises to feed me. The boys had no problem with those orders
and were quick to pull me away from everything the second the fluid bag
was empty.
∞∞∞
It takes a few days of being somewhere safe before I start feeling close to
my normal self again, though showers don’t happen unless I’m fully
clothed. I can only change clothes in the pitch-black closet, and I shake the
entire time until my body is covered again.
Amy has been cooking comfort food left and right trying to tempt me, the
boys staying home from school to watch over me. Amy doesn’t even put up
a fight when all three of them insist on sleeping with me, none of them
feeling ready to let me out of their sight, even to sleep.
Waking up with their arms around me, hands touching me everywhere,
stops my panic attacks before they happen every single morning. It’s like
my body recognizes them instinctively. But it should, they’ve been my
whole world since I was five.
“What are you thinking about Amelia Poppy?”
“I just like waking up next to all of you. I missed you guys.”
Constantine buries me against his chest, breathing in my scent.
“Are you ready to talk about it yet?”
“I…don’t know that I ever can. After I had to go through it all again with
the police, I just don’t have it in me. And I don’t want you guys to have to
imagine everything, I don’t want you to see me differently.”
“If we looked at you different from your re-telling, it would only be
because we’re furious that you were mistreated. Thank God that fucker is in
prison because I’d be planning murder otherwise.”
“You guys can’t do anything to get yourselves in trouble, I need you too
much.”
“You’ve got us, Mils.” Cam’s warm breath behind me and Constantine’s
chest in front of me, Alex’s hand resting on my hip, the world slows down.
I feel something slip onto my wrist and look up at it, curiosity burning
through me. It was a gold band with “C+A+C+A 4 EVA” inscribed on it.
“Oh, God you guys are still dorks.” But I was crying again, because it
was perfect.
In the aftermath of my Father’s arrest, it was a flurry of police interviews
and my boys trying to shelter me. Eventually their mother made them go
back to school, allowing me to stay home with her and continue with the
online school I’d been doing until I felt ready to handle the mass of students
again.
Plus, we were waiting to hear from my social worker because
realistically I couldn’t live with Cameron’s family forever.
The day came where we were called in for a meeting, and my Aunt
Margaret was there with my awful cousin Sophie. Sophie has always hated
me because when we were little, my mother had put us in pageants together
and she was somehow still bitter that I always won them. Plus, some girls
just had the innate need to be a bitch.
I saw the way her eyes tracked my boys when I passed her to go into the
room my Aunt and social worker were in, luckily Amy was able to come as
well to help me stay calm.
“Okay, Ms. Knight. Since your father is incarcerated, we have contacted
your other family, and your Aunt Margaret has so graciously agreed to take
“I am more than happy to have her live with me, Ms. Tarney. It would be
no trouble at all. It would be awful to move her, mid-year, from her friends
and familiar places after all she’s been through. Honestly, she’s like a part
of my family anyway.”
Aunt Margaret scoffs and looks down her long, crooked nose at Amy.
“That would hardly be appropriate Mrs. Hughes. A teenage girl, living
with her boyfriend? I have heard all about her proclivities, and I have found
the perfect place for our young, impressionable girl. Amelia will be heading
to Texas for a boarding school that serves troubled souls.”
I want to puke. “Troubled souls? You do realize I’m the victim here,
right?”
“You will address me with respect, Amelia. As I said before, I know all
about your multiple boyfriends, and I’m sure you enjoyed your captivity.
This school will cleanse you of your sickness and restore your purity.”
I look at Amy with panic, knowing that if I get taken from those boys
again my soul will be more than just troubled. It will shatter and break me
completely. But I realize now that that’s exactly what my Aunt wants.
The case worker seems a little uncomfortable, but when Aunt Margaret
produces brochures from the school, proving it’s legitimate and not some
back water cult thing, she has no reason but to award custody to my Aunt
anyways.
I sprint out of the room, scared that if I stay in that room one minute
longer, I’ll scream and get checked into a mental ward instead from the
impending breakdown. Hadn’t I dealt with enough shit already?
I fly out of the doors, straight into the growing hulk that is Alex. Banding
my arms around his neck, wrapping my legs around him, I bury my face
into his neck and try to imprint the way his skin feels on mine.
“What’s wrong, why are you crying again?”
Sophie giggles and I don’t have to look up to know that Constantine is
glaring at her with those dark eyes that I love so much.
“Momma probably told her all about her new school. Are you excited,
Amelia? I heard no one comes out of there sane. Don’t worry, I’ll look after
your boys for you. Momma said we’re moving into your house.”
“What the fuck is she talking about, Mils?”
I start crying harder trying my best to fuse myself to Alex so no one can
take me away from him. From them.
Amy comes out of the room, chastising Sophie before I hear two sets of
footsteps walking away. Amy herds us down the hall, into the living room
right after the front door of her home closes.
Thank God Amy has the details and can tell the boys what’s happening
because I don’t think I would be able to use my words to tell them I can’t
stay with them. Surely it would smite me, to speak such blasphemous
words.
Alex grips me tig
hter when Amy is done, and the other two boys explode
into yelling, demanding for other solutions. I can hear how upset Amy is
when she explains that Aunt Margaret gets the final say, leaving us alone as
she goes to the kitchen to make dinner.
The other boys sink onto the couch on either side of Alex, and I move to
Constantine to begin the imprinting process on him as well.
“She can make you go away, Mils, but she can’t keep us out of your life.
You’re 18 in a couple years. There’s nothing in the world that could prevent
us from finding you again and being with you.”
I don’t have words to say right now, only emotions to feel and heartbreak
to share.
Cameron, age 17
“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you, I’m not going.”
Alex is all dressed up, a stupid tux on. How can he put effort into looking
good for another girl? Even if he insists they’re just friends, we owe more
loyalty to Mils than this.
“Get over yourself. I already told Sophie and her friends that we’d
accompany them to the dance, so if you stand them up you’re just going to
look like a jerk.”
“I don’t like Sophie or her friends, so that doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Alex looks all exasperated with me, like he expected me to just roll over
and offer myself up as a teenage sacrifice to formal dresses and high heels.
“Cameron, I’m trying here, okay? I get it, it sucks she’s gone still, but we
can’t just spend all our time at home moping. I’m sure she’s off doing fun
things at school, too, making new friends, having new experiences. What do
you think she’d say if she knew you were cutting yourself off from life?”
“You have no right to talk about her when you’re dressed like that for
someone else. You may have been too scared to admit you’re in love with
Amelia, but I’m not. She’s been my world since we were 13. The longest
you’ve ever dated someone is like two weeks.”
“She’s mine, too, Cam.”
“Is she?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I thought the idea was we all
get to be with her?”
I lean my head against the door, tired. Tired from not having her here,
tired from always fighting with Alex, tired from having to act like
everything is okay when it’s not.
“I can’t do this tonight, Alex. I’m sick of fighting with you. You want to
go to the dance with Sophie and her minions, be my guest. I can’t touch
anyone else.”
“That’s not what this is, Cam.”
“Then what is it?”
I finally see the real him break through, his eyes desperate as he reaches
out to grab onto me like he’s dying. I can see the way he’s been torturing
himself, replaying everything, imagining he could have changed something,
anything.
“I can’t sit still, Cameron. I swear to you, Sophie is just a friend. It’s sick,
but being around her is like having a small tie to Amelia, because they share
blood. I know they don’t get along and that Sophie can be…irritating, but
this is the only way I know to cope with the situation.
“Please, Cam. Don’t make me do this alone. If I stay home I’ll end up
doing something stupid and I can’t.”
And just like that, he’s won the argument. I’d never agree to go to
another dance for a girl if it wasn’t Amelia, but Alex is my brother and if he
really needs me, if this will help him stay in touch with reality, I can’t deny
him.
He low-key wipes a tear from his eye, like he thinks I’ll demote him if I
see him show how much our separation from Amelia is hurting him.
“It’s okay to hurt, Alex. We all are.”
“I thought we’d hear from her by now.”
We head upstairs and he waits on my bed while I dig through my closet
for the tux my mom insisted on buying. She said there was never an excuse
not have formal wear that fits. Looks like I’d need it after all.
“Sophie keeps talking about her like she’s gone-gone. Like she doesn’t
want to come back. Saying that she doesn’t want us.”
I freeze where I’m at, shirt half buttoned and peer around my closet door.
“Please tell me you’re not buying into her bullshit.”
“Is it bullshit?”
“Alex. Are you seriously saying you believe Amelia would willingly
leave us and not tell us why? That’s stupid. Have some faith.”
“Why hasn’t she spoken to us yet? Sometimes I feel like I can’t
remember the way her voice sounds. This town is like haunted, I can’t do
anything without thinking about the way she’d smile at us when we made a
stupid joke or the way she’d kiss one of you then glance at me to make sure
I wasn’t offended or embarrassed. Why didn’t I fucking kiss her when I
could?”
“You got there eventually. You weren’t ready.”
“What if-”
“Alex, you’ve got to stop the what-if game. Look, I’ve been reading up
on that school they put her in, it’s pretty extreme. They say they pride
themselves on immersing their students with protection and creating
fortitude. I googled pictures of it, read all kinds of accounts by students that
graduated from there…it’s not a nice place.
“They don’t allow their students any outside contact unless they’re on
break, and all mail is filtered and held or returned if they feel it’s not in their
students’ best interests.”
“So…you’re saying she hasn’t reached out to us yet because she can’t?
She’s been gone for a year.”
“I’m saying, have faith in our girl. We can’t make her come home sooner;
all we can do is wait for her.”
The dance is just as awful as I’d imagined it to be, and I know that if
Amelia was here, she’d be making fun of the crepe paper decorations and
disco balls. I was trying my best to stay away from my date, making up
excuses every time she looked like she wanted to ask me to dance, but so
far, I’d evaded her.
I couldn’t even remember her name, if I’m being honest. She was just
another face in the crowd, eager, with too much makeup and too-little dress.
She kept eyeing me like she wanted to eat me, and it was making me really
uncomfortable.
True to his word, Alex was trying to forget everything by going all in,
dancing but not doing the slow shit. Every time the beat started to slow,
we’d high tail it off the dance floor and crack up from behind some
decorations at the way the girls would stomp their feet and whine. Jerks?
Yeah. But it was still funny.
We were waiting behind the pushed-back bleachers that folded up into an
almost a wall with wood paneling in front of it, and sneaking sips of
whatever Alex poured into his flask. We had been hiding probably a little
too long because the girls showed up, clearly over the whole being-ditched
thing, and just started pulling us out. We were a bit drunk by now, so it
wasn’t too hard for them to do.
Before I know what’s up, I’m back on the dance floor and she’s (still
don’t know her name) got her hands around my neck, swaying back and
forth to some cheesy R&B ballad. Everything comes into focus all of a
sudden, and I panic. I hate Alex for taking me here, I hate myself for letting
another girl think she could touch me.
She tries to press herself against me, her sequins chafing my palms, her
lips tilted up, as if they want to be kissed. I push away from her, screaming
‘no’ over and over again and can’t stop wiping my hands against my legs,
like that will get rid of the way it felt to hold some other girl’s hips. I grab a
hold of Alex where he’s looking way too cozy with Sophie, ripping him
from her and we don’t stop moving until we’re back in the parking lot of
the high school.
“I’m never fucking doing that again.” I punch him, and that seems to
sober him up.
“Fuck.”
Yeah, those words pretty much sum it all up.
Amelia, age 18
I silently sing myself happy birthday as I braid my hair for the day. We’re
not allowed to have mirrors here, because they encourage vanity. Vanity is a
sin.
I can’t help but wonder what my boys are doing today. Did they go to our
tree? I pinch myself when I think about them as mine. My counselor told
me I should do this anytime I have impure thoughts of the boys.
At first, I was furious when they tried to tell me that loving three boys
was wicked. They didn’t know those boys like I did, didn’t see the way
their faces lit up when they saw me. Didn’t feel the lurching euphoria of
butterflies when one of them held my hand or kissed me.
But, after endless sessions of written lines, it has become ingrained in me
to think that perhaps I was a little wicked. Maybe father knew that, and
that’s why I was always punished.
I got to go home for the summer again, but like last year, Aunt Margaret
kept me locked in my room. A different one in the attic, only allowing me
outside for an hour or two at night where no one could see me. She didn’t
want neighbors to think she was supporting my wicked habits.
Without a phone or email I haven’t communicated with the boys since I
was forced to leave, but I scratched a message into our tree below the heart
that still shows. Just a simple ‘miss you’, but they’d know it was from me.
I could see from the dusty window the numerous times they’d tried
visiting me in the summer, and I cried every time Aunt Margaret turned