October 15, 1963

Bowman’s Residence

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She huddled in the closet, her hand clamped over her sister’s face with tight precision. “Shh, Marybeth. You have to keep quiet. If he hears us…”

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Marybeth shook her head rapidly, blowing out a tiny breath when her mouth could finally draw in air. “Why’s he doing this? We wasn’t even late to supper tonight. We wasn’t.”

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Clarissa shook her head at her sister’s insistence to talk again. She couldn’t keep clamping her hand over her mouth. The longer they hid in the closet, the more the terror ran through her. Each time a tiny tremor of fear slithered into her veins, she wanted to squeeze harder on her sister. She’d suffocate her before the night was over if she didn’t control her own panic. Marybeth was just a child—only five years old. She needed to put on a better brave front. She couldn’t let her fear overwhelm her.

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“Shh, Marybeth. We can’t worry about it now. You know how Papa gets when he’s drinking.”

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“But, Clarissa, he hasn’t been drinking tonight. I saw Momma pour the last bottle down the drain this morning.”

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Clarissa rolled her eyes at her mother’s stupidity. No wonder he was in such a terror. He needed his liquor to control his rage, which was rather ironic to her, because the liquor also fueled his rage. In plain words, her papa was just a mean man. “Stop talking. If we have to spend the night in the coat closet, then that’s what we’ll do.”

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Marybeth nodded, then whispered in a terrified voice, “Where’s Momma?”

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“Calming down Papa. Now stop talking before I shut your mouth again.” Clarissa squeezed her eyes closed as she tried inhaling a bit of strength. She shouldn’t take her fear out on Marybeth. But it remained difficult, especially with the day she had. Why couldn’t anything ever go right for her? Two more years. Two more years in this frightful house before she could hightail it out on her own.

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Then she felt Marybeth shiver in her arms, knowing, in that moment, it didn’t matter she only had two years left. She couldn’t leave Marybeth here alone with her parents. One drunk papa and a dumb mother to boot. It never used to be like this either. Nope. It all started when they moved into this house five months ago. Her papa lost his job, and then the drinking started. Funny thing, she didn’t blame it on him losing his job. She blamed the house.

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Suddenly, a high-pitched scream ripped throughout the house, zapping Clarissa straight to the bones. She wrapped her arms tighter around Marybeth as they shook together in horror.

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“What was that, Clarissa?” Marybeth whispered so softly Clarissa almost didn’t hear her.

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“I don’t know, Marybeth. Something not good. Just be quiet. And don’t make any more sounds.”

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Clarissa scooted farther into the closet, hitting the wall without moving two inches. She couldn’t scoot any farther if she tried. They had nowhere to go. Her papa rarely raised his hands to them, only starting that in the last few weeks. His rage mostly entailed rapid hollering and spit flying. She could only assume that screaming was her mother, enduring a beating she never endured before. This wasn’t right. She couldn’t let her papa act like this anymore. If her mother wouldn’t do the right thing, then Clarissa would do it for her.

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Shuffling her hand silently around the closet, she felt the baseball bat she knew would be in the corner not far from where they sat curled into a ball of panic. She gripped the handle of the bat with an intense fury and blew out a breath. “Stay here, Marybeth. No matter what.”

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She pushed her sister into the corner and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t make a sound either. Just stay here.”

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She started to reach for the handle when Marybeth whispered, “Don’t leave me, Clarissa.”

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“I’ll be right back. I have to check on Momma. Just be quiet.” Clarissa twisted the knob and slowly opened the door, carefully going inch by inch to avoid the loud creaking sound the door liked to make. She flinched when a small screech perforated the air. But to her horror, another loud scream belted throughout the house. With no concern for herself anymore, she dashed out of the closet, closing the door with quiet ease, and made her way to the foot of the stairs. Taking them two at a time, the bat dangling from her hands, she rushed to the bedroom where she thought the scream came from. Gripping the bat harder, she walked inside, ready to defend her mother.

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***

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Marybeth crouched into a small ball, wrapping her arms around her knees as she waited for Clarissa to return. She tried really hard to keep her small cries inside, but she couldn’t help it. The minute Clarissa left, another loud scream rang out. She couldn’t hold the tears in any longer. She’d never been so scared in her life. She was afraid she would wet her pants. And she hadn’t done that for a whole year, and the pride every time she woke up with a clean, dry bed made her feel like a really big girl. She needed to be a big girl now.

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She screamed slightly when she heard a loud thud and another scream echo throughout the house. She tried to scoot farther back, almost as if she could melt into the wall, but her back hit resistance. She clamped her own hand over her mouth when she heard heavy footsteps descend the stairs. Her tiny cries muffled through her fingers, the sound impossible to stop.

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A tiny shriek left her mouth when the closet door whipped open. Her papa stood with a smile on his face and his eyes…his eyes glossed over in a madness she’d never seen before.

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He held his hand out to her. “Follow me, sweet darling.”