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It started with the vase smashing against a wall outside Sasha’s bedroom.
Marcy jumped, Sasha hardly flinched. She kept her head down, focused on her desk of cards, hiding her face behind her hair. Still, Marcy saw tears begin to pool in Sasha’s eyes.
“What was that?” Marcy whispered. They were laying on the floor playing cards, the lamp on the side of Sasha’s bed being the only light in the room.
Sasha didn’t answer her for a few more seconds. “We can go outside, if you want? Get away from the noise,” she whispered, looking out the window where the sun was setting slowly.
“Okay, I guess.” Marcy nodded. Sasha climbed to her feet and walked over to her bedroom door. She opened it silently and peeked out into the hallway.
“Coast is clear,” she whispered. It was warm outside, and they walked out the back door just in their pajama shorts and thin sleepshirts, Marcy’s short sleeved and Sasha’s long sleeved. They were both barefooted. Sasha led Marcy through a maze of broken glass on the deck, stepping carefully around it.
They sat outside on Sasha’s rusty old swing set, neither girl saying a word. It reminded Marcy of the one at the park around the corner where they had met so many years ago. Marcy could faintly hear shouts coming from inside. Sasha ran her toes along the soft dirt under the swings, off in her own world.
“Are you okay, Sasha?” Marcy asked. She really didn’t know what to do for her friend, so she just rested her hand gently on Sasha’s shoulder.
Sasha wiped at her eyes. She nodded solemnly.
“Y-yeah. I’m good. Everything’s fine,” Sasha’s voice quivered. Marcy could hear the uncertainty in her words.
Marcy was silent for a little bit longer. She knew what was happening inside, she had seen it in movies and read about it in books. For a minute, she could let real life slip away and imagine that Sasha was one of those tragic characters she read about, one who had come from a childhood of abuse and came out on top.
But this wasn’t a book, or a movie, or a video game. This was real. Sasha was real, and this was her life.
It broke her young heart to see Sasha living like that.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” Marcy wrapped an arm completely around Sasha, pulling her closer making the swing she was sitting on creek as she moved.
“You wouldn’t get it,” Sasha mumbled into Marcy’s shoulder. She buried her face into the crook of Marcy’s neck, a single tear falling down her face. Blonde hair obscured her pale face.
Sasha wanted help, she really did, but she had no idea how to ask for it. Even Marcy, her best friend, wouldn’t understand it. She just wouldn’t understand Sasha’s pain.
So she just cried into Marcy’s shirtsleeve. It was the only thing she could do.
“If I don’t get it, why don’t you try to explain, please?” Marcy’s voice was gentle and soothing. She rubbed Sasha’s back and let her cry, it was the best thing she knew how to do. She wasn’t good with people; she couldn’t make eye contact with half the people she knew.
“You don’t watch your parents fight because of you. You’ve never hidden herself under the covers late at night and cried silently because you would be in trouble if someone heard you. You’ve never been drugged because you were too annoying. You've never watched your father rip apart your comfort objects in front of you because you had a meltdown.” Sasha’s words rolled off her tongue at a million miles a minute. She broke down into sobs.
Sasha shook her head, still hiding her face in Marcy’s shoulder. Marcy held her, processing.
“When did it start?” Marcy asked quietly. She reached down with her free hand and pulled Sasha’s shaking one into her lap. She intertwined their fingers, trying to provide her with a little comfort.
“It’s been as l-long as I can remember.” Sasha turned her face so she was looking out at the yard, but still rested her head on Marcy’s shoulder.
Marcy swayed back and forth on the swing, thinking about her next question. Sasha stood up, beckoning Marcy to follow. She led them over to the side of the house, where there was an ancient looking porch swing, just barely big enough for two small middle school girls.
“It’s not the best but it’s better.” Sasha whispered, trying to keep herself from crying more. Marcy wondered if there were memories tied to this swing that hurt to remember.
They sat down and Sasha curled up in her spot, leaning over and laying her head in Marcy’s lap. Marcy slowly stroked her hair and moved her bangs out of her eyes. The tears were already obscuring her vision enough.
“Do they ever... hit you?” Marcy asked with hesitation. Sasha tensed for a moment before she relaxed again.
She didn’t say anything, but instead rolled up the long sleeves on the thin sleepshirt she was wearing. There were dark bruises in the shape of fingers, adult fingers, like she had been grabbed.
“Oh, Sasha…” Marcy tried not to sound like she was pitying her, but she just felt so bad for her best friend.
“It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve been worse. And it’s only sometimes.” Sasha shifted her head in Marcy’s lap.
Marcy gently ran her fingertips along the bruises. Sasha whimpered and pulled away.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Marcy gave her a hug, avoiding her harsh markings. She winced in pain again. “Sasha? What else did they do to you?” Marcy was scared, Sasha’s eyes were filled with so much pain, usually a confident and lively brown now glazed over with tears. She took a deep, shaking breath. Suddenly, everything she was still managing to hold together fell.
“They- last night- daddy hi-hit me with-with his bel-belt. A-across my-my ba-back,” Sasha now didn’t even care, she let the tears fall down her face and hugged Marcy tightly. She dropped her head to Marcy’s chest.
“Tell me everything, it’s okay to cry.” Marcy hugged her back, trying to be as comforting as she could.
“They scream, an-and f-fight. And-and momma dr-drinks while da-daddy has other gi-girls o-over and th-then they-they star-start hit-hitting me when they’ve ha-had enough of each oth-other,” Sasha sobbed. Marcy was pretty sure the neighbors could hear her. She was in hysterics.
Marcy didn’t know what to say. She just held Sasha tightly and let her cry it out.
“Well- Sasha, listen to me.” Marcy said once Sasha’s sobs had reduced to soft sniffles.
“I’m not going to let them hurt you, not anymore. You’re safe with me. You can come stay with me anytime, I’ll always be here for you. I promise.” Marcy pulled Sasha up so she was sitting in her lap. She was light as a feather, despite being almost thirteen. She hugged her, holding her close and not letting her go until Sasha’s tears had stopped completely.
“You promise? You care ?” Sasha asked, her voice trembling. Marcy nodded.
“Of course I care, Sasha. And I know Anne does too. You can go to either of us. I promise. You’re safe with me. Always.” Marcy held Sasha’s hand in hers tightly, reassuring her that she would always be okay as long as they had each other. She wiped at Sasha’s tears, drying her face against the cold of the night. In the moonlight, Sasha’s tears looked silver. Glittering and lighting up her face through the pain.
Marcy looked up at the stars, just starting to peek out through the clouds. She held Sasha, the blonde tucking her head under Marcy’s chin.
In that moment, everything faded away. It was just Sasha and Marcy, ready to take on the world.
As long as they did it together.