found a way to gain some of the power back. I let him off the hook by keeping the secret.
I can’t let him keep that power.
Sam explains to Rose that she needs to report this to Child Protective Services. “I don’t know what CPS will do given that Sara is out of the home, but lives across the street.”
“We’ll move if we have to,” Rose says, her mind already made up.
“No,” I say.
Rose turns to me with her mouth agape.
“He has to pay. I won’t let him dictate my life again and punish me for what he did.”
“What do you mean?” Sam questions.
“I was always punished for what he, Mother, and Victoria did. Bruises, cuts, broken bones. I had to clean up the messes they made. Now this. No. Not anymore.”
Sam gives me a reassuring pat on my shoulder. “I will call in the report as soon as you leave. Now, you need to tell Andrew and decide if Arissa should know. An investigator should be calling within twenty-four hours of my report.”
Rose and I leave in silence.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, newly formed tears falling as she starts the car.
“I tried so hard to keep it a secret, Rose,” I respond, tears of my own surfacing again.
“You could have told us.” She wipes away her tears and drives us out of the parking lot.
“I thought you would hate me,” I admit.
“I could never hate you, Sara. I love you as much as I love Arissa. Nothing you do or say will change that. This whole mess is not your fault. You are the victim. Anyone who would treat you as if you were to blame lacks compassion and empathy.”
“I feel like it was my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t do anything to stop him until he tried to rape me after my first date with Jason.”
“Sara, he was abusing you before you knew how to defend yourself or that you should. Parents are supposed to protect their children, not use them as their personal maids and whipping girls.”
Andrew arrives home from work while Arissa is out with Damian and we’re able to talk without worrying about eavesdropping.
“I don’t want her to know yet.” I decide. “Maybe if it goes to court, but not now.”
“We’ll respect your wishes,” Andrew assures me.
“And Jason.” I add.
“Are you sure about that, sweetie?” Rose asks. “It might be a good idea if you tell him.”
“I don’t want him to know.” Final answer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A sheriff’s car and a white Honda Civic are parked in front of the house after school. We rush through the door, worried about Rose. She sits in the living room with a uniformed female sheriff’s deputy and a brown-skinned young woman with thick black hair pulled into a ponytail. Ponytail’s orange shirt and blue jeans cling to her curves. A large black leather notebook rests on her lap. Rose’s face is taut while Ponytail smiles.
I know this isn’t good, despite her smile.
“Arissa, go up to your room, please,” Rose says.
“Mo-”
She adds more sternness to her voice. “I am not asking. Go to you room.” She gazes at me with sorrow in her eyes, patting the sofa next to her.
This must be CPS. With a deputy, though?
Arissa squeezes my arm, then runs up the stairs. I drop my backpack next to the stairs and sit next to Rose. She slides an arm around my shoulder and I notice the worn tissue in her other hand. My knee bounces up and down and I wring my hands together between my legs. Rose runs her hand along my arm and my knee stops.
Non-verbal cues work wonders sometimes.
“Sara,” Ponytail says, ”I’m Gillian Barrow. I work for CPS.”
“Hi.”
“I have some questions for you about your family,” she says, opening her binder and clicking the end of a pen.
I glance at the deputy. Her affect is flat and her brown hair is a styled pixie cut. She sits up straight on the opposite sofa with Gillian.
Gillian catches my gaze. “Deputy Cohen is here for my protection since your family lives across the street.”
I nod and dig my thumbnail into the palm of my other hand.
Gillian starts with questions about the physical abuse, then leads into questions about my mother and sister. I manage the questions with almost no anxiety because I’ve told it all before. She then asks me to recount as many incidents of my father “sexually abusing” me as I can.
No one wants to use the word rape. It’s an ugly word full of bitter