“I’m so sorry,” Claire whispered, and my lip trembled while I debated on how much to tell these strangers I knew nothing about. What if they were pretending so they could use my words against me later? No. That’s wrong. They’re sincere, I feel it in my soul.
“I-I, do you want the entire story?” I asked in a whisper before flinching and glancing at Mr. Thatch, who has a sorrowful frown twisting his lips.
“Yes, Angel, we do,” he replied. “Some cretin has ruined you singing today, but we can salvage the day by learning more about the soul behind your heavenly voice.” My cheeks heated, and I bit my lip while shame filled me for ruining everyone’s day. Here they were, ready to sing, and my presence forced them to abstain.
“I can still sing,” I protested. Even though my nose and eye injuries happened mere minutes ago, my mind had dismissed them. My ribs ached worse than either my eye or nose. Although they were almost healed.
“You can sing tomorrow,” Mr. Thatch corrected. “For today, we will learn more about our diamond in the rough.” My cheeks must have radiated heat with how hot they burned, and I hunched my shoulders to become smaller. Clucking his tongue, he added, “or we can sing after your story if you stop dragging your feet.” He smiled when I glanced at him, and I sighed before nodding my acceptance. So, there was no way out of it. Well, that made my decision easier, at least. Hopefully, I wouldn’t bore anyone to tears. Albeit, I hoped no one laughed or scoffed. I did not know how I would react, but my heart would ache. “From the beginning, Angel,” the choir director clarified before I could consider shirking any details.
“Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much,” I drawled sarcastically, and everyone in the choir room burst into laughter. My cheeks that just cooled heated again. However, I admitted I was delighted to have prompted their laughter instead of being the recipient. “My father was the high school hotshot. He had a promising career as a quarterback ahead of him, and he was beautiful too. He had blonde hair that curled at the ends and gorgeous light blue eyes. Matty is his carbon copy, down to the dimples, although he isn’t interested in sports. But, um, in college, dad met mom, who was a shy bookworm. She tutored him so he could keep playing, and everything was great until he went to a party, got drunk, and ended up hurt. I guess he and his teammates were horsing around and, well, the wrong injury ends a career,” I murmured thickly.
“It forced him to give up the game, but he refused to stop drinking. Mom loved him when everyone else turned their backs on the fallen star. Her love wasn’t enough to put him back together, and by the time I came around, he was mean. He didn’t want a daughter, but he tolerated me because I was his child. Still, when mom was at work, if I made too much noise or did anything wrong, he made me see my error. Albeit, he ensured he left no marks. He recognized mom wouldn’t tolerate him hitting her daughter. To her, he spoke cruelly, but he didn’t strike her. I am thankful for that because it would have broken her heart. If she learned what he did to me, well, even as gentle as she was, she would have killed him.” I heard noises of distress around me, but my eyes saw nothing because I was lost to the past.
“He dabbled in the illegal, but his best friend thrived in it. I hate that man. I was so happy when Matty was born, I was eight, but it thrilled my father. However, he claimed he no longer had any need of me. So, to afford his tabs and outstanding bills, he told his friend he wanted to sell me off to the highest bidder.” My eyes closed, and I fought my tears while my body shuddered with a soft sob escaping my throat.
“Oh, Angel,” Claire whispered. I sensed movement, then her chair scraped, and she lay her arm across my shoulders. After swallowing at this unusual offer of comfort, I tried to find the courage to meet her eyes but lacked the strength.
“His friend liked me and always had. He was nice, but I didn’t like him. Mom did because he often brought dad home when he was drunk and got him out of whatever trouble he found. I hated the way he watched me. He never did anything, but he creeped me out. Anyway, after dad stated his intention when mom was at work, his friend’s expression darkened. The next day, dad was walking to the bar across the street from our apartment, and a car mowed him down. They pronounced him dead on impact,” my breath shuddered past my lips, and I blinked to dislodge the tears blurring my vision. Gentle fingers brushed them away, and I hesitantly met concerned green eyes.
“Even though dad was gone, his friend often hung around. Offering to watch Matty and me when mom had to work. Sometimes mom’s friend watched us instead. I preferred that. I asked that man if he was behind my father’s death, and he chuckled. He explained how it would have happened if he was, although the example he gave required his victim being in a car. He said he would box them in, a car on
