Lucy escapes from her abusive childhood home, only to find herself living in her car and pregnant with her drug dealer's baby. Her struggles to survive in a formidable world are sometimes shocking, sometimes very funny, sometimes sad, but they are all rem
Light through the Cracks REBECCA A. RAYMER Copyright © 2011 Rebecca A. Raymer All rights reserved. Library of Congress Control Number: 2011907314 ISBN: 1460984196 ISBN-13: 978-1460984192 For Jonny ♥ CONTENTS Acknowledgments i The Bridge 1 One 6 Two 64 Three 97 Four 164 Epilogue 227 i ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank – in no particular order- Jonny Raymer, Wesley Thompson, Jonah Raymer, Kristin Griffin, Allie Butler, Joshua Allen, Kimberly Raymer, and the rest of my wonderful family and friends for their fine editing skills and amazing support. I love you! 1 THE BRIDGE Lucy froze as a low, drawn-out moan rose from the floor in the hallway outside of her room. Her father’s steps were heavy and slow and deliberate, and the sound immediately turned her body to stone. She considered for a moment that she imagined the noise, but knew from the way everything in her mind seemed to tilt a little to the left that he was there. She knew he was making his way to her door, creeping like a cat toward an unsuspecting bird. Lucy was not a bird, and she was not unsuspecting because she was awake and intensely aware of her surroundings. Falling asleep at night was not something that came easily to her. She regularly pulled her covers over her head and read by flashlight long after her mother insisted she went to sleep. Reading her books carried her through the days, and very slowly and softly eased her into sleep at night. Her father’s presence outside her bedroom door terminated this process, and Lucy was immediately at full alert, the stillest and most awake she could possibly be. She wanted him to believe she was sleeping, so did not turn her flashlight off or close her book or roll over into a proper sleeping position because sleeping people did not do that. REBECCA A. RAYMER 2 She strained to hear the noises in the floor to determine where exactly her father was going in the middle of the night. It was not uncommon for him to wander the house at all hours, or to raid the pantry, binging on entire loaves of bread and entire jars of jelly and anything else he could get his thick, calloused hands on. He would then often fall asleep wherever he was sitting, usually on the couch in front of the television downstairs. Lucy did not like it when he slept on the couch, exposed and out in the open. She always recoiled from the sight of his bloated and hairy belly, of his mangy white briefs, and of his hair sticking up all over his head on the mornings after his nighttime gorging forays. She liked it when her father stayed in her parents’ bedroom, or in his home office. These were his designated areas of the house and as long as Lucy did not disturb him, he mostly stayed put, deeply engrossed in whatever it was that he did. Regardless of his intended destination, the sound of him moving about in the middle of the night was cause for alarm. As Lucy sat perfectly still under her blanket, she heard the soft metallic sound that her door handle made when someone was trying to turn it. She was immediately grateful for her recent insistence on locking her bedroom door. Her mother told her that she could not keep her door locked because the firemen would not be able to get her out if the house went up in flames. Lucy did not tell her mother that she had more immediate concerns than being trapped inside a burning house. Her father’s steps lingered in the hall. The flimsy lock on her bedroom door delayed his entrance, and also sounded a tiny alarm to warn her he was trying to get to her. Lucy knew he could easily get through her security system, but she also knew that it would be noisy if he did. . She strained to hear the noises in the floor to determine where exactly her father was going in the middle of the night. It was not. moan rose from the floor in the hallway outside of her room. Her father’s steps were heavy and slow and deliberate, and the sound immediately