Page 67 of Praying for Thunder

Kindness… Yes, it spreads such warmth. “Thank you.”

She faced the cross. “Don’t thank me. Thank Jesus.”

I admired her loyalty to the man on the wall, but deep down knew it was Rya who had touched my heart, daring it to beat again.

On my knees, where this girl would always put me, I watched her little lips open and tell Jay-sus how he needed to watch over Thunder’s mama, his Ani, his Dio, and she asked Jesus if it was okay to keep praying for Thunder.

Everlasting…

On the way back to Grandma’s, I didn’t run when seeing Dad waiting for me. He was livid, believing Grandma that I had tried to run away again.

As blows landed, he swore I was nothing but a Hellion.

Maybe he was right. He could’ve beat me to death, and I still would have found my way back to Rya.

⚡⚡⚡

During the four years in my grandmother’s care, even with Ryannon praying for me every day, the darkness of my fake family stained my spirit. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take, but Onus finding the cigarette burns on my back was a changing point. Apparently, he had the same scars and hated them almost as much as he hated his mother. Not that he removed me from her house after a firm warning, but at least I now knew I could get her in trouble.

The verbal abuse continued, but she had switched to speaking it in Spanish. Too young to not be affected by such derogatory remarks, I would involuntarily jolt. That’s how she figured it out.

As she rocked in her chair, she cooed, “Oh, so Anita ended up being smarter than we thought.”

Sitting at her feet, drawing a woman with a set of horns, I wouldn’t say anything and kept acting as if not understanding her.

This time of my life ended up being useful. It was practice for me. I became an expert at ignoring the Spanish language. I became a pro at collecting information…

The physical abuse lessened due to Onus’ threat, but also due to me now being twelve and getting bigger. Harder for Grandma to control. When she would strike, announcing it was coming in Spanish, I would duck, run, or even catch her wrist. It took some repetition, but I became quite effective.

Still holding her frail old wrist, we would stay in a standoff, her cursing in Spanish. Me smiling.

Me being a terrible grandson twisted into her excuse to start fostering young girls.

Fostering? Not even. Come to find out, she was tricking runaways. That’s why none of them tried to escape the house. That’s why I was clueless about what was happening. All I knew was every now and then, I’d have an in-house neighbor, a girl to befriend in a bedroom on the second floor with me.

To this day, I don’t know what kind of scam was going down—who was convincing these girls that they’d have a better life with Grandma, or who was delivering them to our home. But I learned mad cash can make people do mad things.

Grandma was now shopping often. She was gathering quite a collection of shoes, clothing, purses, and jewelry. None of it was as beautiful as the silver necklace Dio had from my biological father. I wondered who he was and if he would care about where I was.

I used to let myself dream that I would meet him someday.

“I think ya will,” Rya told me. Only ten years old now, she was remarkable. From a pew in the middle of the church, she stared at Jesus. “And he will be like Dio. Wanting ya safe.”

Rya was always breathing hope into my misery. She never tired of it. She just kept exhaling belief into my tired soul.

I asked her, “Who protects you, Rya?”

We were so young, possibly too young for crushes, but they were forming. Hers danced in her dreamlike eyes. “Maybe someday you can?”

There had been, and would be many more, firsts in my life, but that was the first moment I wanted to be like Dio, taking care of Rya like he had my Ani. “I can’t even stop that boy from messing with you at school, but I wish I could.”

She took my hand. “That’s because you’re my best friend.” My hand was pulled to her cheek as her eyes drifted shut. “Someday you’ll be more, Thunder.” She innocently sighed. “I love you.”

Everlasting…

Air had been punched out of my lungs by many fists. It was a pure pleasure to have it now sucked from my soul by this precious being. She was my only solace. The only light in my hellhole called life.

The days I wasn’t locked up in my room for being a hellion, or dealing with Grandma’s unrelenting wicked ways, I’d go to that church. That sweet girl would pray for me some more. She even prayed for the girls I told her about. The ones who came and went from my home, all to new ‘daddies’.