Save Me

by Alexander, AJ

  Save Me

  AJ Alexander

  Andi Jaxon

  Contents

  Warning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Want to know more?

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  Also by AJ Alexander

  Also by Andi Jaxon

  About AJ Alexander

  About Andi Jaxon

  Save Me

  Copyright © 2019 by Andi Jaxon and AJ Alexander. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Just Write. Creation and Designs

  Editing: Jenny Dillion with Prologue and Prose

  Proofreading: Jess Rousseau with Elemental Editing & Proofreading

  Emma Mack with Ultra Editing Co.

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to all those who suffer in silence. This is your story, your chance to be heard.

  You are not alone, and you are not at fault. There are others just like you throughout the world who understand. There are those who want to hear your story, who want to help your voice be heard.

  National Domestic Abuse Hotline

  Get help without saying a word. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

  http://www.thehotline.org

  Warning

  This story contains mention of physical and emotional abuse. It’s described, at times, in detail during the story.

  Chapter One

  ADAM

  I walk in the door after a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, the second one in two days. I’m not complaining. I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. The desire to help people is part of me. Dropping my keys near the door, I make my way up the stairs. Dropping clothes on the way, arriving at my bedroom door in just my boxers. I climb into bed, not taking long for me to fall asleep; I just want one night of peaceful sleep.

  “Stop! Stop, hitting Mommy!” Tears stream down my face as I scream for mercy. I helplessly watch as my mother is beaten for my mistake.

  “She needs to know her place, boy. Women are to serve us.” My father’s foot comes crashes into my mother’s side once again.

  “I did it! I knocked over your dinner. It was all my fault.” I step in between my parents praying this one time I’ll be able to protect her from my father’s wrath. He pushes me aside. I wish he would hit me; I pray for it. “Father, please!”

  “You did this, you made my boy a pussy.” He continues to beat her as I watch, praying this time won't be the last. The entire time she doesn’t cry out or defend herself. I want to be angry, but if I can’t protect her, why should she protect herself. I know I’m only eight years only, but I’m her son and should take care of her.

  “Clean this mess up and get out of my sight.” He grabs a towel off the counter and wipes the blood off his boots before stomping out the door. I wait a few moments before running for the phone and dialing 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1 Emergency Services, please state your emergency?” I rattle off the list of injuries that I think my mom has, making an excuse for her injuries.

  Once I’m done with the call, I run over to my mother. “Why, Mom? We can leave right from the hospital and never look back. Every time we go, they promise to help us. You just need to tell them what he does. Please.”

  “Baby, everything will be okay. Your father loves us. I just need to do better.” My mother winces as she attempts to sit up.

  I bolt upright in bed; a dream free night was too much to ask. I reach for the clock on the end table. “A good five hours, that’s more than usual,” I mumble to no one in particular. It’s a little early to call my mom, but I need to hear her voice. Reaching for my phone, I hit the speed dial button and wait for her to answer.

  “Another dream I suppose?” Her soft voice drifts across the line.

  “Yeah, how do you always seem to know? Can’t a son call his mother anymore.”

  I hear her yawn before responding, “I always welcome a call from you, but not at 4 a.m. in the morning. I was planning on sleeping in today.”

  I chuckle, “Mom, you’ve never slept in a day in your life. I don’t believe you would start now.”

  “Fair enough. What was it this time?” Concern laced in her words, always the mother. Needing to protect her baby boy from all his demons. I was the one that should have been protecting her.

  “Doesn’t matter. What matters is I couldn’t protect you.” I growl into the phone. I will always regret my inability to protect my mother from that monster.

  “Adam, I will say this until the day that I die. I am your mother, it’s my job to protect you. Not the other way around. No matter how many lives you save or how hard you work yourself to the bone, it will not make what your father did to us go away.”

  “Why, Mom? Why?” It’s the same question I have asked my mother repeatedly all these years.

  “Because I loved him, and I thought her loved me — both of us. I thought that if I loved him enough, he would stop beating me. However, the day he tried to put his hands on you,” she pauses, bringing back the last day I saw my father.

  “I wish I had killed him,” I mumble into the phone, hoping she didn’t hear me.

  “Never say that!” She shouts, “No matter what kind of monster he was, he was still your father.”

  “I’m glad he’s dead,” I say clearly. No matter what my mother says, I can never regret the day we were notified of my father’s death. Beaten to death at a local bar, serves him right.

  “Me too.” We both remain silent for a few moments, thinking about how things could have been different if we didn’t leave that day.

  “Well enough of that, it’s time for you to let this burden go. I am happier than ever, it is your turn. Find a nice girl to settle down with, I’m not getting any younger you know.”

  Leave it to my mom to bring up her desire for grandchildren at a time like this. Before I have a chance to respond, my phone beeps. “As much as I would love continuing this conversation, I have another call, most likely from the hospital.”

  “You are going to work yourself to death, then who is going to take care of me?” I can hear the worry in her voice. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get her to understand that I don’t just love being a doctor, but I need to do this as well.

  “Mom, everything will be fine. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Adam.”

  I wait for my mother to hang up before clickin
g over to the other line, “Dr. Patterson speaking.”

  “I’m sorry to do this to you again, Adam. Is it possible for you to come in and cover a shift?” Duty calls, just as I expected. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and head toward the bathroom.

  Everyone that works on my floor knows I never say no — ever. I would work every day if they would let me, but they have rules against that. “It’s not a problem. I was able to get a few hours of sleep. I can be there in about an hour. Will that work?” I put the phone on speaker, and begin to shave.

  “Not a problem at all, thanks so much.”

  Chapter Two

  ISABEL

  Movers have been running in and out of our new home in Washington since the truck arrived a few hours ago. It’s a change from where we used to live, but a welcome one. Hopefully, things will be better here.

  I watch movers unload the trailer. This is our second move since we married; the Navy doesn’t care how long we’ve been in one location. Maybe this time we’ll be here longer than three years.

  My anxiety peaks as movers bring boxes and furniture into the house, dropping them into rooms. Chaos isn’t a welcome sight for our family. My husband, Jason has been on edge since the movers arrived in San Diego to pack our belongings, and it’s only gotten worse. Once the house is unpacked and everything is running smoothly, his anger will dissipate-hopefully. The stress of a twelve-hundred-mile move can put anyone on edge; I need to get all these boxes gone, emptied, and the house organized as soon as possible.

  “Ma’am, where would you like these boxes?” a worker asks expectantly, but I can’t answer. My breathing quickens at such a simple question.

  “Ma’am?” he questions again. I open my mouth to answer, but Jason steps in to answer for me.

  “Just against that wall in the dining room is fine.” The worker nods before putting the box down and leaving. Jason grabs my arm; I can feel the bruises forming over the yellow marks from a few weeks ago.

  “You don’t talk to anyone. Do you understand me?” his growl in my ear getting no argument. Flinching away from him, I feel his breath against my skin.

  “Be a good little mouse and get this shit put away, or I’ll make sure you won’t be able to breathe for a month. It’s hard to protect the little brat when you can’t breathe.” The next thing I hear is the front door slam, a car starting, and tires squealing.

  I release a shaky breath and close my eyes, Jason knows just the right ways to hurt me, how to make sure I stay complacent. No one ever seems to notice and if they do, they let his rank intimidate them to keep quiet.

  The move has been stressful for him and I haven’t been sleeping very well. My exhaustion has made me lazy; I need to be better at taking care of things around here.

  As the day progresses, I continue unpacking. I need to get as much done as possible before Jason returns. He’ll be happy and less stressed the more I get done.

  The kitchen is almost organized; the master bedroom is clean and arranged to Jason’s exact specifications. I even managed to get the master bathroom organized the way he likes it. I’m working on Sophie’s room now; I want to have it set up to keep her busy and out of his way when he gets home. He’s always happier when she is occupied and out of his way.

  It’s almost time for dinner, Sophie will be hungry soon. I’m unsure what to do, Jason still hasn’t come home yet. He prefers that dinner be piping hot when he sits down to eat, but without knowing when he will return, I’m unsure when to start cooking.

  I notice the movers are beginning to pack up the truck, getting ready to depart. Jason told me not to speak to them, but they’ll need someone to sign for the delivery of the furniture. Maybe I can just sign it and not say anything.

  You know if you even get close to one of those movers Jason will lose his mind. He hates when other men even look in your direction; he’s protective of you and Sophie. He says you two belong to him and no one else.

  I decided to call Jason; I need to let him know about the movers being finished. Then he can let me know what time he will be home and whether or not I should sign the paperwork. Feeling content with my decision I pick up the phone and dial. The line barely has a chance to ring before he picks up.

  “Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you want?”

  “I-I-I’m sorry. The-the-the mov-movers are al-al-almost done,” I stutter.

  I hate that I stutter when he’s angry, it makes him more furious, but I can’t stop it.

  “Can’t you do anything alone? I’ll be there in a god-damn minute,” he growls before hanging up.

  “Mommy?” my daughter’s sweet voice drifts down the hallway.

  “Yes, sweetheart?” I say, trying to keep the tremble from my voice.

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you know when dinner is ready. Please go back to your room and play, honey. Daddy is stressed and needs quiet when he gets home.” She shouldn’t know anything about living in fear, at four years old, she should be worried about picking her favorite pony and which book she wants to read before bed, but having grown up in the house with him, she knows what I mean. My poor, innocent, little girl has seen too much.

  Her head and shoulders slump. “Okay, Mommy.” Her soft sigh guts me as she walks back down the hallway and closes her door softly. He’s not even here, and she’s still careful not to make a noise. Will she ever be able to live without fear? Will I?

  When Jason returns, I feel it before he even enters the house. I take a seat on the couch and begin rocking back and forth. My stomach turns as he storms in the door. The lead mover stands with a clipboard, not sure how to react. The last time one of them tried to talk to me, I wouldn’t respond. I’m more afraid of Jason’s wrath than looking abnormal to strangers.

  Jason puts on his ‘fake face,’ the one that he shows the world. The one never directed at me.

  “Sorry about that, I prefer to be the one to sign the forms. I have a control issue,” he chuckles at his own joke.

  “No problem, sir. I need you to sign a few papers, and we’ll be on our way,” the man responds handing over the clipboard.

  He signs the forms, then the workers once again leaving me at my husband’s mercy.

  Looking at me, he smirks, but it’s not a good sign. I’ve made him angry, and now it’s time to pay the price. I only hope Sophie stays out of the way this time.

  Chapter Three

  ADAM

  It feels like yesterday when my mom and I left my father for good. I graduated from high school, went to college, and graduated with honors. Even after everything I went through, I refused to let my father stop me from making my mother proud. I was determined to take care of her. To become the man she needed me to be — one she deserved.

  The thought of being a social worker after college crossed my mind but having been through the system, I know they had no real power. Besides, I had my mother to take care of now. I needed money, but I also needed power.

  All through my life, it was the doctors that patched my mother up that would get the police to listen. They would see past my father’s, at times my mother’s, lies and attempt to get us the help that we needed. That was what I wanted, to be that light at the end of the tunnel for someone. Even when someone was in their darkest hour, the person they knew would look out for them. The person that would speak for them, when they couldn’t speak for themselves.

  So I decided to stay close to home, completed medical school and my residency at Northwestern, but the bills were pilling up for both my mother and me. A navy recruiter came in and spoke to us about serving our country, but I honestly only heard the part about paying off student loans with a signing bonus.

  Now, here I am a Lieutenant in the United States Navy. I wake up every morning — on the nights I go to sleep — with the hope of protecting at least one person from dealing with the same abuse my mother did

  “Honey, are you listening to me?” My mother’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

 
“Of course I am, Mom, I was just catching up on some charts.”

  “Adam, you need to take some time for yourself every once in a while. It isn’t your mission in life to save the world.”

  “All I’ve ever wanted to do is save people, Mom. For the rest of my life, I’ll regret I wasn’t able to save you.” A lump formed in my throat.

  “Nothing that your father did to me was your fault.”

  “You stayed because of me. Making it completely my fault,” I growl into the phone.

  “Adam, he was the one who hit me. I am the one who chose to stay, no matter what the reason. You were a child and I believed I was making the best decision for you. Even if you were older, you could never have made me leave if I didn’t want to.” My mother whispers into the phone.

  I hear nothing but pain and regret in her tone. “Mom, I know you would have left if you had somewhere else to go.”

  “There are plenty of places for women in that situation to go, I was just too stubborn to believe that your father was a monster. I believed that I could change him, make him love both of us that way that he should have from the beginning.”