To Watch You Bleed

by Jordon Greene

  To Watch You Bleed

  By Jordon Greene

  Copyright © 2017 by Jordon Greene. All rights reserved.

  Visit the author’s website at www.JordonGreene.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by US copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities and incidents included in this story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events and entities is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Array Books

  213 Franklin Avenue NW | Concord, North Carolina 28025

  1.704.659.3915

  Edited by Chelly Peeler

  Cover design © 2017 by Paramita Bhattacharjee. All rights reserved.

  Interior design by Jordon Greene

  Published in the United States of America | First Edition

  To my brother, Jared Greene

  for not murdering me in my sleep

  while I wrote this story.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First, I’d like to thank my editor, Chelly Peeler. Beyond the fact that you have great taste in music, your edits and recommendations have made all the difference in this story. You’re easy to work with and have a great eye for my mistakes.

  As usual my family had a large role in the process as well. Thanks to my brother, Jared, and my mother, Kim. Both helped in almost every stage of the book’s development but were particularly instrumental in crafting the outline.

  A big thank you goes out to Nichole Appleby for helping me with the psychology behind the characters, and to Paul Lorenz for guiding me through my main character’s occupation as an Architect. Thanks to Mike Wagner and Kristina Sanger Love for critiquing my initial outline before I began writing.

  Thank you to Michael Wienhold and Mike Wager for beta reading the book before it went to the editor. Your notes and corrections were critical to the story. I’d also like to thank KD Delk, Lauren Gragg, Kevin Enloe, Angela Willis and Lisa Hoyle for your help as well. Whether you helped me find the right synonym, described a location, helped with the synopsis or gave input on the book’s title, I truly appreciate it.

  To you, the reader, thank you for picking up a copy of my newest story. I hope you enjoy it.

  CHAPTER 1

  A burst of brilliant white danced across the night sky just beyond my vantage outside the rear passenger window. I flinched as thunder shook the car a second later.

  “Ah!” Dusty yelped from the seat in front of me.

  “Calm your tits,” my dad chided him dismissively. “You’re not a little girl, or a baby, now are you?”

  “No,” Dusty tried, his voice was quiet and hurt. “I’m not.”

  With my lips pursed, I groaned and let my gaze escape to the heavy raindrops pelting my window. It was a cold November rain. It saturated every inch of the bare-limbed sycamores along the roadway, their branches swaying boisterously in the roiling wind.

  Dad refused to slow the car despite how hard the wipers were working, and failing, to clear the front windshield. I’m positive the tires had lost traction at least twice since we exited the elementary school parking lot from Dusty’s basketball game. I gripped my seatbelt tightly as another lightning bolt streaked the sky, followed a second later by a deafening thunderclap. My pale blue Marvel Comics t-shirt, the one with Captain America and Iron Man facing each other in an epic staring competition, clung to my shoulders, moistened from the short trip to the car.

  “You’re not?” Dad asked with a hint of a slur. The ever present bottle of cheap Smirnoff vodka was stowed neatly between his hip and the center console. It was Dad’s drink of choice. It did the job without the telltale odor. He had taken several generous swigs during the car ride and it was beginning to show.

  “No!” Dusty urged with a frown.

  I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, but I could imagine the tears taking root at the corners of my little brother’s eyes. I wished Dad would stop. Stop badgering him, stop drinking. All of it. Hell, maybe I wished he would just die. I don’t know…no. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted him to stop being such a douche.

  “Then why do you still squeal like a girl then?” Dad asked, taking his eyes off the road to look at my brother. “I mean your brother here doesn’t squeal and whine every time a little bit of lightning strikes.”

  I felt the anger building, but I kept my mouth shut. Dusty didn’t answer, he just sat there trying to find the words to say.

  “You’re what, nine? Your brother’s only thirteen, and he doesn’t do that shit,” Dad continued, waving his arms, his eyes no longer on the road. “I mean for God’s sake, you cannot even dribble a damned basketba—”

  The car jolted as a tire left the pavement and met gravel a few inches below. I threw my hand against the plastic armrest on my door and clamped my lips shut even though my insides wanted to scream. Once I forced my eyes to open again, I saw Dad fighting with the steering wheel, slowed by the vodka. The car bounced again and jumped back onto the small two-lane road. I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.

  “Ha ha, well wasn’t that exciting,” Dad whooped. I’m not sure if it was him or the alcohol talking, but the important thing was that we were back on the road. At least we were not on the side of the road wrapped around a tree.

  “So Dusty, like I was saying,” Dad continued as he paused to take another gulp of his clear companion, “we’ve really got to work on your dribbling. I bet y'all could have won if you didn’t suck at it so badly.”

  “Why do you have to be so mean to him?” I asked, my voice an octave higher than I had intended. My face felt warm despite the cold outside and it was growing warmer. Why could he not leave Dusty alone? It was just a stupid school game, it didn’t even count for anything. It was supposed to be fun, it’s not like he was trying out for the NBA.

  “Shut up, Chase, I’m talking to your brother.” His slur was more pronounced now and the car jerked back and forth at random intervals as Dad tried to compensate the car’s trajectory over and over again.

  Heat burning in my face, I pushed myself back into my seat and kept my mouth shut. It was either stay quiet or dodge Dad’s hand as it shot back aimlessly, trying to connect with anything fleshy. I chose the safer route.

  “I’ll try harder,” Dusty whispered.

  “You’ll do what?” Dad asked, cupping his ear. “What will you do?”

  “I’ll try harder!” This time Dusty nearly yelled it.

  “Damn right you will!” Dad retorted. “I’m going to wear the hide of that skinny butt until you do.”

  At that my little brother broke down. It started as a whimper. I begged him silently to stop, but it was no use.

  “You’re not crying now are you, boy?” Dad asked. He took his eyes off the road again. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't.

  Dusty failed to answer and finally the whimper turned into a sob. I finally managed to close my eyes, not wanting to be here, not wanting to witness what was sure to come.

  I heard a thump above the sound of the rain popping against the windows. I refused to watch. I had enough images seared into memory to know what was happening. I imagined Dad shoving Dusty against the passenger door, probably pushing harder than he realized.

  “Ouch,” Dusty yelped again. His sobs became full on crying. I knew the tears were pouring just like the rain outside. I kept my eyes closed.

  “Oh come on, you’re being such a little girl,” Dad complained. “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about you little pansy.”

  I opened my eyes a
s Dusty tried to contain the emotions that burned inside him. I empathized with him. I knew all too well how he felt right then. The desire to please my dad, the fear of an alcohol induced beating, the feeling of knuckles against my cheek, the hope that he just wouldn’t get drunk again. Useless. It was all useless.

  “Well, well, the little pansy decided to be a big boy,” my dad jeered.

  That brought Dusty down again and he burst into sobs. His hands went up just as the back of Dad’s free hand made contact with Dusty's mouth. He squealed in pain. Quickly the hand retracted and made another swatting motion, this time meeting Dusty’s arm instead.

  “Stop!” I cried. “You’re hurting him!”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and wedged myself between my brother and Dad on top of the center console. I had to stop him. I needed to.

  A sudden jolt of pain pierced up my nose as a hand meant for my little brother slammed into me. I extended my hands out, shoving back at my dad and guarding Dusty at the same time. Not again! Not Dusty!

  The car jerked hazardously from side-to-side but I couldn’t stop. He had to stop. I could not let him do this again.

  “Move it, Chase, I have to deal with your brother!”

  “No! Stop,” I screamed as another flash of light shone through the windows. Yet, this time it remained steady. It did not blink out as quickly as it appeared and there was no booming thunder. I looked out the windshield and saw the source of the light. Another car jerked back and forth along the pavement.

  “Dad!” was all I could get out. He saw it, too, but his reactions were slow and overemphasized as he yanked the steering wheel. Suddenly the sounds of tires screeching echoed in my head and I felt a harsh bang as the undercarriage met the pavement and the car jerked up onto two wheels. Dad jerked the steering wheel the opposite direction as I tried to get back to my seat and the car wrenched back to the right. My body was slung against the door.

  The sound of metal crunching and Dusty screaming began to melt together in my mind as the tires caught the ground again. I tried to hold my body still and attach my safety belt, but the momentum of the car kept me from my seat. Then abruptly the car jolted to a stop, slamming against the door as the opposite side of the car began to rise off the ground.

  Everything moved so fast as the car began to flip. Unbelted, my body slammed against the passenger door window and then against the ceiling. I reached out and tried to grab the headrest as my body was thrown like a rag doll. As the car continued to roll, my knee jammed into the driver’s side door with a crack accompanied by a sudden searing pain. I let out a high-pitched scream. My body slammed against the door, then the seat and once against the passenger window, which was nothing but shards of sharp glass. I felt the slivers cut through my skin as I was thrown helplessly. The car made another revolution and then the ceiling suddenly caved in just before my chest slammed against it.

  I felt all the oxygen in my lungs rush out just as I was thrown against the driver’s side door again. Finally, I let out a scream as the car’s motion began to slow, teetering on its side before it rolled back onto the roof. My body lay awkwardly along the ceiling, my back bent up toward the floor where the roof had caved in.

  “Ugh,” I groaned. Pain seared up my back and intensified as my head began to throb. I opened my mouth to a familiar coppery smell and the salty iron taste of blood on my lips. Each breath hurt and my mind spun in no particular direction, dazed by only God knew how many head on impacts with all parts of the cabin.

  Outside came another flash of light and a thunderclap that rocked the ground underneath me. My mind snapped back to reality.

  Dusty! Dad!

  I jerked up, at once regretting the decision. A splitting sensation ran up my side and sent me back to the ceiling, panting.

  Come on, Chase!

  Then I heard a soft whimper, a stutter almost. Dusty!

  More carefully this time, I willed myself to get to my hands and knees. OH! I let my right knee go slack as the pain overwhelmed my senses. I took a deep breath and pulled myself forward between the small opening that separated the front seats. The roof was buried into the headrests. I squirmed my way through, my eyes scared to look at what I might find.

  First, I saw Dad. His mouth was hanging wide open, his arms and hands slack at his side. A stream of blood etched a trail down his forehead, past his blank eyes. It dripped over his lips and then fell to the ceiling below where it mingled with the gathering storm water. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized he was dead.

  “Cha…” came Dusty’s tiny strained voice. “Chase.”

  I snatched my gaze away from my dad’s lifeless body and turned to Dusty, ignoring the shooting pain in my side. My lips began to tremble as my gaze settled on him. I did my best to smile.

  “Hey, Dusty,” I said carefully, trying to sound happy. “It’s okay.”

  Ungluing my eyes from his, I examined the ceiling bearing down on Dusty’s head. There was that same stream of blood trailing down his face past those scared brown eyes. His chest labored under each breath. I checked him over. It was easy to see that his door had bent inward, pinning him tightly between itself and the center console.

  My mind replayed the rolling and tumbling of the car and inside I felt the jolting pain of the door slamming against my brother’s small frame. I winced and a tear ran down my cheek. What do I do?

  “It’s going to be all right, buddy,” I told him, hoping it not to be a lie. I leaned across him, trying not to touch him, not wanting to introduce any new pain, and reached for his door handle. I yanked and pulled, nothing. Dusty whimpered at the sudden movement.

  “Sorry, Dusty,” I said. “I’ve got to get the door open.”

  With a grimace I tried again, but it refused to budge. My heart sank as Dusty sobbed sporadically through the pain. A sharp white flash permeated the car, giving the blood on Dusty’s face a more immediate presence. His face shouldn’t have looked like that. He should’ve been smiling and laughing, not that.

  I searched the car for something, anything to unpin Dusty. Finally, it hit me. It should have been an easy thought, but my mind was still a fog. If I could get out of the car, maybe I could wrench the door open from the outside.

  As quickly as the throbbing in my head and the jolting pain in my side would allow me, I pulled myself back into the backseat. Forgetting about my knee, I placed it firmly against the ceiling. I immediately wished I could take it back. My body fell limp to the ground under the pain. I clenched my teeth and squinted my eyes, trying to stave off the pain.

  Finally, I got back up to one knee and both hands and tried my door. Darn it! I thought. It wouldn’t budge. I tried again anyway. Nothing. I turned, careful to mind my likely broken knee, and tried the opposite door. I yanked and reeled. It would not budge. It was no good; it too was stuck in place, squashed solid between the roof and undercarriage.

  Defeated, I wedged my body back between the front seats and put on my best smile for Dusty. I reached out and placed my hand on his, giving it a good squeeze.

  “It’s all good, Dusty,” I lied. “We’re going to be just fine.”

  He nodded. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. I’m not sure which hurt worse, lying to my little brother or thinking he didn’t believe me.

  Dad’s cell phone! I can call 9-1-1. Quickly I turned to my dad’s lifeless form in the driver’s seat and after apologizing, I reached aimlessly around his body. He always kept the phone in his left pocket. I reached around his waist, my face nearly nose-to-nose with my dad’s lifeless expression. His eyes were open, staring coldly into my being. I shivered, the sudden realization that he would never say “Hey, Chase” again rung through my head. I froze in place, staring back into his eyes. Then a memory of his thick leather belt chaotically ripping across my legs and shoulders jolted me from my shock.

  I diverted my eyes and my hand finally found its way into the corpse’s pocket. There it was. I gripped the phone and pulled back as I caught another noise in t
he thumping rain outside. It was a light splat, splat. I looked up, craning my neck beneath Dusty’s body to look out what was left of the window, guarding my eyes from the rain. I squinted in disbelief. There was someone coming.

  “Help!” I yelled, a jolt of hope coursing through my veins. “Help!”

  The footsteps stopped and then began again. In seconds the feet were just next to the window and then knees crouched down in the mud.

  “Hurry,” I pleaded.

  Finally, a face appeared in the opening. Rain slapped against the shadowy figure. I squinted to make out more details, but it was too dark. They had short hair at least. A man. I think.

  “Please help!” I begged. “The door won’t open. My brother’s hurt.”

  The man began to yank on the door. It would not budge. He tried again. Finally, I caught a glimpse of detail as lightning illuminated his face. A wide jaw, slightly prominent but flat nose and bloodshot eyes. His hair was matted to his head from the downpour and he wore an unbuttoned collared shirt.

  He yanked at the door again before stopping to scan the cabin. Suddenly he froze, his gaze fixed behind me.

  “Is he alive?” the man spoke. His tenor voice held a familiar slur to it as his eyes went wide.

  “No,” I found the word, hating myself for how little sympathy I found behind it.

  “Oh no!” The man’s eyes opened wide. In the dark I couldn’t see, but I could imagine his face had gone white. “No, no, no, no.”

  He kept repeating the same word over and over again as he began to back away from the door, sliding on his butt in the mud.

  “Wait!” I yelled. “Don’t leave. My brother needs help!”

  “No, no, no, no,” was all that exited his lips. Finally, he stumbled up to his feet and bolted away.

  “No! Please! Help us!” I screamed as loud as I could.

  In the distance the faint sound of an engine roaring to life and screeching tires sank back to me.