by Lisa De Jong
Oh my God. Something was very, very wrong. I swerved around a car, cutting back in front of it to take the exit, slamming on the brakes when I came up behind the line of cars waiting at the intersection.
“Go!” I shouted as the cars slowly began to accelerate when the light turned green. I rammed my foot down on the gas and sped around them.
Fight!
It was there again.
I wanted to scream. Instead, I whispered, “I’m coming, Melanie,” more desperate and more terrified than I’d ever been.
I took the last turn into her neighborhood, skidding around the corner, the energy frenzied. Fear pulsed through me as the house came into view in the distance, the pull now so great I was nauseous.
I grabbed my phone, praying it had had enough time to charge, and ran across her yard to the front door.
Even with everything silent, I could feel her despair. I cracked open the front door, trying to remain as quiet as possible. I had no idea what I would find.
Cautiously, I stepped inside, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. For the first time in my life, I wished I carried a gun. I crept forward, swallowing down my panic when I saw the evidence of a struggle strewn across the floor, a toppled box with its contents scattered among shards of glass.
The urge to scream for her was overwhelming, though I stopped myself, sure I’d only put her in more danger. I progressed slowly across the room, keeping my footsteps light, cringing when my shoe crunched against broken glass. From somewhere deeper in the house came a rustle, then a low, guttural groan.
My heart stuttered.
Drawn, I moved toward the kitchen. For a moment, I lost the ability to function when I saw them, Nicholas above her, tearing at her clothes, tearing at his—the blood—my girl.
My vision clouded as I was assaulted with the darkest rage, a lust for death I’d never known.
Nicholas, so intent on this most depraved violation, didn’t even notice I was there until I’d launched myself across the room. He finally noticed my presence and jerked his head up to look up in my direction just in time for me to ram my fist into his face.
Something crunched and gave way beneath my hand.
The bloodlust surged.
I was on top of him, one hand holding him down while I drew the other back to deliver a slow, deliberate blow to the side of his face.
His head snapped to the side, his eyes fluttering as his consciousness ebbed. Shaking himself off, he sputtered, “Fuck you,” through his bloodied mouth. The blackest eyes stared up at me, filled with hate, lost to any compassion.
I itched to wrap my hands around his throat, to feel his pulse die out against my palms as I squeezed the last of his breath from him, to make him pay for what he’d done. To make him pay for ever laying a hand on Melanie.
It felt so good when I gave in, when I watched his eyes bulge in fear.
I pressed my eyes closed when I almost felt the hand on my shoulder, heard Melanie’s voice.
No.
I gasped, shocked from the dangerous place my mind had gone.
I cocked my arm back again and hit him hard enough to keep him down.
He slumped to the floor, this time unable to hold onto consciousness.
I sucked at the air I couldn’t seem to find, struggled to control the fury that still fought for release, and instead focused on the only reason I was here.
The only thing that mattered.
Sure that Nicholas was no longer a threat, I turned to my broken girl.
Fumbling with my phone, I managed to dial 911 and feel for her pulse at the same time. It beat weakly beneath my trembling fingers, but it was there, thank God.
The operator came on, and I yelled the address, asking for an ambulance and the police, begging them to hurry. The woman tried to ask questions, but I could hear nothing but the ringing in my ears, fear and rage pounding and pushing against every vein in my body.
“Melanie, no...baby, no,” I whimpered, tentatively reaching out to stroke her hair, my fingers wetted by the warmth seeping from the back of her head.
“You fucking bastard!” Her face was torn to shreds. A deep wound hung open over her eye, the skin sliced open through her eyebrow, blood still steadily flowing from it. Cuts and scrapes littered her face and another deep cut gaped just under her chin. Her nails were ripped and bloodied, filled with skin and hair from fighting off Nicholas. Her clothes were in tatters, the front of her shirt ripped open, her exposed skin saturated in the blood pouring from her mouth.
Her body had been his aim, it now broken and bruised at his hands.
Groaning, Nicholas rolled, coughing and spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor.
The corner of my mouth trembled, and I clenched my jaw as the urge to end his life flared.
Lifting his head, his hate-filled eyes met mine. I stared at him, my posture protective as I guarded Melanie.
“If you ever touch her again, I will kill you,” I snarled, my face twisting with hatred.
“She’s my wife,” he spat out.
“No,” I shook my head. “She’s mine. She’s always been mine.”
He snorted through his nose and wiped his bloody face with the back of his hand, his cocky demeanor back in full force. “She’s not fucking worth it.” But the expression on his face told me that he knew she was.
Sirens wailed in the distance, drew near.
He slumped back down to the floor when four police officers entered, their guns drawn in preparation for an unknown situation.
Meeting no resistance, they waved in the paramedics.
“Sir, we need you to get back.”
I slid back on the floor and sagged against the cabinet while two paramedics began treatment on Melanie and two others knelt beside Nicholas to assess his injuries. They moved quickly and efficiently over my girl, placing a brace around her neck and compresses against her wounds. I watched helplessly as they transferred her unconscious form onto a stretcher.
The pull I felt for her now was indescribable, the need to be by her, to touch her. I could feel her soul calling for mine, scared and unsure. Even in her unaware state, her lips rolled with my name.
When I could resist her no longer, I squeezed in beside her and took her hand in mine. I whispered in her ear that I was near, that she would be fine. I told her that she was free, that we could now be together. I praised her for being so brave and swore that Nicholas would never harm her again.
“Sir, we need to take her now.”
I nodded and placed a soft kiss against her forehead. Her face, even broken and dried with blood, was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “I love you, Melanie. I’ll be right behind you, sweetheart.”
Reluctantly, I stepped away and dropped her hand. I trailed behind as they pushed her out the door and slid her into the back of the waiting ambulance.
Jumping into my car, I pulled out onto the road right behind the ambulance.
Grabbing my phone, I meant to dial my dad to let him know what’d happened, but froze when I saw the text message that popped up on my screen, the one I’d been too upset to even register when I’d dialed 911.
Where are you? The baby is coming!
Shit.
I just prayed this was another sad attempt by Vanessa to garner more attention. My hand shook as I pressed the button for voicemail. The generic voice came on and informed me I had twenty-seven new voice messages.
I sped through each one that wasn’t Vanessa, for the first time in my life wanting to hear her voice. Nine messages in, she was there.
“My water broke. I’m going to the hospital.”
“Fuck!” I screamed into the phone, replaying it so I could hear when she’d called. The message had been left Saturday morning. Two days ago.
My stomach twisted in knots. The first wave of concern I’d ever felt for the child flooded me. Images of Eva’s tiny body flashed through my mind—the wires and needles and suffering she’d only known for the two short da
ys of her life.
I skipped forward through more messages, riddled with guilt when Vanessa’s voice came on again. “Daniel, the baby’s coming. Where are you? Please...call me...I’m scared.”
On the last message, no words were said. There were only the soft sounds of a woman crying, familiar enough that I knew it was Vanessa. It had come in late Saturday night.
“Vanessa!” I screamed as if she could hear me yelling at her through the message.
I frantically dialed my father.
“Dad.” My voice shook with emotion. There had been too much pressure, first Melanie and now this.
“Daniel?” he asked. “Calm down. Tell me what happened.”
“It’s Melanie’s. She’s hurt.”
“What?” His voice rose. “What the hell happened?”
“Nicholas.” It was all I could get out, but all he needed to understand.
“Damn it,” he swore under his breath. “Is she okay? Where are you?”
“Uh...I’m,” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. “I’m following the ambulance. I think she’ll be okay...but she’s beat up pretty badly.”
I could hear him shuffling around, his keys jingling as they scraped across his desk. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll meet you there. Which hospital?”
“Mercy. Dad...I...there was a message from Vanessa. I think she had the baby. Dad—” The pall of high anxiety I had experienced spread out, falling over me in a blanket of quiet dread. “He’s early.”
I felt Dad’s pause, his breath absent for a brief moment. When he returned, his voice was soft. “Son, it’s not the same. He’s just a little more than three weeks early. He should be fine.”
“Can you check on them for me? I...I just can’t handle all of it right now. I have to take care of Melanie first.” Melanie would always be my first priority. And beyond that, I just wasn’t ready to face that reality yet.
“Sure, son. I’ll take care of it.”
The rest of the trip was a haze. The fifteen minutes seemed like a lifetime, my mind trapped in a sea of memories. So much love, so much loss, that familiar pain so prominent, that pain always present when I saw Eva’s face.
And, Melanie. I was a fool to have let her go back there alone.
The ambulance pulled into the circular drive in front of the ER, and I found the closest spot I could. I ran across the parking lot and got there just as they were pulling her out.
She was awake.
Relief crashed over me, nearly knocking me to my knees.
Her eyes were glassy, but her soul was alive in them, locking with mine even in their muddled state.
She was going to be okay.
Dad came rushing out the sliding doors of the ER. He was agitated, his graying hair sticking up from where he’d run his hands over his head. The agitation lining his face eased when he saw us. We followed the paramedics inside, and they took her straight to a curtained room and transferred her to the bed.
Dad tugged on my arm, pulling me back into the hallway while they worked around her. He whispered cautiously, “Daniel, the baby...he was born Saturday night. They’re here…in this hospital.”
My hands went immediately to the sides of my head, trying to force the alarm from my mind.
“He’s fine. He’s upstairs, in the regular nursery.” He lowered his voice even further, unsure of how much information I could handle. “He was five pounds, two ounces, perfect health, no complications.” His hand was on my arm, firm, offering reassurance.
I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, looking at the ceiling as I released the fear, the baby’s health my solace.
I might not be able to love him, but I couldn’t tolerate the thought of something bad happening to him.
“And Vanessa?” I was more than shocked that I cared anything about her condition, but I did.
“She’s fine. She had a C-section so they kept her for three days. They should both be released tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to go up there?” He cocked his head upward.
I shook my head, glancing at Melanie’s room and back to him, ashamed. “I’m not ready yet.”
He nodded in understanding but couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Okay. Go take care of Melanie. I’m going to call your mother and sister. Neither of them have any idea what’s going on. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay. And Dad...could you call Peggy and let her know what happened? I don’t want to leave her in the dark again.”
“Sure.” He smiled in reassurance, before turning and walking away.
I pulled back the drape to Melanie’s room, standing awkwardly in the corner, trying to stay out of the way as the EMTs finished their job and the nurse took over. I wanted to be the one by Melanie’s side, the one to fix her, to make up for being too late. I felt useless as they worked over her. The only thing I could do was comfort her from afar. I felt the intense pull as her heart called for mine, her eyes wide with her love but shadowed with the fear that still controlled her nerves. The EMTs left, and the nurse hooked her to a monitor, taking her vitals, scribbling things down in her chart, finally allowing me the room to get to her side.
“Oh, baby. It’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmured, running my thumb over her cheek.
Her voice was hoarse and low, the narcotics coursing through her veins, ebbing the pain but also her coherency. “What happened to Nicholas?”
“He’ll survive.” Unfortunately. I looked at the floor before turning my gaze back to her, making a promise I was sure of, though I didn’t really know why. “He’ll never hurt you again, Melanie. It’s over.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Even though she was slowly sinking into oblivion, her eyes were intense and without disillusion. “I heard you.”
She heard me.
I called out my own appreciation to whatever power it was that led us and brought us together the first time and then again. The one that bound us, the energy that fought for us no matter what obstacles we had to overcome.
I smiled down at Melanie and squeezed her hand, knowing I would never be able to grasp the depth to which I was bound to this woman. “I heard you, too.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, though her grip remained firm in mine.
The curtain rustled and a doctor emerged, introducing himself as Dr. Anderson. He was tall and thin, his dark brown hair meticulously combed to the side, his eyes framed by metal-rimmed glasses. Melanie never stirred during his examination. I watched over his shoulder, clearly making him nervous, but I was certain he would be more thorough if he knew I was paying attention to everything he did.
“I’m going to have a plastic surgeon come down and suture these two lacerations,” he said, pointing to the one on her eyelid and the one under her chin, “and I’ll suture the one in her mouth. The rest are just superficial. We’ll also get a CT scan to make sure she’s not having any swelling from the trauma to the back of her head and an x-ray of her chest and upper extremities, but from my exam, I’m guessing they’ll be negative. Other than that, she looks okay.”
The whole time they worked on her, I stayed by her side, her small hand held in mine. My spirit sang with hers, calming her, promising her she was safe, assuring her she would be fine.
I was certain Melanie’s body would heal easily but feared her worst scars would be from the emotional damage Nicholas had inflicted on her over the last nine years.
When they wheeled Melanie’s sleeping form out of the ER and down the hall to get her CT and x-rays, I sank heavily down in the chair, resting my head against the wall with my eyes shut. I was absolutely exhausted. I began to doze when a light tapping on my shoulder startled me. The same nurse who had tended to Melanie looked down at me apologetically. “Sir, there are police outside who need to speak with you.”
I raked my hands over my face, trying to wake myself. Two officers stood just outside Melanie’s room, talking quietly as I approached them. “I’m Daniel Montgomery. You
needed to speak with me?”
“We need to ask you a couple of questions.”
I answered each of their questions as honestly and as straightforwardly as I could, feeling only slightly uncomfortable when they asked about my relationship with Melanie. I could only imagine what they were thinking when I told them of our affair and the events that had led up to this afternoon. They had no idea about our past. They knew only that Melanie had been unfaithful to her husband. No matter what the circumstances, though, Nicholas had no right to hurt her, so I just answered the detectives and hid nothing.
Thankfully, they saw it the same way, another cut-and-dry case of domestic violence. It was obvious who the aggressor had been in the situation, and they promised me Nicholas would be charged as such.
I wandered back to the chair, finding a few moments more rest before they brought Melanie back. She was alert, one side of her face drawn in a small smile when she saw me, though she held herself rigid, guarding herself from moving in a way that would elicit a reaction to her wounds.
“Hi.” She reached for me and I wrapped her up in my arms, careful not to cause her more pain, though she seemed to need my touch more than the caution I was trying to impart by not getting too close to her.
“Hey, beautiful. How are you feeling?” I leaned in to kiss her, so lightly my lips barely brushed against hers.
“Sore,” she swallowed, clearing her throat. “But I’m okay.”
We both jumped when Dr. Anderson rushed in. “So, all your imaging was clear. Nothing’s broken and there’s just a small amount of swelling around your brain, nothing to be too concerned about, but we are going to go ahead and admit you so we can keep an eye on you overnight.”
I trailed behind them as they moved her upstairs to the third floor. The sign indicating Newborn Nursery 5th Floor jumped out at me among the fourteen others.
I still couldn’t believe this had happened. I thought Melanie and I would have time by ourselves at home, time to talk and decide how we were going to handle this, time to plan. Now I’d run out of time and I was a father.
As much as I needed to tell Melanie, I didn’t have the heart to do it. I could almost see the sadness that would cloud her eyes even though her words would be filled with soft encouragement and hope for my future.
