Keep Me Safe

by Raquel Lyon

  “He’s my dad. Someone has to take care of him.”

  “But who’s gonna take care of you?” He paused. “I’d like to, if you’ll let me. Let me help you, Molly.”

  She withdrew her hand from his. “You can’t. Can we change the subject now, please? This conversation is not my idea of fun.”

  He’d crossed the line. She needed more time to trust him. Time to lighten the mood. “Okay,” he said, straightening up. “Tell me what is?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t do much apart from work and study.”

  “There must be something you enjoy?”

  She shrugged. “Only my music.”

  “Do you write your own stuff?”

  “Actually. That was my song; the one playing at Crown Point.”

  “Really? Cool. Don’t forget me when you’re famous.”

  “No chance of that.” Her face softened and a half-smile played on her lips for a second before it straightened. “Being famous, I mean, not forgetting you.”

  “Nice to know I’m forgettable.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s okay.” He chuckled. “Come on. We’d better not hog these seats any longer.”

  “Are we going home?”

  “No chance. You think I’m calling time on our date, already?”

  “Then where are we going?”

  “No idea. Haven’t you ever done anything spontaneous?”

  “It’s not exactly an option for me. My dad—“

  “Doesn’t control you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Molly

  At the end of the main street, they turned left through the park gates. With the light fading fast, the grounds were spookily quiet and empty, apart from a handful of late-night dog walkers. Kendrick took Molly’s hand. “This way,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

  “What?” Molly asked, as her arm was almost pulled from its socket, and she was dragged over the lawned area.

  “This,” he said, stopping suddenly.

  She searched the darkness and found nothing unusual. What the hell was he trying to show her? “I can’t see anything,” she said.

  He slapped his palm on an old tree trunk. “This,” he repeated.

  “Um… It’s a tree.”

  “Not just any old tree. This is the tree where my dad met my mum. The tree where we used to picnic, when I was small. The tree I spent most of my childhood climbing. It means a lot to me. I wanted to share it with you. It’s kinda my special place. I come here when I want to be alone.”

  She laughed. “Should I leave, then?”

  “Very funny. Look. Put your foot on this knot, here, and grab hold of that branch.” He pointed up to the left. “You should be able to reach that branch, there,” he pointed to the right, “with your other foot.”

  “You’re expecting me to climb?”

  “Yep. Unless you can fly.”

  He had to be kidding. “You’re crazy.”

  “What’s wrong? You don’t strike me as a girly girl. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights?”

  “No.”

  “Then get that sweet, little ass up on that branch. There’s plenty of room for two.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Go on. I’m right behind you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for god’s sake,” she said, hitching the legs of her jeans higher up her thighs, grateful she wasn’t wearing a miniskirt. If she had to climb a damn tree, the last thing she wanted was to expose her knickers to the sound of ripping denim.

  Hoisting herself skyward, with Kendrick’s hand pushing on her ass, she had to admit it felt good. And when she made it onto the well-worn limb, it was as if she’d entered another world. Only the faint rustling of leaves in the night breeze disturbed the peace, and a full moon cast dappled shadows over her legs. She studied their changing shapes as Kendrick sat down beside her.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I’m wondering if there are spiders up here,” she said.

  One of his arms crept behind her back and braced against the branch, while his other hand landed on her thigh. “Probably. But don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the eight-legged monsters.”

  Heat from his fingers seared through to her skin. “And the two-handed ones?” she asked, turning to face him and suddenly wondering whether she meant Rick, or if her subconscious was thinking of a different monster.

  “Not making any promises on that score.” He held her gaze and the moonlight reflected in his eyes. Despite his rugged exterior, they looked like kind eyes. Did she honestly need protecting from them? He inched closer. “Molly?”

  Breaking his stare, she looked up through the canopy of leaves. ”So many stars,” she said.

  “None as bright as you.”

  She could feel his stare still on her cheek. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t spoil it.”

  “How? Am I not allowed to pay you a compliment? You’re beautiful. You’ve gotta know that.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t have that kind of relationship.”

  His hand lifted from her thigh to his chest. “You’re breaking my heart, over here.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing. I just can’t get involved, right now.”

  “Then when?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe never.”

  “Never is a long time.”

  Molly followed a bird silhouette flying from one treetop to another. Birds had it easy. If they weren’t happy being somewhere, they simply took flight and moved somewhere else. “So is every day of my life.”

  The touch of his rough fingers on her chin turned her face back to his. “What is it, Molly? There’s something you’re not telling me. I don’t believe for one second you don’t feel anything for me. I know I’m not smart, but I don’t have shit for brains.”

  “I have responsibilities. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You’re talking about your dad again, aren’t you? Would I be way off base in thinking he wants to keep his little girl all to himself, to cook and clean for him, hmm? Because there’s a difference between taking care of him and being Cinderella.”

  “Cinderella didn’t have to pay the rent too.”

  “Aw, Molly. That’s not your responsibility; it’s his. I can’t believe you’re living like that.”

  “Neither can I. My life is one giant ball of suck. I’m sick of waking up in the same house, in the same bed, with the same pisshead father, every fucking day.”

  If her outburst surprised him, he didn’t show it. “Then you have to get out.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know how. I’m stuck.”

  “Not for much longer. You’ve got me now, and I might not have a bean to my name, but I’m working on it. Hang in there, and I’ll figure a way to get you out of that shit.”

  She wanted to believe him. She really did. But it was a big promise to make to someone he barely knew, and why should he care? It wasn’t his problem. “Do you give such pretty speeches to all your girls?”

  “Nope. I often get through an evening without any talking involved, at all.”

  Her lips curved all the way, this time. She’d almost forgotten she had a smile. “I’ve heard that about you,” she said.

  “And it’s probably all true, but you’ve changed me.”

  “Me? I doubt that.”

  “Don’t.”

  “So what makes me so special?”

  “This.” He leaned in and laid a soft kiss on her lips.

  His lightest of touch made her feel naked and had her yearning for more, but she had to stay strong. Moving her hand between them, she prised him away. “I thought I told you this isn’t happening?”

  “It’s only a kiss.”

  “No, it isn’t. Once is a mistake; twice is a relationship.”

  “There’re a few girls I know would say otherwi
se.”

  “I’m not one of those girls.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re better than that, but you can’t blame a dude for trying.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d like to go home now.”

  “What is there to go home to? Stay with me. The night’s young.”

  “It’s too hard.”

  “What is?”

  “Being with you. It’s not possible. You’re not getting the message, and I don’t want to lead you on.”

  “I’m sorry.” He held his palms up. “I promise to keep my hands to myself from now on, if that’s what you want.”

  “It is. I also want to go home.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “Friends?”

  “Sure.”

  Less than twenty minutes later, they were saying goodbye, at the end of Molly’s path.

  “When can I see you again?” Kendrick asked.

  “You’ll see me around.”

  “Not good enough. Friends hang out together. How about tomorrow night?”

  “I’m working,” Molly lied.

  “Saturday, then?”

  “Sorry. Working.”

  “Give me your phone number, then. I’ll call you.”

  The hairs on the back of Molly’s neck prickled, and she was certain, in the corner of her vision, she could see the living-room curtain twitching. Of course, it could be her eyes playing tricks on her, but she was wary enough not to push her luck. “You need to go.”

  “Not without your number.”

  “Fine. Give me your phone.” Kendrick passed her his handset, and she punched her number into the keypad. “There. Now go,” she said, running up the path and through the door before he could stop her.

  Inside, her father was waiting, and this time, she saw the fist as it hurtled towards her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Molly

  When she woke up, the next morning, her face felt as if it had been hit by a sledgehammer, but at least, the pain had dulled from splitting to throb. She stumbled to the mirror to check out the damage.

  Shit.

  Her father’s outbursts were normally infrequent enough to allow the bruises to fade before she was presented with another set, but this time, there were so many colours on her face, she looked like some kind of abstract 3D painting. Joining the old split lip was another, only a centimetre away, and his wedding ring had sliced a trail along one side of her jawbone, which no amount of make-up would be able to conceal.

  She could still hear the vicious tone in his voice as he flung names and accusations her way, while she was still reeling from his punch. But it was the words he’d said, as she’d fled to her room, that had lodged in her brain and been stuck on autorepeat, ever since. Cold words. Evil words. “Should have killed him when I had the chance.”

  She hardly dared to believe it, but it was the only explanation, and hatred for the man had been simmering, all night. How could she have been so blind? It was one thing for her father to take his temper out on her. But half-killing an innocent stranger was a whole other matter. She shouldn’t have let it happen. If she’d offered to check outside, when he’d heard the noise, Kendrick would have been okay. Guilt quickly replaced anger, and she realised Kendrick was right. Her father wasn’t a man; he was an abusive coward who deserved to be left to rot. He’d gone too far, this time, and living with him put everyone she knew in danger.

  With her time at college coming to an end, and no exams scheduled for the day ahead, she was thankful she’d be able to hide from prying eyes. Her father, on the other hand, was a different matter. The less she saw of him today, the better, and if she could avoid him altogether, she would. She was tired of living a lie. When you take enough pain and humiliation, a part of you dies, but what’s left either withers away or steps up and fights. She knew what she had to do. If only she had somewhere else to go.

  Certain she was doing the right thing, she dressed quickly and considered shooting Yvonne a text. Perhaps she’d offer her a space on her bedroom floor until she could come up with an alternative? But then, there’d be questions. Yvonne would want to know why, and Molly would have to admit she’d been lying to her for years. As good a friend as Yvonne was, Molly couldn’t be sure their friendship was strong enough to survive the deceit. She should have told her the truth from the start. Why did she always have to think she could handle her shit on her own? This was a time she definitely wished she had more friends. But she didn’t. She was alone.

  The toilet flushed, and her father’s voice thundered through the walls. “Get out here and make my breakfast, girl? You expect me to starve?”

  I wish you would.

  So much for avoiding him. It was obviously too much to ask for a bit of luck on the one day it would have been good for him to have one of his hangover days, where he slept it off until midmorning. Clearly, she was going to have to do this the hard way, but she couldn’t let him know she knew what he’d done. She’d have to act as if everything was normal. He mustn’t know anything had changed. “I’m coming, Dad,” she shouted, leaving her room to face the music. “What can I get you?”

  “Toast,” he replied, before casting a glance in her direction. He scowled. “You look like shit.”

  Big surprise. “It’s nothing. You want strawberry jam on that?”

  With his toast made, she grabbed some for herself and stuck a packet of Oreos up her sweatshirt. She’d stocked the cupboards pretty well with the overtime she’d received, last week. Her dad wouldn’t miss them. For a moment, she considered taking more—payday wasn’t for a couple of days, and if she ended up roughing it on the streets, she’d need something to stave off the hunger pangs—but then discounted it. The longer it took the cupboards to empty, the longer it would be before he left the house and she risked him coming to the store.

  Passing her father without catching his eye, she went to open the closet by the front door and tried to locate the holdall she knew lay in its depths somewhere.

  “What the fuck are you doing in there?” he asked irritably.

  “I’ve got to return some stuff to college, and I need a bigger bag,” she said.

  Her lie silenced him, as she pushed the rail of coats to the side and stopped dead. Her eyes locked onto the baseball bat propped in the corner. Dark splatters and smears decorated the tip, and with the evidence staring her in the face, she felt sick. An image of Kendrick crumpling to the ground under its full force almost made her toast reappear all over the discarded shoes.

  Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she pulled the holdall from its hiding spot, rushed to her room, and stuffed everything of importance to her inside it. Then, without a backward glance, she left behind the only home she’d ever known.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kendrick

  Kendrick threw his spanner into the toolbox. “All done, mate. What’s next?”

  “I reckon it’s time you tested out that new licence of yours. Go grab us a couple of burgers for lunch,” Liam said, tossing Kendrick the keys to his Honda.

  “Seriously, dude? I only passed the test this morning. You trust me with the mean machine?”

  “Fuck it up and you’ll be working gratis for me, for the rest of your pathetic life.”

  Kendrick laughed. “Dream on. Plain or cheese?”

  “Cheese. Grab some cash from the tin, and hurry up. I’m fucking starving.”

  “All right. All right. Fucking slave driver.”

  A short while later, as Kendrick waited for the usual You want fries with that?, his eyes drifted to the table where he’d sat with Molly, the previous evening. He removed his phone from his pocket and stared at the number he’d saved under Lavender. Should he call? Would she be on her lunch yet, or still in class?

  Agreeing to keep it casual was going to drive him nuts. It was like having a permanent boner with no chance of release. He’d never been platonic friends with a girl before, and he had no idea what the protocol was. He wante
d to speak to her so fucking badly, but making contact too soon would brand him a desperate douchebag. How long was he supposed to wait? A day? Two days? A week? If there were rules to this kind of thing, God had forgotten to include them in his Manual for Life. Maybe later he could volunteer to get some groceries for Paps. The old man would probably have a heart attack; it wasn’t as if he offered his services every day, but at least he’d cadge an excuse to visit Molly at the store.

  He was almost back at the garage when he saw her. A tragic figure loaded down with a large bag so weighty it bent her back. He pulled up at the kerb and wound down the window. “Hey, Molly!” It took her a second to notice him, but she turned away quickly. “What are you up to? That bag looks heavy enough to be a corpse.”

  “It’s my stuff,” she called back.

  “Your stuff? What stuff?”

  “Everything I own.”

  “Shit, Moll. Where are you going?”

  Continuing to walk, she said, “I don’t know. I thought I’d try to find a cheap hotel until I can get down to the council.”

  Why wouldn’t she look at him? “Fuck that. Get in.”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Flinging open the door, he ran up behind her and lifted the bag from her shoulder. “It wasn’t a request.” He threw her belongings onto the back seat of the Honda. “Get in,” he said, holding his breath as he waited for her to comply.

  Finally, her shoulders dropped, and she headed for the passenger door. Kendrick got back into the driver’s seat and turned to her. With her elbow bent and her hand shielding her face, she stared out of the side window.

  “Look at me, Molly.”

  She shook her head, and her body trembled. What the fuck was going on?

  “Molly?”

  Her hand dropped and slowly she turned to face him.

  “Ah, Christ, Moll.” His hand slammed against the steering wheel. “Did your dad do that?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m gonna slay him. I’m taking you to my place, and then I’m going to give that lowlife piece of scum a taste of his own medicine.”

  “No. Don’t. Please. He’ll kill you, next time.”

  “Next time?”