Bleed Through

by Arrington, Adriana

  She left the soup to simmer and scoured the junk cabinet above the washing machine. A sliver of hair escaped from her ponytail and fell onto her cheek as her hand closed over the handle of a screwdriver. She strode out of the kitchen and opened the front door. The screwdriver clinked against the brass lock as she applied all of her weight to it, and she rocked the tool back and forth, hoping it’d be enough to break the lock.

  The springs on the couch creaked as Liam rose and ambled over to the door. Like a discerning foreman, he watched her work. RP leaned against his legs and meowed for attention. Even though the door stayed wide open, the cat didn’t make a run for it.

  Liam nodded in approval. “Good job, Mom.”

  Her hands froze. She ignored her sixth sense shouting at her to stop and instead took a break. Salt stung her eyes as she leaned against the doorway and rubbed her sweaty face on her shirt. Florida weather in early September rivaled the hottest day of July in most other places. Not that Isaac would ever get stationed to one of those magical locations that didn’t feel like the equator. They used to kid their next station would be hell.

  Neither of them told that joke anymore.

  She shooed Liam back inside the house and closed the door. It shut but then swung back open. The door could no longer close. Perfect. Maintenance would have to fix it today.

  She repeated the process on both the kitchen and back doors. Angry, red blisters formed on her thumbs from wielding the screwdriver.

  Liam inspected each lock and surveyed whether he deemed the damage severe enough. His eyes met hers in acknowledgment, and he grinned. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You’re welcome.” She didn’t ask why the Channers threatened him. For reasons known only to him, he’d long held an obsession with them. She’d already gone too far in enabling his ideas.

  The phone call to maintenance got a little hairy, but she didn’t hang up until she’d convinced them she needed new locks tonight. Afterward, she and Liam ate at the dining room table. She tried to ignore Tasha’s and Isaac’s painfully empty seats.

  “Got any upcoming sales?” he asked.

  An innocent enough question on the surface, it still scratched at her bottled-up resentment. She’d lost the big sale on Hugh Drive. The couple had wanted to take the weekend to decide on the purchase. By that Monday, Tasha was in the hospital for observation and Liam was in a psychiatric ward. Fully occupied by her children’s issues, she’d handed the sale back to Lexi.

  “Since I went to Georgia with Tasha, I haven’t worked much,” she said.

  “How long will Tasha stay in Georgia?” he asked. “I miss her.”

  Separated from her daughter for less than a day, Allison already did too.

  “She might stay there until Christmas. Grammy doesn’t get to see her very often and talked me into it.”

  Liam’s spoon tinkled against his soup bowl. He knew her well enough to know she lied. Tasha wasn’t here because he was.

  “She’s gonna be spoiled rotten when she gets home. Grammy used to give me whatever I liked.” He looked off into space, probably lost in the memories of his youth.

  Years had passed since he’d even seen his grandmother. Terrified of her own grandson, she’d campaigned long and hard to keep Allison from returning and living alone with him. It’d been difficult to argue with her. Liam behaved unpredictably. He hadn’t intentionally hurt Tasha, but he still had. If Isaac hadn’t followed his instincts and run to the beach, Tasha would be dead.

  At some point, Allison would have to figure out a long-term solution to their living arrangements. Tasha and Liam would never live together again. She didn’t intend to miss out on Tasha’s childhood, nor did she intend to abandon Liam for a second time. How she’d accomplish both goals was a question for another day.

  “What about Isaac? When does he come home?” Liam asked.

  “Depends. He may return if and when Family Advocacy deems him innocent and closes his case.” She yearned to say, “We don’t have to stay here if he returns. We can live wherever you like. If you’re not comfortable, then I’m not either. You and Tasha are my main concern.” But she wouldn’t give Liam false hope. Tasha needed protection from him. And although Allison now doubted Isaac’s judgment when it came to Liam, she needed his help dealing with her son.

  She stared out the back window. The sight of the ocean glittering in the distance made her nauseous.

  Liam said, “Isaac’s a decent man. He’ll be cleared. Anyway, I’m going to get healthy and move out on my own soon enough. Then I can stop ruining your marriages.”

  “You don’t ‘ruin my marriages.’ I’m more than capable of doing that on my own.”

  He dropped his spoon. It sunk to the bottom of his bowl. “You know what I’m saying is true. You and Dad would’ve never divorced if I hadn’t developed schizophrenia. He never stopped loving you. Had pictures of you all over the place.”

  Her breath caught. Though they’d divorced years before he died, Sean’s passing had hit her hard. The two had been high school sweethearts, marrying after graduation when Allison found out she was pregnant with Liam. Love had filled their first fifteen years together.

  “Your schizophrenia didn’t cause our breakup. It exposed rifts already there. Even if you had never developed it, something else would’ve sniffed out our issues.” Probably, anyway. There were few stressors in life as severe as watching your child descend into mental illness.

  “Here’s the thing, Mom. Isaac loves you as much as Dad did. He married you, all the while knowing I’ll always be a part of your life. Against his better judgment, he allows me to live with you and Tasha, the people he adores most on this planet. And he does all of this because he wants you to be happy.” Liam ran his fingers along the grain of the oak table. “Take it from me, happiness is elusive. Don’t let me steal yours.”

  She reached a trembling hand out to hold his. They’d never had a conversation so honest before. So adult. “You don’t steal my happiness.”

  The doorbell rang.

  He shrank back. “Maintenance is here.” He crossed his arms.

  In the span of a heartbeat, her son left again. For a few bright, shining moments they’d connected. This small taste of a real relationship with her son made the absence of it all the more tangible. She stifled a sob.

  She battled to keep her emotions in check and answered the door. A maintenance man squatted in front of it, inspecting the lock until Allison swung the door away from him.

  “What happened? Looks like somebody tried to break in. They did a real number,” he said.

  “My adult son came for a visit and didn’t have a key. He’s seen one too many YouTube videos on how to pick a lock.”

  The technician eyed her. “All three locks look this way?”

  “Pretty much. My son is thorough.”

  His gaze traveled to her red and blistered hands. She stuffed them in her pockets.

  “You don’t want to tell me why this really happened?” he asked.

  “Though I wish I had a more interesting story, that’s the truth.” She put on her best lying smile and held her breath.

  “If you say so,” the man muttered. He grabbed his baseball cap and pulled it down. While he’d certainly heard tall tales before, she doubted he could guess the peculiar truth of her life.

  The whisper of footprints turned her head. Liam skulked past her and retreated to his room. He closed his door with an assertive thud.

  She rubbed her eyes. This morning, Liam had called to inform her he wanted to leave the clinic. An hour after getting off the phone with him, she’d driven down from Georgia and picked him up. Now, she longed for twelve consecutive hours of sleep.

  As she watched the maintenance man install the new lock, black metal that absorbed the porch light instead of reflecting it like the old brass one, she felt a stab of loneliness. No matter how much sleep called to her like a jealous lover, her cold, empty bed didn’t tempt her. She’d sleep on the couch tonight.

&
nbsp; THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18th

  iam brushed his fingers over his phone. Over the past two days, he’d spent hours reading and rereading texts Mai had sent him while he was in the hospital. They’d started off flirtatious― “Miss you,” turned concerned― “Are you okay? Send me a text. Please!” and then veered into anger― “I deserve to know you’re alive.”

  He hadn’t responded yet. What could he say? “Sorry, got caught up in a psychotic break! LOL.”

  Besides, he didn’t trust the texts. Maybe he yearned for Mai to be real so badly his mind conjured them up. For now, he’d allow the texts to comfort him, angry missives and all. He’d decide later if they were real.

  With a long sigh, he stuffed his phone into his pocket. Across the oak dining room table sat Camila Alvarez, his Family Advocacy caseworker. Attractive and young, he pegged her age closer to his than Isaac’s. She maintained a meticulous appearance, from finely manicured nails to a perfectly fitted skirt suit to shiny, short hair tucked behind her ears. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she had it all together.

  Except he did know better. Camila was a special case.

  Ever since she’d stepped foot through the front door, a trail of white images had followed her. She didn’t carry one burden. She carried dozens. They crowded the room. Babies, toddlers, children. Teenagers with haunted expressions and women with blackened eyes. Camila and her entourage downright depressed him.

  “Are you ready for our discussion?” she asked.

  The high-backed wooden chair pressed against his back. He nodded.

  Joshua sat in the chair next to Camila and leaned toward her, black leather jacket crinkling with the movement. “This is the woman who will decide Isaac’s entire future? She determines whether or not he’s a respectable man?” He placed his nose next to her neck and sniffed. “Smells delectable. That’s a good sign. She might be the one to help free us from your stepdad.”

  She took out her phone, opened up an app, and hit record. “I’m going to tape our conversation,” she said.

  Joshua hovered mere inches from Camila’s face, staring at her.

  “Swell.” Liam tried to ignore the nervous butterflies in his stomach.

  “The staff at the Rose Smith Clinic notified the authorities that you checked in two weeks ago with bondage marks and several contusions to your head. I understand this may be painful, but can you tell me how you acquired those wounds?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You certainly carry the weight of the world around with you.”

  “Excuse me?” She lifted her eyebrows.

  “I’m guessing you don’t leave your work at the office.”

  “I’m here to discuss you, Mr. Murphy. My life is irrelevant.” Her demeanor was cool yet professional.

  Joshua sat back in his chair and withdrew a pack of Marlboros from his pocket. He tapped out a cigarette. “You’re making her uncomfortable, jackass. Quit it.”

  “Forgive me.” Liam flashed Camila a bright smile. “I distract easily. Where were we?”

  “Your wounds, Mr. Murphy. How did you receive them?”

  “I did them to myself. I know you’re here to pin this on Isaac, but it’s not his fault. I can be difficult to live with.”

  She stiffened. “Being difficult to live with doesn’t make it okay to hurt you.”

  “I didn’t say it did. But Isaac’s doing the best he can. And his best is pretty darn good.” Liam’s eyes unwillingly wandered to where his mother sat in the living room. Her shoulders hunched upward like they always did when she felt stressed.

  A cloud of smoke surrounded Joshua as he pulled on his cigarette. “This isn’t what we agreed upon. You’re supposed to make the caseworker hate Isaac.”

  “Sometimes, a person’s best isn’t enough,” Camila said.

  “Seems like you know that better than most.” Liam leaned forward and placed his hands on the table.

  She jerked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “The multitudes of people you feel you’ve failed. You could pack a room with them.”

  She shifted in her chair.

  He tugged on his five o’clock shadow. One of the visions glowed brighter than the rest, so he pressed his advantage and took a chance. “One case, in particular, haunts you. A teen with a penchant for nose rings and gothic makeup. Ring any bells?”

  Joshua hit pause on her phone. “You stupid prick. You’re making us look crazy. Behave and stick to the plan. Or you’ll regret it.”

  “How do you know about that?” Camila whispered. Her lower lip trembled.

  Liam wanted to stop, to avoid making her relive a terrible memory. But the time for mercy had come and gone. “Her father beat her to death, didn’t he?”

  The case worker’s mouth dropped open in horror.

  “Did you drag your feet on her case? Or not understand the severity of her abuse?” The overwhelming sorrow flooding her face proved he’d hit the bullseye of her guilt.

  She opened her mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “This isn’t funny. Where are you getting your information?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve got special abilities that allow me a window into people’s souls. As far as superhero powers go, though, it’s a crappy one.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Story of my life.” He shrugged.

  Joshua jumped out of his seat and paced between the table and windows. “You’re not gonna get a better chance than this, Liam. Don’t waste it. Let’s get rid of Isaac for keeps.”

  The look on Camila’s face teetered between dismay and wariness. She fiddled with one of her earrings and looked at her phone. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the recording app paused. Lips pinched tight, she hit play again. She squared her shoulders and sat up straight. “Let’s stay on track, Mr. Murphy. Are you denying Colonel Northman gave you the aforementioned wounds?”

  “Yes. Except for the one head injury. He knocked me out the night before admitting me to the hospital.”

  Her eyes popped wide.

  Joshua raised his elbows and placed his hands behind his head. “Finally. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “What? Colonel Northman hit you?”

  “Only after I endangered his wife. He made a snap decision, but one I would’ve made as well in his place.”

  The squinting of her eyes led Liam to believe he shouldn’t have placed Isaac’s decision-making prowess in the same ballpark as his.

  “Do you feel safe at home?” she continued.

  Of course not.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She tapped the dining room table. “Covering up abuse is dangerous, Mr. Murphy. Take it from the girl with the nose rings.”

  “You’ve undoubtedly interviewed my stepfather?” He sucked in his upper lip.

  She didn’t answer.

  RP’s plaintive meow echoed through the walls. As part of his prep work, Liam had locked him in the bathroom.

  “Then you know he’s an honorable man. He’s in a tough position but doesn’t deserve to suffer because I’ve got issues. Heck, in law school, all kinds of important people lauded Isaac for his efforts toward granting those of us living with mental illness the same civil rights the rest of you enjoy.”

  “I’m aware of his reputation.” Her mouth twitched.

  It all clicked into place then.

  “Ahh, so you know Isaac. You’ve worked on cases together, am I correct?”

  Her shoulders slumped.

  “If you knew Isaac previously, then I’m guessing you held him up on a pedestal of sorts? I wouldn’t blame you. Most people do. Isaac is the very definition of bleeding-heart goodness. He believes all people should be given the same opportunities. Or believed, at any rate.”

  He took a steadying breath. “Life gets complicated when ideals and reality intersect. How can I blame Isaac for not responding appropriately to a difficult situation when sometimes I don’t either? I can’t expect Isaac to have patience with me if I don’t extend i
t to him.”

  “Isaac’s the problem, not you!” screamed Joshua. He jabbed an angry finger on Camila’s phone and paused the recorder once again. “If you won’t help yourself, I will.”

  Her starched dress shirt creased as she crossed her arms. “Isaac never should’ve hit you.”

  “You’re right. He shouldn’t have. He made a bad decision. But believe me, I’m sure Isaac is harder on himself for this mistake than you or I could ever be. So cut the man some slack, and let him be human. He can’t be Captain America all the time. Maybe there’s one percent of him that’s like the rest of us. We’ve all got some evil in our souls. Isaac, however, has much less than most of us. Wish I could say the same about myself.”

  She massaged her temple with her right hand. The images behind her intensified and brightened. The teen with nose rings became as vivid as life, tempting him to reach out a hand and tug on the piercings.

  “The bondage marks?” she asked. She closed her eyes.

  “I tied myself up, afraid of what I’d do when my family returned. I didn’t trust my own actions.” He didn’t mention Isaac reapplying them before they left for Tallahassee.

  She ran her hand over her hair and opened her eyes. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion when she checked her phone and found the app paused once again. With a leery expression, she pressed record.

  “You admitted Isaac allowed you to injure yourself. Did he object in any matter?”

  “I can be persuasive when I want. Tell me, what would you do in his position?”

  Joshua hit the pause button, reached across the table, and slapped him. The force of his blow whipped Liam’s face to the side.

  Startled, Camila reflexively jumped away from him.

  A mighty hiss emanated from the bathroom. The door banged against its frame as RP hurled his weight against it.

  Allison stood. “Excuse me for the interruption. It seems our cat is trapped and unhappy.” She hurried out of the room and toward the bathroom.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Murphy?” Camila asked, concern evident in her tone.