by Lane Hart
“Please stop! I need you here with me, not in jail!”
I need you.
Even though I’m nowhere close to beating the asshole as much as he deserves, with a Herculean effort, I force myself to stop, for her, not him.
As soon as I stand up and face her, though, the sickening truth is staring right back at me in her sad, icy blue eyes, so fucking heartbreaking that it brings me to my knees at the foot of the bed. It’s then that her words from the first day I showed up here replay in my mind, and I’m certain they will haunt me for the rest of my life.
“You-you were our older brother! If you had been around…We needed you!”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, falling forward and burying my face in the same bedding where I selfishly took everything she offered even though I failed her. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I sob into the linens, too ashamed of myself to even look at her.
She needed me, and I ran. Not a word from me in years while the whole time she was probably putting up with this shit from my father.
Mina’s mother starts yelling something in the background, and then everything is happening at once. Paramedics rush in first, moving me out of the way to load the asshole on a gurney and take him away. My hands are tugged behind my back, handcuffs locked around my wrists before I’m yanked to my feet and walked down the stairs.
I welcome the arrest that takes me out of that fucking room, out of the house where Mina’s suffered through God only knows what. There’s no way I can think of facing her again now that I know the truth. She needed me to keep her safe, and I let her down. This horror she’s suffered is all on me.
The ride to the police station in the back of the cruiser is a blur as my mind races. I’m not sure I can handle knowing the details of the hell Mina’s been through. As it is, the guilt is unbearable for just this one single fucking time.
I was too late.
If I hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have had the chance to touch her tonight. That’s what she wanted me to stay for, not because she loved me or even liked fucking me. She needed me to keep her safe, and I’ll never forgive myself for letting her down.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mina
“Oh my God! What have you done? What have you done?”
My mother is hungover and hysterical, running around the house like a maniac after the paramedics took Mike away in the ambulance and Patrick was arrested by the police officers.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I say quietly to Michael, hugging him to me to keep his face turned away from our erratic mother. He heard the commotion and came into my room to investigate, but he has no idea what’s going on. I sure as hell can’t ever tell him that his brother walked in on his father fucking me and beat the shit out of him.
“Is Daddy gonna die?” my little brother looks up at me with watery eyes and asks.
“No, the doctors will take care of him. Probably just some bruises, but they want to take him to the hospital to make sure,” I try to explain, rubbing his hair soothingly. Truthfully, I have no idea how bad off Mike is. All I know was that he was still unconscious when they left.
“You stupid whore! This is all your fault!” my mother screeches at me, causing my teeth to grind painfully against each other. She’s so fucking self-absorbed that she’s saying shit in front of Michael, who is upset enough as it is.
“Why don’t you go to the kitchen and get some water? I’ll be down in a minute,” I tell my little brother. After he nods in agreement, I ease him out the bedroom door and into the hallway so I can shut the door to drown out my mother’s harsh words.
“Look what you’ve done! You filthy slut –”
My palm slaps with a resounding smack against my mother’s face, interrupting her insults. And damn, I have to admit it feels good to finally do that. However little pain it was to her is nothing like I’ve experienced over the years.
“Don’t you say another word!” I warn her, pointing a finger in her face while she clutches her cheek. Her surprised face is unable to believe that her own daughter would hit her. “You can tell yourself whatever pathetic lies you want, but you better keep your mouth shut around your son!”
“You’ve ruined everything!” she says to me. “I only got knocked up by him while he was married so that you and your sister could have a better life!”
“Wow, congrats, mom. You’re the whore of the century,” I tell her. “And I can’t believe you would say that about Michael!”
“You have no idea the sacrifices I’ve made for you!” she exclaims.
“No, mom. I’m the only one here who’s made sacrifices! Where the hell were you when he took me to a hotel and raped me over and over again on my fifteenth birthday? Shopping? Getting drunk? Because I’m not stupid. I know you had to give permission for him to get me out of school!”
Her face pales, and she lowers her eyes. “He didn’t…he wouldn’t…”
“He did!” I shout at her. Turning around, I pull my shorts and panties down to show her the marks on my ass. “And he did this too while you were passed out down the fucking hall!”
“No,” she denies. “Patrick must have…your father came in here to stop him…”
Turning around, I quickly yank my bottoms up to squash that bullshit thought. “Patrick would never hurt me! He only gave that asshole exactly what he deserved.”
A loud knock raps on the bedroom door, interrupting the argument I’ve wanted to have with my mother for a long time now. The police officers are still lingering around and probably want to start asking me questions. Ones that I’m not sure I know how to answer.
My mother yanks open the door before I can, revealing a young, uniformed police officer with her brown hair pulled back in a chignon.
“My husband didn’t do anything wrong,” my mother assures the officer, even after everything I just told her.
“We didn’t say he did, ma’am,” the officer replies coolly with an arched eyebrow. “Were you in the room when the assault occurred?”
“Yes,” my mother answers at the same time I say, “No. I was the only one in here, and I’m the one who called 9-1-1.”
“Then we’ll need to speak to you first,” the officer says to me before placing a palm on the center of my mother’s chest to back her up. “Ma’am, wait downstairs with your son, and we’ll get your statement next.”
“Don’t believe anything she says! She’s a habitual liar and a slut, sleeping with her own stepbrother!” My mother proclaims before the officer forces her out of the room and shuts the door.
“Please have a seat,” she says when she turns back around to face me with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll try to get through this quickly.”
Nodding, I walk over and slump down on the edge of the bed, my entire, aching body shaking with anger at my mother, concern for Patrick, and disgust for his father.
“So tell me how this all started,” the officer begins. Wandering over, she reexamines the beige carpet at the foot of my bed stained with drops of blood. Pulling out a small notepad and pen, she holds the pen poised and ready to write as soon as I start talking.
Shit. Where do I start?
“How are the two men, Michael Thomas Foxx and Patrick Foxx, related?” she asks, reading from her notes to get things going when I hesitate.
“Patrick is Mike’s son and my stepbrother,” I explain. “He’s a former Marine and a really good guy. There was a, um, misunderstanding between the two, and Mike kept antagonizing Patrick until he hit him. Please don’t charge Patrick. Mike is gonna be fine, right?”
“Did Mr. Foxx ask his son to leave before the assault occurred?” she asks.
“Yes, but Patrick only stayed because he was worried about me,” I say, biting my cheek when too much of the truth starts to slip free. I wish I could tell her all the shit Mike’s done to me. But if he were to walk away scot-free, which is not unlikely since he has the money and connections to hire the best lawyers in the country, Bridgette would be the one to pay for my acc
usations. It’ll be my word against his. He’ll say I wanted it, and I’ll be deemed a liar and a whore since it’ll come out that I was sleeping with his son too. No one will understand why I didn’t report him sooner, back years ago when it first happened. My mother will, of course, deny me ever coming to her, and then she’ll take Mike’s side, deeming me the slut he’ll claim I am. There’s no way to win with all those odds stacked against me.
“Mr. Foxx asked his son to leave, and he refused?” the officer looks up at me and repeats.
Shit.
“Yes. But Patrick wanted to stay. He knew I was upset, having second thoughts about the wedding,” I reply. “I’m supposed to be getting married in a few hours.”
“Right, but your stepbrother was asked to leave and not only refused the request but attacked your stepfather, continuing to beat him until he was unconscious?” she asks, sounding appalled that a son could be so cruel to his father. God, she has no freaking clue the shit that man’s done.
“It all happened so fast,” I try to explain. “Patrick was really upset that his father was kicking him out after not speaking to him in eight years, not even a single letter while he was serving his country. Patrick temporarily lost his temper, that’s all.”
“Mmm,” the officer mutters while taking notes. “And is what your mother said true? You were sleeping with your stepbrother?”
“Yes,” I admit.
She continues to take more notes. When she’s finished , she slips the pad and pen into her uniform shirt pocket. “That’s it for now. We’ll check on Mr. Foxx’s condition and go from there.”
Dammit, that doesn’t sound good for Patrick. He shouldn’t be punished for anything. That’s just absurd. His father is the bad guy in this whole ordeal, but somehow I have a feeling all this shit is gonna get spun to make Patrick out to be the hotheaded asshole who hurt an innocent man.
After the officer leaves, the bedroom is silent and empty. I feel more lost than ever before.
All I know is that I have to get myself and Michael out of this house before they’re forced to arrest me for strangling my own mother.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mina
I drive Michael over to Sarah’s house where Bridgette’s staying the night. Sarah’s little brother Tyler is a year younger than Michael, so I know he’ll be able to play with him in the morning to take his mind off everything that’s going on. When a bleary-eyed Bridgette comes to the door and asks what happened, I simply tell her that Mike and Patrick were arguing over some historical shit and that I didn’t want Michael to overhear. Tomorrow, I’ll consider telling her more of what actually happened, that Patrick was arrested and Mike’s in the hospital, but there’s no reason to worry her in the middle of the night.
Once I’m back in my car, there’s only one place I know to go since I can’t go home --- Derek’s. I need to tell him the wedding is off. That’s what I should’ve said to him a week ago, but I was being selfish, wanting to use him as an escape.
Since it’s three a.m. and he’s likely asleep, he probably won’t hear me knock on his front door. I call his cell phone when I’m standing on the front porch to wake him up.
“‘Ello?” he answers on the third ring, still groggy from sleep.
“Hey, I’m here, out front. Can you let me in?” I ask.
“Shit. Right now?” he asks, sounding slightly annoyed.
“Yeah. It’s been a really bad night, and my mom’s going nuts. I had to get out of the house.”
“Okay. Hold…just hold on,” Derek says before disconnecting the call.
Thanks to my lack of sleep and zombie-like state, I belatedly remember after we hang up that I actually have a key to Derek’s house since this was supposed to be my home after tonight. He gave it to me two weeks ago, but I’ve never used it since he was always home when I came over. I use the light of my cell phone to find the right key on my keyring and slide it into the lock.
The house is dark as I step into the foyer, but just behind the balcony, I can see the light on in the master bedroom upstairs.
“Hurry up! You need to go out the back door and call someone to come pick you up,” I hear Derek saying.
Are you kidding me? He has a woman here right now?
I start up the steps, not even upset since I definitely haven’t been faithful to him, but I’m curious to see who’s sleeping over the night before what’s supposed to be our big day. What a fucking joke. I’m not sure what will happen, but I know for certain that there won’t be a wedding in a few hours.
Not even bothering to try and be stealthy, I barge into the master bedroom and…
“Holy shit!” I exclaim when I see the blonde woman frantically dressing while Derek, wearing only his boxers, gathers up a handful of condom wrappers. “Cassie? Seriously?” I ask.
They both freeze like deer in headlights, Cassie with just her bra and panties on, Derek holding a handful of foil. And in their frozen silence, I lose it.
The loudest laugh of my life explodes out of my mouth, causing me to have to grab onto the wall to stay upright when I double over. I giggle hysterically until tears run down my face, and then I sink to the floor, and my laughter turns to gut-wrenching sobs.
“Willow, I’m so sorry,” Derek says when he sits down next to me.
I shake my head since seeing him with my best friend didn’t bother me. It only filled me with relief, because I wasn’t looking forward to calling things off, hurting him. Obviously, that won’t be an issue. While it’s surprising that they’ve been seeing each other behind my back without me realizing it, it’s definitely not why I’m having a breakdown.
“Patrick got arrested,” I tell him between sniffles. “It-it wasn’t his fault.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Derek says, folding me in his arms.
“No, it’s not,” I sob against him, my tears soaking his bare shoulder. “My mom’s a bitch. I hate my stepfather. I can’t do this anymore.”
Everything comes pouring out, all of the pent up fear, hurt, sadness and anger. I’m not sure how long I cry, but it takes a while to get it all out.
“Here,” Cassie says. And when I glance up, she’s offering me a handful of tissues. Thankfully she also has more clothes on than she just had a few moments ago.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Do you hate me, too?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her honestly, mopping up my eyes and face. “This is good. The wedding definitely wasn’t gonna happen before I walked in.”
“Shit,” Derek mutters. “I’m so screwed. Sorry I lied to you, but it’s true. Your stepfather paid for this place, my car, and law school. If the wedding’s off, I don’t know what I’ll do…”
“Ugh. He’s so fucked up,” I tell him. “Why? Why would you agree to that?” I ask.
“Mike said he just wanted to make sure you were taken care of. That I could support you with a good job, and you could have nice things,” Derek explains, which only makes me feel like a spoiled bitch. While I’m certain Derek had his own selfish reasons to take what the asshole offered, I’m sure he did actually want what was best for me too. There was no way Derek could have known about the abuse.
“Mike’s in the hospital, pretty bad shape,” I tell him without the slightest sympathy.
“What happened?” Cassie asks from her seat on the edge of the bed.
“Patrick.”
“I thought you said he left! Are you and he still…” Derek asks.
“No,” I answer, and then reconsider. “Maybe. I don’t know. He left yesterday, or at least I thought he did. I guess he never left, or he came back. I really want to be with him, but after tonight, I doubt that will happen.”
“Why not?” Cassie asks.
“Long story,” I reply simply. “So what’s going on here? Are you two just fucking, or is it more?” I ask bluntly, looking between my best friend and my former fiancé.
“I swear we didn’t do more than kiss until the night Patrick was here an
d confirmed what I already thought,” Derek answers. “We agreed that it was gonna end tonight.”
“So, now it doesn’t have to,” I tell them. “It’s fine. Really.”
“Good, because I sort of love this dorky guy,” Cassie says, her watery eyes telling me she actually cares about him.
“I’m in love with her too,” Derek says, smiling up at Cassie like she’s the eggs to his ketchup.
“That’s great,” I tell them. “And I mean, if you want, there’s a wedding all planned for tomorrow…”
Pulling off the diamond solitaire engagement ring, I hold it between my finger and thumb, offering it back to Derek, who opens his palm for me to place it in the center.
“No hard feelings?” I ask. “It just wasn’t meant to be, and at least we both know that for certain now.”
“No hard feelings,” he agrees with a half-smile.
“Thanks for not freaking out and beating my ass,” Cassie says.
“No more ass beatings today,” I promise, which reminds me of the ache on my bottom and then what Patrick walked in and saw.
That was the worst moment of my life. He probably thinks I’m a huge slut who sleeps with everyone. He’ll never believe anything else, and I can’t tell him any of the details about the depravity that’s gone on for years. Ugh, and Mike is gonna be so angry when he gets out of the hospital. I’m gonna be the one who ends up paying the price.
As soon as the police let Patrick go, he’ll leave, and I’ll never hear from him again. Why would he give a second thought to the whore screwing him and his father? God, that’s depressing as fuck. My mother will probably never speak to me again, not that I really care. I’m just worried about Michael. Bridgette will head off to college, but our little brother is so young and caught in the middle. There’s no way I can just leave him with our alcoholic mother and abusive father. I doubt I’ll be able to figure out a solution tonight, though. The best thing I can do is to try and get some sleep to see if tomorrow will bring more clarity to this whole fucked-up situation.
