by Anna Scott
Backing up, I pulled the phone from my back pocket and walked on silent feet toward the other side of the house. I quickly made the call so that an ambulance and police assistance would be on the way, disconnected and walked back into where my father stood looming over my sister. My mom was laying on the floor, battered, but awake. My sister sat on a wooden kitchen chair in the center of the room.
When I cocked the pistol I had grabbed from the small, hidden compartment in the entryway table, my dad froze and spun around. I didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, but when I caught the look of relief wash over my sister’s face, a sense of utter guilt filled me. I knew my dad must have been at this a while. Natalie was in her pajamas, but she looked wide awake. I had no idea what had caused Dad to pull her down here, to make her sit in the uncomfortable chair in the middle of the room for who knew how long, but there was something seriously wrong.
Obviously, he had hit her – a lot – and mom too. Both of them had fat lips, and various swollen bruises and eyes, cuts and probably plenty more. At that moment, looking down the barrel of a loaded gun aimed at the heart of my father, a man I’d once idolized, I had to wonder how long this had been going on and why I hadn’t seen it. Why hadn’t I stopped it?
It would have been so easy to take him out, to pull that trigger, but I would wait, I would find a way. I could force myself to wait for the police. Thankfully I had already called them.
“Mom, are you okay?” I asked, not taking my narrowed eyes off my father’s shocked ones.
He straightened, but still had a look of smugness and superiority on his face. Did he think I was bluffing? I wasn’t some helpless little boy, even if I hadn’t been holding the gun, I could have overpowered him. I was taller, stronger and younger than him.
“Yes, honey,” she replied hesitantly.
“Nat, you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Her voice was quiet, hesitant and scared as hell. She had been quiet for a while, if I’d taken the time to think about it, I’d realize that she’d been getting progressively quieter over the past couple of years since she'd become a teenager.
“How long has this bullshit been going on?” I asked the room at large, not sure I was going to be able to handle the truth.
“Son,” my father warned.
“Shut the fuck up!” I shouted at him, wanting to pull the trigger so bad. Instead, I kept myself together and lowered it. “Go, stand over there and put your hands on the back of the couch so I can see them,” I commanded him. He glared at me but complied when I raised an eyebrow and nodded that way.
“Mom, how long has this been going on?” I asked, putting as much compassion into my voice as I could.
“Trent, honey, let’s talk about this later, okay?”
My lips tightened. I was frustrated. I wanted to know what had happened, and when it all started, wanted to know just what the prick had done. I knew that none of us were ready for any of that. I did my best not to take in the rip on the side of my sister’s pajama shorts, I didn’t know, but I doubted that the tear had been there before. I didn’t want to think about what that meant.
I felt my blood begin to boil again if he’d put a hand on her like that I didn’t think I’d be able to stop myself from killing him.
“Nat, can you walk?” I asked, not taking my eyes off my father.
“Um, yeah, why?”
“You and mom go wait in the front room, the police will be here soon.”
“What the fuck have you done?” My father shouted, his face turning red as he realized that he was fucked. This shit was over, for good.
“You bitches better keep your fucking lying mouths shut – you hear me?” He shouted as my mom and sister shuffled out of the room.
“You need to shut up now, Dad,” I said the last with so much venom and sarcasm, I saw him flinch. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it, that I ignored the man he was.
We stood, staring at each other, waiting for the other to make a move, neither of us did until the knock came at the door.
“Mom, make sure it’s either the police or the paramedics, then let them in,” I called. I had always been the one to take charge in difficult situations, though this one was about as extreme as I’d ever experienced.
My father began to move, like he was going to run, “don’t you fucking move, asshole.” I snarled at him, having set the pistol down near me, I leaned toward him, ready to grab him and hold him if I had to.
“Stop this nonsense, Trent. You are overreacting. You’re just upset, hear me out, you’ll understand.” He pleaded like it was reasonable for him to hit my mom or my sister.
“You’re a pompous bully, and that’s it. I’ve hated you for a long time, I've known what kind of man you really are, and I can’t stand the sight of you.” I told him, watching his skin pale under my harsh words.
My father was arrested that night, and after months of him pleading innocent, police investigations, and court proceedings, he went to prison and was out of our lives. Unfortunately, during all that, I discovered just how much I’d failed my mom and my sister, he’d been hurting them both for a lot longer than I realized and in ways I couldn’t have ever imagined.
I had a feeling as the years passed that the there was more about Natalie that I didn't yet know. Father had been careful not to leave marks previously, but apparently, that night, he’d lost his mind and his control when my sister had stood up to him.
The regret washed over me, as I walked up to Mom’s house and met one of the officers who was walking toward me. “Carter, right?” I asked the young deputy I’d met only once or twice.
Nodding, his head in acknowledgment, we shook hands, and he led me to the back of the house, where the door had been kicked in.
“I understand that you’ve made contact with your mother, is that correct?” He asked.
“No, I talked to my sister and found out that Mom is taking care of an elderly family friend tonight. She hasn’t answered her phone, so I assume she’s asleep,” I explained as my good friend Justin walked up, then Gavin rounded the corner.
“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” I asked, a fair amount of worry and speculation in my voice.
Gavin’s face was serious when he slapped my back and moved toward me. “The commander called us in, just in case. There isn’t anything to worry about, we haven’t seen anything aside from the door.”
With a relieved breath, I started to look at the area around me, searching for that elusive hint, that thing that would tell the story. There was almost always something, and if I were quiet, if I could focus and look closely enough, I’d see it.
After the night my blinders finally came off, and I saw the truth around me. The ensuing months learned just what I had missed. After that hard hitting lesson and lifetime full of guilt, I trained myself never to miss anything again. Unfortunately, I’d failed many times over the years, but I still tried every day.
Standing on the sidewalk, leading into the back yard, I examined the gate. It was always locked with a padlock that I’d personally bought and put on. Now, it was standing open, no lock. Looking around, I searched the ground for it, cut and lying in the gravel or on the flowers, with no luck. I asked Carter about it since he and Mackenzie were the first on the scene. He confirmed that it was standing open, just as it was now, and that they hadn’t touched it. I asked Justin to print it for me since I knew he would do it correctly.
I was sure that Carter and Mackenzie were good officers, but they were both green, there was no way I’d risk the information I needed to keep my own mother safe, to them. The area was generally safe, though I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that anywhere was absolutely secure. Usually, if a house were selected at random, it would be the one with the least amount of resistance and the least risk of detection.
Mom’s house had motion detector lights, a pretty decent alarm system and secure gates to the back yard. There wasn’t an easy point of entry to her house, as I’d replaced all the deadbolts
with better ones and there wasn’t any good cover near the house.
Walking through, Gavin stayed near me, knowing the way I did things. He scanned too, pointing out obvious oddities. There were a few broken branches on a nearby tree, an area of trampled grass next to the back patio and obviously, the kicked-in back door.
I called my sister back, assured her that Mom wasn’t at the house and told her what I’d found. I asked for the address for Mrs. Madison. Heading over there, I knew I needed to pick Mom up so that she could confirm that nothing was missing or displaced, but hated waking her in the middle of the night.
Thankfully, Mrs. Madison was all right to stay alone for a while, so mom followed me back to her house. After looking around, she didn’t notice anything, until we’d made it into her office.
On top of her desk was an open file folder. I had seen it but didn’t pay any attention to it, since I had no idea what Mom would have had out before leaving the house. The file contained a copy of grampa's will, including the trust fund information for Nat and for me.
Since my dad hadn’t ever owned the family company, when he went to prison, the board elected a new CEO, and the board continued to manage Harper Oil to this day. Mom now had a seat on that board, as the sole heir, she was the owner of course, but didn't work in the office daily.
Even when my father had gotten out, and tried to get back into the business, he hadn’t been able to. On paper, everything had always stayed in trust, for Mom, Nat and me. Dad had earned his salary, but that was all. He did make a lot of money and though he’d squandered a lot of it, he’d never been able to get his hands on Mom’s money. Though he'd worked for Harper Oil as CEO, he'd never been in control of the ownership, no matter how much he'd longed for that power.
Nat and I both received the first part of our trust funds at eighteen, another portion at twenty-five and the rest would be doled out at thirty. I was determined to join the Marine Corps after graduation, something I’d never regretted. So the money I received was invested and stayed in the bank. When I got the money at twenty-five, I bought my truck and my condo but hadn’t done anything else with it.
With my birthday fast approaching, I knew the last chunk would be released to me, though, I had no plans to do much with it, either.
At some point, I’d like to buy a house for Amber and me to live in. It wouldn’t be ridiculous like the mansion where I’d been raised. I’d hated that house, it was all show and not much else. I wanted a real family home, even if we didn’t have a family to fill it.
Of course, my father would know when my trust was to be released and just like he did when I turned twenty-five, he would probably come knocking again, trying to give me his sob story, so I’d help him out. Of course, his idea of me helping him out last time was two-hundred-thousand. Since the release of the rest of my trust would be much larger, I imagined that he’d try for more this time.
I had no way to prove it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him behind all this. Mom apparently thought the same, I could see the regret on her face when she looked down at the file in frustration.
Gavin started to look for fingerprints on and around the desk, on the drawer she kept it all in, as well as the hidden key hooks where she kept the keys to the file drawers. Unfortunately, my father was a complete asshole, but he wasn’t a moron. He wouldn’t leave prints. We’d be lucky if we found a hair
The only bright spot in all this crap was that after all he had done to Nat, my father hadn’t gone to her with his sob story, looking for a handout, which would have been a step too far – even for him. She didn’t need to see him again, not ever. I’d do just about anything I could to make sure she didn’t have to.
Hugging my mom, I felt the tension in her rigid posture, before she headed back to Mrs. Madison’s house. I thanked the officers on scene, whom I knew had spent a lot more time on this than necessary, because it was my mother. Finally, I headed back to Amber.
I thought a lot about my father on the drive home, and how much he’d fucked up his life. He had it all, money, a sweet, loving wife, a family. Everything and he’d fucked it all away.
Recalling all I missed ate at me when I allowed it to, I hated thinking about it, how much my mom and sister went through right under my fucking nose. I knew that neither of them blamed me in any way, they appreciated that I helped them to get away from him. They believed that I saved them that night. I failed so many times in my life, when all I wanted was to help, to protect, I fell short again and again.
Pulling up in front of Amber’s house, I left both hands resting on top of the steering wheel and lowered my head to rest on my arms. Closing my eyes, I thought about Amber, about what we already had been through together and hoped fervently, that things would go better for us this time around.
I couldn’t imagine one single thing that I wouldn’t do for Amber, and prayed it would be enough. I knew on some level that she had left me, had shut me out, because of some stupid need to protect me, to shield me from a life with her. She thought that my desire for a dream was bigger than my love for her – she was dead wrong.
Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I walked up to the house, noticing that there were lights on. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was after five, I hoped that Amber hadn’t stayed up all night, she had a long day or work ahead of her. I was fortunate enough to have a little flexibility when I needed it, and that morning, I would need it. She didn’t have that luxury.
As I crept inside, I saw her beautiful long hair trailing over the arm of the couch. She was curled up there, obviously trying to wait up for me. My bad little girl. Rounding the sofa, I looked down at her sleeping form. She was curled up, a soft pink afghan draped over her, covering the left side of her body. Her right leg had snuck out of the covers, as she had a habit of doing, teasing me with the vision of her slender leg, only covered by the fluffy lace-topped socks that came up just past her knee. Pink lace panties peeked out below an old ratty tee. The shirt was thin, threadbare and way too big for her.
On closer inspection, I saw the insignia on the front and realized she was in my old Indian Motorcycle shirt. I had that thing since high school, it didn’t fit me anymore, and she’d confiscated it one night, months ago when she found it in my condo. I had no idea she had kept it this long, but I loved the sight of her in it.
Looking at her like this, I could see the innocence that surrounded her. Amber was a complex woman, hiding an incredibly vulnerable soft center under her layers of brashness and frivolity. I was one of the only people she’d ever exposed that part of herself to, and as I bent and gently lifted her into my arms, I vowed to myself that I’d always make it safe for her to share that part of herself with me.
“Hey,” she mumbled as she rolled into me once I’d slid into the bed next to her.
“Hey, sweetness,” I replied exhaustedly.
“Your mom okay?”
I explained what had happened, with the fewest details possible, leaving out the issues regarding my father. She knew my dad had been in prison for hurting my mom and sister, she knew we weren’t close, but not all the gory details. I wasn’t purposely keeping that from her, I just didn’t have it in me to tell her right then.
Once I was finished, she ran her hand up and down my chest, comforting me, soothing my nerves, and before I knew it, she had moved up, over me and was kissing me.
Moving her lips to my ear, she whispered, “Let me suck you to sleep.”
I let out a guttural groan but didn’t think I accomplished any actual words. As she kissed down my bare chest, slipping under the blankets, I felt my old tee riding up her stomach and her bare skin brushing against me. She was the sexiest woman alive.
Small, sure fingers wrapped around the waistband of my boxer-briefs and tugged them down. I lifted my hips so she could ease them down. I was just trying to help her out, after all, I was a gentleman.
Without further playfulness, she inhaled my cock. No teasing, no work up, she held my dick in her hand and f
ingered the metal balls piercing the glans. I felt her tongue peek out and lick over the head, giving her the lubrication she needed, and she sucked it all the way down without delay.
Swear to God, Amber gave the best blow jobs of any other woman – ever. She could probably win fucking awards with her technique. She got her lips wet, sucked in the head, licked the piercing and held her lips tight all the way down, sucking in like a vacuum. Once she got down as far as she could, without swallowing me into her throat – which she’d actually done a couple of times – she would bob on me, then push back up. At the top, she’d lick around the head, lick the metal and the sensitive skin around it bob some more and start all over. That was great, obviously, but what got even better, were her hands.
While her mouth worked, she got one hand going, pumping me in time with her lips. The other hand would slowly, but firmly fondle my nuts. She rolled them, caressed them with her fingertips and on occasion, she pulled her mouth off the head, licked down the shaft and sucked my balls too. She was a fucking head-genius.
Looking back, I didn’t know the exact moment I fell in love with her, but it might have been during that first blow job. If I let go, she could have me cumming in a minute or two, but I liked it too much to go that fast. I didn't wait too long, though, I wasn’t an asshole. No woman wanted to suck your dick for an hour. I had a buddy tell me he had done that once. I felt bad for the girl. Unfortunately for him, it had been his wife, who wasn’t his wife anymore. She wised up, I thought uncharitably. I had no way of knowing, but he didn’t seem like the type to return the favor, or if he did, he wouldn’t put much work into it.
No, I didn’t keep score. I didn’t figure out how many minutes Amber sucked me, or was on top and then make sure to hit the same on her. I always - always made sure she came more times than I did – always. There was no excuse for lackluster effort, especially with how easily women came. If a woman was still too stuck in her own head to let go, you knew you weren’t doing something right.
