by A. C. Wilson
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” She took the lead rope from the peg and opened Liberty’s door. “A ride sounds nice.” So that’s exactly what they did. Bailey escaped the doubts and indecision weighing on her for that hour. She was merely flying on the back of the most beautiful horse in the world.
CHAPTER NINE
The small loft apartment was a godsend. It could have been a tent in the middle of the prairie and she would have thought it a castle compared to the habitual reign of terror her stepfather maintained. Bailey Campbell sighed as she brushed her long blonde hair now wet from her shower. She looked into the bathroom mirror directly into her soft brown eyes. Considering the woman in front of her, Bailey wasn’t sure what she saw outside of the weak, battle scarred creature starring back.
Her inquisitive perusal followed the soft curves of her face, the thick, dark lashes of her eyes and gentle bow of her lips. All in all she felt pretty. Beautiful wasn’t exactly an adjective she would willingly accept. Bailey thought she was fuller in places than guys liked women to be and she wasn’t gifted with a tall, thin frame.
Average.
Yes, she was an average woman and she was finally starting to be fine with it. Two months in this little apartment and some equine therapy gave her an edge to fight back.
If a warrior came to the fight with a plastic spoon.
Bailey set down her brush and shook her head.
“A dull, breakable weapon was better than no weapon at all, right?” She shrugged in answer to her own question. Leaving the bathroom, she smiled at the orange tuft of feline on the counter. Chomp was a rescue she was forced to adopt. Wide yellow eyes watched her warily as she crossed the kitchen and pulled out a small plate along with a can of cat food. Chomp plastered his belly to the counter and almost worm crawled his way towards her. He tried to make himself as flat as possible. Even his poor twisted tail trailed behind him in defeat.
“Here you are, little man.” Bailey placed the plate six inches away from him. The kitten waited for her to step back before he resumed his movement. She shook her head slowly. The poor thing had been on the receiving end of some torment. His tail was broken and had healed with a weird kink. Part of his ear was missing in a jagged chunk. The ear was the real reason she had named him Chomp. Any loud noises sent the kitten into a panicked spiral and under the couch for hours. He would only come out if she slid a half can of tuna near the couch and left the apartment totally. As much as she longed to hold him, stroke him and hear that tentative purr, Bailey understood the need to trust. It takes time to rebuild trust in people. She would show him that she was safe and he was loved. Swallowing hard, Bailey couldn’t deny that she wanted the same for her own.
“Well, Chomp, what should we watch tonight? The Notebook, The Devil Wears Prada, or Miss Congeniality?” She moves to the couch but hears Chomp growling as he eats hungrily. Chuckling at the kitten, she clicks on the television.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll try to remember you would rather not watch chick flicks.” Bailey wondered if she wanted to cry, calculate or laugh tonight.
Laugh. Definitely laugh.
“Miss Congeniality it is!” She has watched the heck out of this disc and still found it funny. She loved that Gracie Hart became a dazzling woman without forsaking the person she really was inside. Turning the DVD and television on to run through the previews, Bailey went to the kitchen to pop some popcorn. Per their usual dance routine, Chomp took off into the living room skidding right under the couch. In his haste he knocks the empty plate onto the floor with a distinct crash.
“Should have named you, Blur.” Bailey grumbles under her breath as she puts the popcorn bag flat in the microwave and hits the button. She looked around the tiny apartment as she leaned up against the counter. The living room and kitchen were attached with an open layout. Just off the kitchen was the laundry room and bathroom. Off the living room near the front door is the only bedroom with a decent sized closet. That was the extent of the loft, but it was free, new and she didn’t have to go far to work.
Matt Johnson had been an amazing ally in this twenty five years of endless darkness. She had very few friends and the older she got the less they stayed. Everyone had their own lives and she couldn’t blame them for moving on. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t wanted to go too. School didn’t work out. There was no focus and it was difficult to do courses by correspondence anyway with internet service in and out of working order. Bailey had to find a place to keep Liberty after her stepfather said the mare had to go. Liberty was family and Bailey couldn’t sell her horse. So in hopes of finding her a home, she contacted Matt about using Liberty as a therapy horse. The Palomino mare had a brilliant temperament for it and patience to spare. It had been a difficult decision with no small amount of tears. In the end Matt had taken pity on Bailey and Liberty by offering a better solution.
So a couple months ago she had moved out of her stepfather’s house and into the loft apartment. Matt paid her for her work at the center, gave her a place to keep Liberty and asked no questions she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. Too bad the new location and new job didn’t sit well with her stepfather’s plans for them as a family.
Family. Dysfunctional. Painful. Angry. Fearful.
Nothing of those adjectives should ever remotely describe the word that should mean hope, trust, and peace. Bailey closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. Her lungs filled and for a moment she stared the darkness in the face. The beeping of the microwave roused her from her trance-like state. Shaking her head, she extracted the popcorn from the microwave, dumped it into a bowl and tossed the bag away. For a second she saw Chomp’s orange feet peep out from under the couch. She offered a small smile. There was nothing to fear here. Here in her apartment she was safe.
Comfy, cozy with a bowl of popcorn in her lap, Bailey was laughing at Gracie’s attempt to walk across a busy intersection while trying to be lady-like. She might even have snorted once or twice at the old man gliding past gawking strangers. Chomp had even come out from under the couch to settle underneath the scratched up coffee table. He licked his feet in a mission to clean every hair. Bailey wanted to scoop him up and settle him in her lap. Then she could stroke him and they could find comfort together.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Bailey stared at her cell phone ringing on the coffee table. A side glance confirmed Chomp’s flash exit. Deciding that she better not ignore it, Bailey set the bowl on the table and picked up her phone. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Taryn.
“What is it, Taryn?” Bailey asked in nearly a whisper. There was no malice there, just anxious fear at what it was now.
“Can you come get me? Please! He won’t stop yelling.” Taryn’s fifteen year old voice rose to such a strain that Bailey cringed. She hadn’t needed her half-sister to tell her that the old man was drunk and in a rage again.
“Taryn, you know he won’t let me take you. We have had this fight a million times.” Bailey felt her mind flipping through options like a Rolodex on crack.
“Please! Please!” Taryn yelled into the phone’s receiver and Bailey heard a loud crash. The phone disconnected and Bailey leaped off the couch. She wasn’t even going to change. Her heart was beating nearly out of her chest as she jammed her feet into her boots, grabbed her keys, wallet, and ran out of the apartment without locking the door. In her haste she nearly fell down the stairs but caught the wooden railing just in time. No time to calm her nerves, Bailey ran to her truck and flew out of the driveway to the place she loathed more than any other in the world.
The truck tires skidded to a halt on the gravel driveway and Bailey quickly turned the key. Every light in the house could be seen from the windows and the open front door. Stepping out into the open, her heart beat triple timed it’s punctuation of the situation happening inside the house. A house her mother had once lived in and loved. Roughly shaking her thoughts aside, Bailey cautiously went up the stairs and peered through the screen door. No one was
in the living room so she decided to enter without announcing herself. Sometimes silence paid off when her stepfather was in one of his fits. Any quick movements seemed to catch his attention and hell was sure to follow.
The room was a wreck with a tipped over chair, the coffee table littered with aluminum cans and glass bottles. Already it was ground zero. Bailey knew what she was going to find. A loud crash caught her attention and she quickly moved towards the hallway. The downstairs rooms were for her and Taryn. The upstairs room was for her mother and her husband. The banging started and she heard the frustrated growl of Marty Green. In one hand he had a beer and the other was fisted to bang on her sister’s closed door. No doubt barricaded from the inside.
“Get out here right now!” Marty yelled at the door. He was so loud it was no wonder he hadn’t heard Bailey come inside or up behind him.
“No way!” Taryn yelled back with as much ferocity. The last couple of months her half-sister had to put up with this crap on her own. Bailey had virtually been banned from the house forever. At least until he wanted something and it was usually to make her miserable.
“You better listen to me, girl! I’m your father!” The slur to his voice made Bailey shake her head. She stepped closer and flinched when the spot creaked. Silently she cursed an old house. Cold steel gray eyes swung towards her and pinned her. Indecision kept her mouth closed.
“Taryn, there seems to be a rat in our house.” His clipped, poison tipped voice caused Bailey to shiver.
“Bailey! Bailey, tell him to go away!” Taryn called out from her room. Bailey’s stomach churned and she wondered how she was ever going to be free of this man. Fear was what he wanted. He lived for it. It held a wicked power for him and he had wielded it for fifteen years. Her mother had merely tempered it and once that woman was gone, it left her daughters to fend for themselves. It made Bailey the middle ground and whether she liked it or not, she generally stood against him.
“Yes, Bailey, tell me to go away.” He crooned ferociously and when she didn’t say anything, his eyes narrowed and a sneer spread across his face. “See, Taryn, she’s a rat just like I said. She slinks around the corners, taking what she wants, and once the lights come on, she runs!”
A rat?
It was hardly the worst name he had ever called her. She still flinched under his scrutiny and he thrived off of it.
“Maybe you need to go to bed, Dad.” How she hated to call him that, but he insisted! “Taryn could come spend the night with me and give you some peace.” Bailey anchored herself to the wall, hoping she didn’t sound threatening. Marty narrowed his eyes and considered her for a moment. A lengthy, black moment if truth be told.
“Yes, Dad, please let me spend the night.” Taryn had opened her door a crack as Bailey and the old man stared at each other. Marty whipped his head around and firmly grabbed the door handle, dropping his beer to the floor. Taryn shrieked at the sudden movement and ducked back inside to try and push her door closed again. Bailey jumped into action. She threw her frame into Marty’s shoulder. It knocked him slightly off center only giving Taryn more time to slam the door and lock it once more. Bailey was about to back away when Marty let out a snarl as his elbow connected harshly with her cheek bone.
The excruciating pain in her head billowed out in waves as she fell hard to the beer soaked floor. She held her left side near her eye and blinked furiously at the tears that began to fall. Marty seemed stunned as he didn’t move his feet. That was all Bailey could see of him at the moment. She could hear Taryn’s staccato sobs coming from the other room.
“See what happens to those who stand against me? Damn, useless tramps anyway!” He bit out as he walked away and disappeared out of the house. Bailey only knew this as she heard the screen door slam closed. A moment later, her half-sister flung open the bedroom door and fell to her knees beside Bailey.
“Oh God, are you okay?” Taryn sniffed as she swiped at her tears. The girls looked at each other for a moment and Bailey was afraid to say anything. There was a delicate dam of disbelief, anger, and helplessness inside of her. If it burst open there would be a definite mess of which she neither knew how to clean up nor did she want too.
Nodding, Bailey slid back up against the wall and tried to ignore the beer soaking into her pajama bottoms. The smell alone made her stomach heave. She gulped big breaths and fought to restore her nerves.
“I’m sorry, Bailey. I shouldn’t have called you.” Taryn looked so dejected. Her fifteen years hadn’t prepared her to deal with this idiot, but it was a fact she was doing so now.
“It’s not your fault, Taryn. Something has to give here and I need to figure out how to get you out of here.” Bailey hissed when her cheek pulled tight. The pain made her head pound with a desperate fury. It felt as if she took her hand away, the flesh would fall off.
“How? You’ve talked to the police. They don’t believe you. They think I’m a delinquent youth, according to them. No one is willing to stand against him.” Taryn’s tears started again and Bailey pulled her sister into her chest. They sat there together. Both broken, betrayed, and wishing to God someone would save them from this warped hell they had suffered in for far too long.
CHAPTER TEN
Bailey lay across her bed back in her apartment much worse for wear. The alarm on her phone had been going off for twenty minutes and she still couldn’t bring herself to shut it off. Ironically it kept cadence with the drum banging in her skull. It hurt to even think and opening her eyes to the warm sunshine in her bedroom made her heart squeeze. The place that she had thought would become a sanctuary was tainted by the memories in her heart and the bruises now on her face. She wondered if she would ever feel safe. She skeptically wondered if she would ever be loved.
Rolling slightly from her front to her side, Bailey caught a strange sight out of the corner of her good eye. A second glance made her smile tremble and a tear slip down her cheek. On the pillow next to her own lay Chomp. The tuft of orange fur had his chin on his paws and his big yellow eyes watched her carefully. Even the incessant alarm hadn’t scared him from his position and it touched her to know he was watching over her. For the next few minutes she softly held Chomp’s gaze and tried to get a grip on her emotions.
Shuffling to the bathroom, Bailey knew she needed a shower. The stale beer smell was still on her skin although she’d tossed her pajama pants in the washer when she came home. Three in the morning, Marty hadn’t come home. She advised Taryn to lock her bedroom door again, keep her phone close and call Bailey if she needed her. It was another cycle to follow. He would be out for about a week now. Marty would drink, rage, disappear, and then start over again.
Stripping completely, Bailey got into the shower and pulled the curtain closed. The warmth of the spray did little to clean everything. Her cheek throbbed and her jaw ached. It was really going to be a difficult day. She really wanted to crawl back under the covers and wait for tomorrow to come. Too bad she was needed at the stables and Matt was too busy to spell her. She poured shampoo into her palm and scrubbed her blonde hair furiously.
If only I could scrub my brain this way!
She rinsed the soap and began again with the conditioner. Bailey turned on robot mode. It was easier than feeling everything and living inside her head. She had done that too many times before. Her mind became a house of mirrors with no way out. On auto-pilot she finished her shower and stepped out only to catch her fogged reflection in the vanity mirror. Her shoulders slumped and a deep frown spread across her face. Tentative fingertips outlined the dark black and purple bruise that spread from her eye down her jaw.
Yeah. No one is going to notice that.
She took a breath and forced her feet to move. If she stopped living and slunk away, he would win. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t give him the last thing she possessed. Her soul was the only thing unmarked by hate and anger. Her mind was tormented, her body bruised, her heart broken, but her soul remained firm. If she had to guess, it was t
he work of her mother. The only protection the woman could provide now.
Shaking her head, Bailey made quick work of getting dressed. Blue jeans, gray tank top, and her work boots finished her ensemble. Securing her damp hair into a messy bun, she took her keys down and locked up the apartment. Braving the world today was something she wasn’t certain about, but it had to be done. She could stand the stares, the pity, and the open curiosity. It was the questions she hoped she could field. There was a fragility to her today that she couldn’t shake. Perhaps tomorrow the urge to crack would be gone.
Perhaps not.
The familiar smells of the barn made her aching muscles relax a bit more. Her heart was still thundering in her chest and no matter how many deep breaths she took she couldn’t get it under control. Pulling her leather gloves out of her back pocket, Bailey slid them on and went to work. Bales of meadow hay were stacked outside each occupied stall. She broke through the twine with her pocket knife. The bale sprung open to emit a bit of swept up sunshine and dried grass. Picking up a flake of hay, Bailey tossed it up into the metal feeder. Then once the whole section was fed, she started on the water. Buckets were emptied and filled again. Long soft noses were patted and stroked. It was Liberty’s turn to be loved as Bailey made it back up to her stall.
“Hey there, my love.” Bailey pulled the hose along behind her and reached over to unlatch the Palomino’s door. Liberty backed up and patiently waited for her bucket to be filled with the cool, clear water. This was routine and for Bailey it was nearly robotic. Each chore followed the same progression with little thought put toward it. Her mind couldn’t help but revert to the night before. It analyzed each step, each word spoken in haste to protect her sister. A tear slipped down her cheek and Liberty came to the stall door. Her beautiful golden head nudging Bailey’s arm and those soulful brown eyes expressing understanding without words.
