Ali said nothing, adjusting her grip on the baseball.
The couple each held their ground. His face grew angrier, while her gestures remained stoic and unwavering. She again adjusted her grip on the baseball, finding what she knew as a perfect placement for her fingers on the seams. Placing the pipe on the dresser, Clint’s eyes veered down to her hand. In an instant, his face showed a flash of concern, as if seeing a sudden vision of the future. As quickly as she could, she hurled the baseball with her arm. Ali didn’t get the power she could have if she had stepped into the throw, but it was fast enough, as if her arm strength didn’t skip a beat from her softball days. The throw didn’t waste any motions. She felt the speed of the leather zip off of her fingertips.
The ball had plenty of velocity and was straight…but straight into the wall behind Clint.
Clint was wide eyed, like a buck staring straight into oncoming headlights. He felt the whizz of the ball fly past his oily hair, and he was aware that if it was a couple inches to the right, that he would probably be a bloody mess. But his eyes went from wide to squinting and vividly twitching. His eyebrows arched. The grinding of his yellowed teeth almost blared through the hushed bedroom. His hands made a popping sound as he tightly squeezed his fists. Ali’s own hands trembled, and her breath suddenly escaped her. She knew what was coming.
Muttering the word bitch under his breath, Clint threw a right haymaker at his fiancé. Like her father the previous day, she reacted quickly. Ducking under it with fleet body work, she flew past him and managed to grab Austin’s suitcase with the ends of her fingertips. But as she attempted to run out the open entryway, the luggage slipped from those same fingertips. For a moment, she hesitated in retrieving the dropped suitcase before getting the hell out of there. That small amount of indecision gave enough time for Clint to spin around and grab the lower back portion of Ali’s tight red shirt. Her body jerked toward him without control as he pulled her like a rag doll. A blow in the form of a closed fist struck the back of her skull, but it didn’t faze her. Even with a grip on her shirt, she still attempted to escape wildly. The fabric of her shirt made popping noises from it stretching. She used every ounce of power she had in her fairly skinny legs in efforts to rip away from Clint’s handle. But an abrupt forearm wrapped around her windpipe ceased any further effort.
Clint squeezed on the neck of Ali, putting his arms in a figure four to increase the leverage and strength of the chokehold. The crushing feeling on her throat left her unable to breathe. With her fingernails, she clawed desperately at his exposed arm, drawing blood. But that didn’t stop Clint. He continued to constrict the air flow of Ali, as if he didn’t feel any pain. She even slapped at the bruised portion of his head, but that had no effect either. He was squeezing so hard that tears wear dripping from her red and bulging eyes. She had to think of something in the next second or else her life would truly come to an end. She had no ability to kick at or attack with her fists or elbows. Clint likely wouldn’t even feel it. But if there was something Clint would feel, it would be the pain of loss, and there was only one thing Clint hated losing more than anything.
Clint was addicted to drugs and all that implies. If drugs were a sports team, he would be a season ticket holder. He wasted nothing and kept every piece of drug equipment like he was saving it for a scrapbook. Ali had been slapped in the face for a microscopic amount of cocaine that fell to the dirty carpeted floor during a snorting session. She was surprised he didn’t force her to sniff it from the carpet. Another time, Austin had accidentally stepped on one of Clint’s glass pipes that was in the floor for some reason, cracking it. If Austin hadn’t fled and Ali hadn’t pleaded with her fiancé to stop, Austin would have been beaten. To what extent was a road she didn’t want to traverse. Clint had also broken one of his cousin’s nose for forgetting to buy cold medicine for their meth operation. It was ridiculous how obsessed he was with drugs. She had to make it his downfall.
With her last remaining bits of strength, Ali dragged Clint toward the dresser where the small baggy of meth and pipe lay idle. Even though she was still a few feet away, she extended her arm for it, hoping that by some miracle, her arm would magically stretch and be able to grab the items.
And like that, the arm around her throat stopped squeezing, and Ali fell to the floor, gasping for breath. She was glad for the reprieve, but it was fleeting. A colossal blow rammed in to her stomach, in the form of Clint’s foot. Instantly grimacing and shuddering in pain, Ali coughed fiercely. She was sure she had passed out for a moment. Either that, or Clint had teleported to the corner of the room, taking another hit off of his pipe while peeking through the blinds of the window. She also didn’t remember having vomit all over chin.
Squatting down next to Ali’s face, Clint had a devious grin on his face. Letting out a small cough, he looked her up and down. “You think I was actually gonna kill you? I ain’t sayin’ it ain’t a bad idea. I would want nothin’ more than the squeeze that stupid whore Tomkins neck right off ya. But, killin’ you would make your gay ass daddy come in here guns blazing. I’d still take him down, ya know, since I’m a fuckin’ badass. But I like to measure my risks from time to time.”
Ali said nothing. She couldn’t even if she tried. Her windpipe felt pinched shut and all the noises that managed to escape her lips were pained wheezes.
“So, what I think I’ll do is call your daddy, tell him I got his dear ol’ little girl all writhin’ and screamin’ in pain and that if he don’t come here unarmed, that I’m gonna kill you! Then, when he comes, I’m gonna chop off his dick, shove it up his ass, put it in his mouth, then blow his fuckin’ brains out with a shotgun. How’s that sound?”
Ali slowly rose to her knees. Glaring at her now ex-fiancé, the realization that she had been wanted so badly came to fruition. She hated this man with every fiber of her being. Balling up her fist, Ali extended her middle finger upward with pride. She couldn’t speak, but that gesture would do more than enough to exclaim how she felt about his plans.
He struck her in the face with an lightning quick open palm in retaliation. His smirk was now gone, and a face filled with rage replaced it. Igniting his lighter, Clint grabbed her arm and held it over the flame. She struggled to loosen from his grip by struggling and attacking him with her unencumbered arm, but he stayed vigilant. Ali screamed in agony as her forearm turned red. She felt doomed to this torture until he died. She was fully on board with her father now. No doubt remained in her mind.
She continued to struggle, mitigating some of the damage to the arm because of Clint having to repeatedly reposition his lighter. However, both stopped when the front screen door made a loud closing sound.
Clint instantly let go of Ali’s arm and quickly stood up into a prepared position. “Who the fuck is that?” he whispered.
“Clint, you here!?”
Scar, Ali thought. At least now Clint wouldn’t have a choice but to stop torturing her. Scar had no tolerance for it and refused to be a part of it. He had mentioned to Clint many times that if he ever saw the deeds being done, that he would beat Clint’s ass all over the county.
Even in a great deal of agony, Ali rose to her feet about the time Scar appeared in the open doorway. A skeptical look appeared on his face, but he didn’t say anything. Ali muttered to be excused under her breath when she passed Scar to go to the kitchen. Turning on the faucet, she gritted her teeth, placing her burnt arm under the cold running water. The arm was red in multiple places, but she reassured herself that she would be fine. She could take this kind of pain. She found some comfort in that she hopefully wouldn’t be experiencing such abuse much more.
Finding a ziplock bag under the sink, she placed a few cubes of ice from the freezer into the clear bag, then firmly put it on her arm. She winced for a moment as the cold cubes clashed against her burned skin. Hearing low whispers from her son’s room, Ali did her best to make out what the two brothers were talking about. She heard Scar speaking about how Clint needed to ste
p up and there were words about last night. Clint replied, but she couldn’t make it out. Leaning her rear against the kitchen counter, she almost let out a tear. She thought about taking a knife out of a drawer and cutting her wrists until they were a crimson waterfall, just to get away from this madness. Smoking some crystal would bring better emotions back to her. For a second, she tried to remember where the backup pipe was. Before she thought too hard about the subject, she made sure Austin’s face came to mind. He was her only saving grace right now.
A minute later, Scar emerged into the kitchen. Clint didn’t follow him, but she had no complaints about that. Looking her up and down, Scar’s face remained plain and stoic. “He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Haven’t you said that before?”
Scar scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I have. But he won’t do it again.”
Ali mockingly sneered at Scar and removed the ice pack from her arm for a moment, staring at the redness of her appendage. Her skin would peel, that she was sure of. She hoped it wouldn’t scar. She didn’t need to draw more attention to her arms. There were needle marks from when she was experimenting with injecting. There was also a scar where she cut herself when on pills. She felt embarrassed by them, so whenever she did go out in public, she did what she could to cover them up with makeup.
Clint walked by the two, barely even giving a passing glance on his way out the front door. Ali stared at Scar, but he only replied with his own confused face. There was never any way of telling what Clint was thinking.
Ali was curious what they were discussing in the back. “What were y’all talking about?”
“Usual shit. He got a little too high and cocky last night and I had to knock him down a peg. Just things like that.” Scar opened the refrigerator door, looking for something to drink. “Seriously, you guys don’t have any beer in here?”
“Nope. Haven’t been to the store in a while.”
Somewhat disappointed, Scar closed the door empty with food save a bottle of ketchup. “So, you need a ride back to your dad’s, or you just gonna walk back?”
She wanted to reply with an astounding no, but she held her tongue. “I can walk, thanks.”
“You do realize it is raining, right?”
She hadn’t noticed. Only now did she hear the patter of rain on the roof and windows and thunder in the distance. Ali hoped that her father and Austin had returned to the house or found shelter. Austin had a good immune system, but her sudden resurgence in her maternal instincts made her worry about him getting sick.
Scar decided to answer for her. “Alright, I’m gonna take you back. You got everything you need outta here?”
Ali shot a cynical glance. “Like hell am I going to let you around Ow-, I mean fath…ugh, dad.”
“Relax, I ain’t got any intentions of doing him any harm. He just needs to hear what I have to say.”
“Why don’t you tell me, and I’ll tell him?”
“We need to speak man to man, Grayson to Tomkins.”
Ali tossed her ice pack, which had already begun melting, into the sink filled with dirty dishes. “I don’t believe you.”
“If I wanted to kill him, and trust me, I can, then I would have already done it. However, I need to speak with him. It’ll be good. Ya know, if he listens.”
Ali shook her head. “You two are gonna fuckin’ kill each other.”
Scar could only shrug with a dumb look on his face.
Shrugging herself, Ali just went with it. “Well alright then, take me there.”
After running through the rain and throwing the suitcases into the back seats, Ali hopped into the passenger seat as Scar pulled out of the gravel driveway. After turning off the paved street to a dirt county road, Scar’s dull eyes lit up when he noticed all the mud that had accumulated on the road. It gave Scar little bits of glee as mud splashed from his tires specifically made for such terrain. She kept to herself for most of the drive, only responding to Scar’s out of place small talk with a grunt. He was a brash, cocky and strong man, but for some reason he would always come off as awkward whenever the two of them were alone. It made her wonder a few notions, but she kept such things inside.
After a few minutes of wishing that she had walked through the rain instead of an uncomfortable drive, Scar and Ali arrived at her father’s home. She kept her fingers crossed that Owen wouldn’t start shooting up the truck before even seeing who was in it. However, he never came outside.
Ali grabbed her suitcases from the back seat. “Wait here. Unless you want my dad to put a bullet in your head.”
Scar had drew his gun without her even realizing it. He sarcastically grunted and nodded. Still, he understood the risks of coming here. As soon as she opened the truck door, she felt the cold rain on her skin. It startled her and sent shivers down her spine. Gusts of wind made the trees sway and blew her hair into her face. Texas weather, she thought to herself. She was not a well-travelled person, but she doubted any other state had such odd extremes of weather like this one.
After sprinting as fast as she could through the rain and the soggy lawn with her suitcases in tow, Ali approached the front door. Feeling as she was a welcome guest again to her own father’s home, she opened it without knocking. The first thing she noticed once entering was Austin bending over on the floor. As soon as he heard the door opeb, he turned around, then sprinted to his mother with wide and fearful eyes.
“Mom! It’s Grandpa!”
While gently placing her open palm on Austin’s sweaty head, she observed what Austin was looking at. Her body instantly tensed up. She could feel the blood flowing through her fingertips and head. A sudden dryness in her throat made her unable to swallow.
On the floor, face down, was her father. His unconscious face was somewhat visible, though streaks of blood and vomit had escaped his unmoving lips, leaving streaks of red and yellow on its way to the carpet.
Ali fell to her knees and did her best to not scream.
There was no way this was happening again.
Chapter 13
Owen awoke to being shaken like a rag doll. Two sets of hands were on him. One pair was small, the other just a little bigger and squeezed a little harder. His eyes slowly and tiredly lifted, though they still felt weighed down. He found himself on his living room floor. The air was muggy and made him instantly uncomfortable. The front door was open, but the dark thunderous clouds let little light in. Half of his face itched from lying flat on the carpet. Out of the lower right corner of his eye, he noticed arms, torso and legs of a person. He tilted his head just enough to see his daughter with concern in her eyes.
“Dad!? Dad, holy shit! What the fuck happened?”
Owen cleared his phlegm and vomit encrusted throat before making an attempt to speak. “Hey.”
“What the fuck happened, Dad?”
Finding some pride and resolve to raise up, Owen managed to get to his knees. “Language, Ali.”
“Sorry. Just…what happened?”
Below him, on the carpet that desperately needed vacuuming, he saw a moist concoction of blood and vomit that would more than likely leave a stain. He rubbed the back of his hand frantically on his mouth, wanting the remains of the bloody bile off of his skin. Not knowing what happened himself, Owen shook his head despondently. A set of small arms suddenly wrapped around his neck from behind. Owen was alarmed for a tick, but immediately recognized those arms. His grandson, who had been the other set of arms shaking him back to life, hugged his grandfather dearly.
Ali looked toward Austin. “Austin, baby. What happened?”
“He came in from down the pasture and he walked in and just fell. Right on his face.”
Right on my face. God, it hurts, thought Owen. He hadn’t realized the pain until just now.
“He just fell?” inquired Ali. “That’s it?”
“Well, he grabbed his stomach, I think.
Oh yeah, he threw up. Blood. Gross. Then he fell. It almost made me throw up too.”
Ali took a long, perplexed look at her father. There was no way she could tell her little boy that Owen, the grandfather that acted more like a father and loved Austin to no end was dying from a disease. It was better that the boy kept his innocence.
“Probably coughing up some of the blood from yesterday,” lied Owen, thinking quickly. “Your uncle hit me pretty hard.”
Austin’s eyes got big, but skeptical. “But throwing up blood means you are bleeding inside, right?”
Owen chuckled. His grandson was too smart for his own good. “I wouldn’t worry. Cuts heal.”
Austin made an overly dramatic relieved sound. It was enough to put a smile on Owen’s face, although he knew the real reason he vomited blood. Living with this pain every day was becoming more tolerable. Either that, or he had just learned to block the pain out so no one on the outside would ever know. That had to be it, because he was willing himself not to double over in pain.
“Are you sure you are okay, Dad?” asked Ali.
“Well, it’s the first time I fainted like this. But I’ll be alright. Just another issue that I have to press forward on. Gotta face it head on.”
Ali rolled her eyes. “I don’t think the famous Tomkins words really apply with your situation, Dad.”
“It does. It’s still a problem, and one I have to deal with.”
Rising to her feet, Ali offered her hand to her father. Before Owen accepted it, the front screen door opened. At first, Owen thought it was the wind from the still happening storm. But as a large body loomed in the doorway, blocking out the gray clouded light from outside, Owen immediately felt a second surge of bile rise. Apprehension, fear, anger, rage, and a multitude of other emotions swarmed inside of him.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Scar!?” Owen demanded, rising to his feet without Ali’s aid.
“I got tired of waiting.”
Owen glared at his daughter, who timidly stared back. “He brought me home, Dad. I went and packed up some stuff at my house while you guys were gone and he offered to take me home because it was raining and that’s it. I swear.”
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