Knox is perfectly still. The smug smile on his face tells me just how serious he thinks this is. He hasn’t even dropped the belt.
“Oh, come on,” he smiles. He’s clearly amused. “You gonna shoot me?” He takes a slow, deliberate step forward.
“Stay back!” Hot tears blur my vision. I raise the gun to his head and cock it. It’s heavier than I imagined.
Knox’s smile fades. “You won’t,” his voice is confident but he doesn’t move. “You need me, Holly. We need each other.”
My hand trembles. If I drop this gun, I know how this ends. My body covered in welts as he roughly fucks me. I know that tomorrow, he’ll buy me expensive clothes, and that we’ll never talk about this. About what he does to me. Until next time. When it happens again.
And again.
“No!” My voice is steadier than my hand. “I don’t need you anymore.”
“If you shoot me, you better fucking kill me, cunt! I’ll fuck you with that gun, you understand me?” Knox booms.
I drop my hand, and Knox sneers as he thinks that he won. Instead, I aim between his legs, I’m going to shoot his dick off. The trigger squeezes easily under my finger. I close my eyes and lower the gun.
BANG!
“Fucking-shit-fuck! You bitch!”
I open my eyes and Knox is on the floor holding his knee. Not what I was aiming for, but satisfaction still swells up inside me as I watch the blood stain his jeans.
There’s no time to waste! I spot his car keys on the bookshelf and run across the room to grab them.
“I’m gonna slice you open! Do you hear me?” Knox shrieks.
Clutching the keys in my free hand, I grip his gun tight in my other. I hold it up again, pointing it at him as I maneuver around his bloody pool growing on the floor.
“Fuck you, Knox.” I grit the words through my teeth. “If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you with your own fucking gun,” I yell bravely.
I run to the door and don’t look back as I pass through it. I know he can’t chase me down, but somehow I’m not convinced he won’t find a way. I race down the stairwell so fast I feel like I’m almost tumbling down the flights of stairs. My ankle is screaming in pain, but I can’t stop. I can’t risk him catching me. Not now.
Knox will kill me. Or have someone else do it. The fluorescent lights blend together as I race through the underground parking lot to his car. Jumping in, I half expect him to hit the window, like some kind of goddamned horror movie villain that won’t die. He’s been far worse than that for me, for a long time now.
The key turns in the ignition and the car starts. I back out and Knox isn’t there. I make it all the way to the exit, expecting this to somehow fall apart at any second. I shiver despite the Miami heat.
Nothing stops me. I pull out onto the street and drive away into the night. All my fears of never being able to escape slowly begin to fade as I realize what I just did. I’ve been with Knox so long; I had convinced myself freedom was impossible. I toss his handgun into the passenger seat and drive away. Knox and his horrors grow smaller in my rearview mirror as my mind fumbles to come up with a plan. I’ll need to ditch the car. I need to get out of Florida. But where will I go? How will I get there?
I only know two things right now.
I’m free.
If Knox tracks me down, I’ll be dead.
3|Jake
“Petty Officer Armstrong!” My head snaps up and my eyes refocus to the present. Back from the hundred-mile stare – the look I get when the past haunts my memories.
“Chief!” I answer Chief Warrant Officer Andrews, who’s been assigned to represent me at my hearing.
My Captain’s Mast is a blessing compared to the court-martial I could’ve been up for. However, just because it’s a lesser punishment doesn’t mean I’m not about to get tossed out of the SEALs. I know I’m not going to spend any time in a cell, but I might be given my marching orders. Back to civilian street.
“You come to attention when I address you, Petty Officer! This is a charge parade not a fucking tea party,” Andrews barks, his cheeks billowing out like a sail in high seas.
“Yes, Chief!” I stand at attention. Eyes forward. Chin up. Shoulders back. I refuse to let my gaze wander over to the man now responsible for representing me. A man I’ve served with for years. Closer to me than my own father. My gut twinges as the thought marinates in my brain. Just like my own Dad, he’s a man I’ve let down.
“Now, listen here,” the Chief continues, “you’re gonna march down these flats and before you enter the quarterdeck you’re gonna remove your headdress, got it?” He doesn’t wait for my response. It wasn’t a real question.
My eyes flicker over his aging face. He meets my gaze with a hardened stare, his brown eyes leveling me. “You’re gonna march over to the podium and bring your heels together in front of the Captain. You don’t say a word. Not a fucking peep. You let me do the talking, understand?” He paces in front of me nervously.
Again, I don’t answer, but this time I can see that Andrews wanted me to. He stops and peers at me with a look that makes me wish I could hide in my own skin. How is it that I can face terrorists? I can shoot killers dead without a second thought, but a look from Andrews makes me feel like a nervous recruit again.
“Yes, Chief!” I answer.
Andrews nods slowly, happy with my delayed response. His sea boots squeak against the floor as he goes back to pacing.
“Good. Now, the Captain will hear your charges. He’ll listen to what I have to say and then he’ll ask you to speak. A word of advice, keep it short, sweet and true. No excuses. No one wants to hear anything other than your total acceptance that what you did was wrong, get it?”
“Yes, Chief!”
“I’m gonna recommend that we keep you, Armstrong. I’ll do what I can. However, there’s a good chance you’re being discharged. If that happens,” he stops in his tracks and looks me square in the face, “I want to thank you.”
I can’t hide the surprise spreading over my face like an oil slick on the ocean. My jaw slackens, “Thank me?”
“Yes,” the Chief’s face is inches from my own. I can see the broken capillaries in his nose that tell the tale of more fun nights out with the boys than he probably remembers. The smell of his tobacco chew wafts around me. “Listen, son, I know you. I’ve known you for many years now. I know as well as anybody that this was a mistake. An idiotic mistake, but it wasn’t you. You’re more than your worst decision. There isn’t a single person on this earth that wants to be judged on their lowest moment. Trust me, we’ve all done shit we aren’t proud of,” he claps my shoulder and his eyes soften.
I look down at the toes of my boots, wishing with every ounce of my soul that I could take it all back. But I can’t.
“If you do get the boot today, it doesn’t change what you did for us, for your brothers, or for your country over in Afghanistan. You carried out that mission and saved lives. This…” he waves his hand searching for the word, “shit show that you’ve gotten yourself into, it’s never gonna taint that. So, thank you. Keep your chin up and be proud of what you did right. Even if your life feels all wrong now. You’ll always have that.”
Andrews clears his throat loudly and squares off his jaw. As he clamps his teeth together, his eyes narrow and the moment between us fades away.
“Now, march your ass down to the quarterdeck. Let’s get this over with,” he barks.
“Yes, Chief!” I repeat again as I give an about-turn and do my sharpest drill down the hall.
As I was directed, I stop and remove my hat before proceeding into the room. My arms swing by my sides as I take short, sharp steps over to the podium. I come to a standstill in front of the Captain, snap my heels together and stiffly hold my arms tight to my sides.
Captain Bliss looks me over sternly. His thick moustache seems to add an extra layer of disapproval with its turned down sides. The look of disgust is echoed in his squinted eyes and furrowed bro
ws.
I struggle to focus as Andrews pleads my case. My mind is reeling, is this it for me? I joined the SEALs just days after I graduated high school. This career is one I’ve lived and breathed for my entire adult life. If I’m not a SEAL, who will I be?
“I said, ‘what do you have to say for yourself, Armstrong?’” The Captain’s voice reaches through the thick cotton fog in my brain and gives me a shake.
I blink as I realize everyone is waiting for me to say my piece. Swallowing hard, I open my mouth, “Sir. Sorry, Sir. I’m guilty. The cocaine was mine and I used it for recreational purposes. I have no excuse. It was a bad decision, Sir. One I’ve regretted every day since. I let down my brothers in arms and I also let down my real brother, in an act of cowardice I’ll never be able to forgive myself for. I accept your judgement and punishment.”
“Captain, if I may,” Andrews cuts in, “I’d like to say a few words,” he waits for the nod of approval from Bliss before continuing.
“Very well,” the Captain answers.
Andrews clears his throat, “Sir, I’d like to add that Petty Officer Armstrong has worked with me for quite some time. He’s always been reliable and respectful; a stand-up guy. He’s served us proudly abroad on many deployments as well as at home. I see you have his file there,” Andrews nods to the manila envelope on the podium, “so I don’t need to tell you how instrumental Armstrong was in Operation Trident Fury. However, I would just like to mention that without the unflinching bravery that this man showed during that mission, our guys could have easily faced an ambush.” My Chief looks over at me, “He definitely stepped in it this time. I’m not saying he should be excused for what he did, I just want to let you know that what he did was a mistake and not at all a testament to his character.”
Captain Bliss looks at me sternly, then to the Chief. “Noted,” he finally answers.
The room is so quiet. Every movement of the people gathered to watch this humiliating proceeding is amplified like its being played over a loudspeaker. I can hear Andrews breathing beside me. I can hear my own heart rushing blood through my body.
“The charges against you are serious, Petty Officer,” the Captain finally interrupts the silence. “Cocaine use is strictly prohibited, as you well know. However, given your clean record, not to mention your exemplary reputation that Chief Warrant Officer Andrews just mentioned about your deployment with SEAL Team 8, you went above and beyond for your mission and I’m prepared to take that into consideration.” He presses his lips into little more than a slit in his face, his moustache covering his mouth like a blanket. “Your punishment,” he looks at me sternly, “you will receive a full reduction in rank, a loss of fifty percent of your base pay for two months and you must also attend an inpatient rehabilitation facility for sixty days. If you choose not to attend, which you are within your legal rights to refuse, you will be discharged. What do you choose?” He watches me carefully.
Is it really a choice? The money and rank reduction sting, but both can be earned back. Getting a discharge would be death.
“I accept your first option. Thank you, Sir.”
4|Holly
ERREICH!
“Fuck!” I yank the wheel hard to the right and pull back down off the curb I’d just driven Knox’s car onto. That didn’t sound good, but I don’t have time to care. I grab the ticket from the airport parking garage dispenser and shakily maneuver his precious Audi inside.
Somehow, I manage to slide into an open parking space without crashing the car into anything else. When I ran away from home at seventeen, all I had was a learner’s permit. I’ve been behind the wheel before, but that was five years ago. I throw the car into park and fling my seatbelt off, patting my hands underneath the dashboard carefully.
“I know it’s here somewhere,” I grunt, twisting my body into some kind of advanced yoga pose as I reach as far as my fingertips can stretch.
“There!” I feel the bundle and pry the duct tape by the corner, peeling it back until the package fall into my hand. Yanking the Ziploc bag of money toward me, I quickly dart my eyes out my window to see if anyone around is watching. The few people in the parking garage are busy getting their bags together for their trips. No one gives a damn about what I’m doing, let alone what I’m going through.
I pull the bag open and wrap my trembling hand around the stack of bills inside. The wad of neatly wrapped hundred dollar bills is mine. I’ve been with Knox for five years, and for as long as I’ve known him, he’s kept his emergency stash of cash taped up in his car. He always said it was enough to get to where he had to go if shit went down, but not so much that it would ruin him if his car ever got jacked. Knox isn’t big on bank accounts. Instead, he has bricks of cash like this one hidden all over the condo and lord knows where else.
I flip my thumb over the bills, there’s at least ten grand here. I can go anywhere with that kind of cash. Anywhere in the world. Start over. Go get a fresh start somewhere.
Like the fresh start you got with Knox?
I wave my hand, trying to swat the intrusive thought away like a buzzing mosquito. This will be different. I’m not a kid anymore. I won’t end up in the arms of another psychopathic drug smuggler. I’ve always learned my lessons the hard way, but I still learn them.
I don’t have my purse, so I split the fat wad of cash in two and stuff each half into the cups of my bra. I look like Dolly Parton, but I don’t care. I’d probably get a lot more stares if I walked around holding ten thousand dollars in my hand like a clutch. My eyes flit over the car to see if there’s anything else I should bring. They stop on the gun lying on the passenger seat, gleaming up at me. I spin around in my seat and cautiously look around for any security guards or passersby who might notice what I’m doing. No one around. Quickly, I wrap my fingers around the cold steel and give the gun a quick wipe down using the stretchy edge of my skirt to lift it back up and toss it under the driver’s seat. I pull the keys from the ignition and cast them aside the same way. One quick look in the mirror to make sure I don’t have raccoon eyes, and I’m out of Knox’s car. I lock the door, slam it shut and gasp instinctively at the gash slit down the driver’s side door from where I scraped the ticket box.
Knox would kill me if he saw that. Shit, Knox will kill me if he ever sees me again. The car should be the least of my worries. After half a decade of living with his rules, his anger, his abuse…it’s hard to shake the feeling that everything I’m doing won’t come with horrifying consequences.
I need to get away. Start over. I need to go now. Logically, I know that with a gunshot wound to the leg, Knox isn’t going to be hot on my tail chasing me down. It’s not like he can just call in his car stolen to the Miami police. They would love to hear from him, as one of the biggest cocaine importers on the Eastern Seaboard, I’m sure it would be the bust of a lifetime for them, to have Knox drop into their laps.
No, I don’t need to worry about any of that. For now. I slam the door shut and make my way to the airport. I just need to get on a flight and get out of here. The further the better. My heels click against the cement loudly as I struggle to think up a plan. Maybe Europe would be a good place to go.
Shit.
I can’t leave the country! Not when I left my passport at my parents’ house five years ago. My mind flashes back to a similar time, when I let my parents think I was going off to school, my backpack stuffed with my belongings. Instead of heading to my grade eleven classes that day, I jumped on a bus for Miami. After grieving my twin sister’s death for almost a year, I couldn’t take it anymore. I could deal with the stares, the whispers, the rumors. I couldn’t, however, handle the emotionless void in my mother’s eyes, or the heartbroken and forced smiles from my Dad. I had to leave it behind. To start over. I left and never looked back.
After living in a town as small as Everglades City, getting lost in a real city like Miami seemed perfect. It didn’t take me too many nights on my own before I realized how wrong I’d been. A fresh-face
d seventeen-year-old in a huge city, it wasn’t long before I attracted the wrong kind of attention.
I saved you, you ungrateful cunt! Without me, you’d be turning tricks on the street. Or dead.
Knox’s words that I’ve heard so many times echo in my mind. My heart wrenches as hot tears slide down my cheeks. I remember when being his girl felt like a privilege. When he really did feel like my knight in shining armor. I was so young and fucking dumb.
I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand, the welts on my leg and my swollen ankle are painful reminders of how wrong I was. A salty tear trails down my face and burns the split in my lip, making me wince.
No, I don’t owe him shit. He didn’t save me. He ruined me.
I reach the door of the airport and my stomach sinks. I have no ID at all. None. It’s not just a matter of having no passport. I didn’t have the time or the presence of mind to grab my purse when I ran out of Knox’s place. I’m not just stuck in the USA, I’m stuck. Period.
I fight the urge to lay down and give up. To just crumple into a fetal position and let the authorities deal with me. I’m exhausted. The adrenaline of leaving Knox behind has faded out and, for the first time in five years, so has my coke high.
When I first came to live with Knox, I remember how the endless partying and mountains of coke would light up our nights. What started as fun quickly turned into necessity. I began using coke how most people drink coffee. After a while, I needed it just to feel normal. I haven’t been clean in almost half a decade. Right now, I’m fading fast.
Without thinking, I jump into one of the yellow cabs waiting by the airport curb. I feel cocooned inside the car. Safer than I’ve felt in years.
The cab driver turns to me, the white teeth revealed in his smile are a stark contrast to his midnight skin. “Where can I take you?” He asks cheerfully in a thick Jamaican accent.
Where? Where can I go?
Tears blur my vision and flood my face. “I… I don’t know,” I sob.
Tinder Ella: A Modern Day Single Dad Fairy-Tale Page 44
