My Vows Are Sealed (Sealed With a Kiss)

by Carmen Richter

  He shoved me into the wall and then slapped me across the face so hard that I saw stars.

  “How dare you fucking talk back to me?!” he roared. “You’re my child, and you fucking left my house! You turned your back on me and made me look weak to this entire fucking city!”

  “You tried to rape me!” I exclaimed.

  His eyes went as dark as the sky on a pitch-black night and as hard as stone, and he threw me across the room into the coffee table, making me lose my balance and fall to the floor, directly on top of my hurt arm. I screamed in agony, and he stalked toward me, so I curled myself into as tight of a ball as I could, trying to protect the fragile life growing inside me.

  Please, God, protect me. Protect my baby, I pleaded silently.

  The steel-toed end of his boot made direct contact with my shin, and I cried out in pain.

  “Jezebel,” he hissed as he pulled me up to my feet. “You fucking asked for it. You made yourself unclean by whoring yourself out, and then you couldn’t get enough and you wanted it so fucking bad that you tried to seduce your own father.”

  He threw me backward again, and this time the fall was hard enough that I broke the flimsy wooden coffee table on my way down.

  I’d thought I’d seen the absolute worst, ugliest parts of my father that day when he’d come an inch away from sexually assaulting me, but that was nothing compared to the heart-stopping terror I felt right now. I had no idea how far he’d go right now in his attempts to make me pay for leaving his house.

  “Dad, stop! Please! I’m pregnant!” I sobbed.

  I didn’t care if I ended up in a body cast from head to toe, but if he made me lose this baby, I didn’t know what I’d do. As scared as I was of how Brendan and I were going to provide for this child, I was even more terrified of losing it. I already loved it more than anything else in the whole world. And my father had to believe at least some of what he preached every week, right? He wouldn’t want to harm a completely innocent unborn child, would he?

  “I knew you were a little fucking whore!” he cackled as he raised his foot again.

  On instinct, I rolled onto my side, and he stomped down right on my rib cage. More unbearable pain sliced through me, telling me that at least one rib was broken, but my need to protect my child overrode it, and I continued to roll until I was able to start crawling, using my one good arm to pull myself forward.

  My leg was yanked backward, and before I could react, I was being pulled back toward my father and he was flipping me over. I brought my free leg up to shield my stomach and held it against me with my good arm in a feeble attempt to shield my baby.

  “Trying to save your fucking demon spawn?” he spat. “A child born in sin is the Devil’s child!”

  He kicked at my stomach, and he was partially successful in landing a blow there, but while he was raising his leg again, I rolled over once more. I was expecting another blow to land square on my spine, but instead I heard my fiancé’s voice.

  “Get the hell away from her!” Brendan yelled, and I heard the sound of someone landing a punch.

  More tears spilled over my cheeks as I realized that my father had just hurt the man I loved.

  “You have no fucking room to speak, Judas!” my father growled. “You defiled her! Planted a demon inside her! Conspired to hide her from her father!”

  “I protected her!” Brendan spat back. “And I’ll die protecting her if I have to!”

  The sound of sirens echoed in my ears as I rolled over, looking just in time to see Brendan knee my father in the groin and then push him backward the second he doubled over. Brendan looked completely unharmed, but I noticed a trail of blood coming out of my father’s nose.

  Oh, thank God. Brendan was the one who had thrown the punch, not my father.

  “You raped my little girl! She never would have defiled herself like that!” my father yelled as Brendan straddled his chest, pinning his arms down, and threw another punch.

  Wait. Just a minute ago, he was telling me how I was a whore who wanted it so badly that I would seduce my own father, but now he was saying I wouldn’t have defiled myself? What kind of game was he playing?

  Four police officers walked in the open door, and the reality of this situation came crashing down on me. My father had heard the sirens too. He’d known the police were coming. And Brendan was the only one without a scratch on him.

  He’d just set my fiancé up to get arrested for rape.

  Before I could say anything to the contrary, my father looked at the police officers, his entire demeanor changing in a split second. One second, he was maniacal and sadistic, and now he looked helpless and victimized.

  “Please help me, officers,” he sniveled. “This man kidnapped and raped my daughter and I walked in on him hurting her. I tried to pull him off of her, but he was too strong.”

  “No!” I screamed. “No, he didn’t!”

  “She’s confused,” my dad countered, continuing his charade. “I came here to take her back home. She’s only seventeen.”

  “No! He was protecting me!” I cried.

  The police officers pulled Brendan off of my father, and my father got up and rushed over to me, pulling me into his arms. This time, there was no stopping the bile that rose in my stomach, and I threw up all over him.

  Why weren’t the police listening to me? Why were they acting like Brendan was the one who was in the wrong here?

  Jesus, make them listen to me, I begged. Please, God, don’t let them take him away. I need him. Please.

  My father’s eyes hardened and he looked like he was about to spit fire as he looked down at the vomit on his arms and shirt, but instead of yelling at me or trying to hit me again, he kept up the charade.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, almost sounding human. “You don’t have to lie for him anymore. You can tell them what he did to you.”

  “Brendan didn’t do anything,” I sobbed. “He didn’t. He was trying to help me.”

  “Get her some help. Please. Can’t you see she’s hurt?” Brendan rasped, his voice thick with tears.

  “Don’t you worry. We’ll take real good care of her,” I heard one of the police officers mutter, and the sound of handcuffs clinking shut echoed in my ears. “I’m going to need you to come with me and answer some questions.”

  “You don’t have to restrain me, officer,” he said calmly. “I’ll come with you. Just please help her.”

  I leaned out of my father’s arms and looked at Brendan, and he half-smiled at me.

  “I’ll come meet you at the hospital as soon as I can, baby,” he tried to assure me, but I could see my heart-stopping terror mirrored in his eyes. “I love you.”

  “Okay, Romeo, let’s go,” the officer snapped, grabbing his arm and leading him toward the door.

  “Don’t arrest him,” I begged. “Please don’t arrest him. He didn’t hurt me.”

  More tears spilled over my cheeks as my pleas fell on deaf ears and two of the officers escorted the man I loved out the door in handcuffs. They were taking the man who was trying to protect me away and leaving me with the man who had been beating me to a bloody pulp. How was this protecting and serving?

  One of the remaining officers came over to us, and he looked at me and my father, then crouched down in front of us, smiling at me.

  “Can you tell me your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

  “Darla,” I choked out. “Darla Jones. Don’t arrest my fiancé. Please. He didn’t do anything. He was trying to help me.”

  “You can stop covering for him now, Darla,” my dad bit out, then looked at the police officer. “She’s still terrified, officer. She fell for his lies, and he coerced her away from our home and began physically and sexually abusing her. She’s only seventeen. They’re not engaged.”

  “No,” I insisted. “Brendan was trying to protect me. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Okay, Darla,” the officer said as he glanced back and forth between me and my fat
her. “Look, we’re going to get you and your dad to the hospital, and we’ll get statements from everyone involved. I’m going to call for medical assistance, okay?”

  He got up and walked away, and my dad looked back at me, the hard, evil stare back in his eyes as he lowered his face to within three inches of mine.

  “Say one more fucking word in that boy’s defense and I will cut that spawn out of you myself,” he hissed, low but deadly.

  Was he just completely unhinged? He was literally snapping back and forth between playing the doting, devastated father while the police were watching and threatening me the second their backs were turned. I was about to get whiplash trying to keep up with his apparent mood swings.

  “Help’s on the way, Darla,” the police officer said as he walked back over to us. “We’re going to get you and your dad to the hospital to get checked out. Sir, I’m sorry, but it is protocol to separate everyone involved in this kind of situation.”

  “I’m not leaving my daughter!” my father barked.

  “My partner’s going to stay with her. Let’s get you cleaned up and checked out, and we’ll get you both to the hospital.”

  “No,” my father growled at him. “I’m. Not. Fucking. Leaving. Her. I just got her back from that monster.”

  “Please,” I said weakly, too exhausted and afraid to say anything else.

  My father caught my eye again with the same murderous look in his eyes. And that one look told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t going to let me be alone with these officers or the doctors or medics or nurses for a single second. He knew I’d tell them everything as soon as I was alone with anyone, and he was going to do everything he possibly could to keep that from happening. He was going to use the fact that I was two weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday to prohibit them from questioning me alone, and he was going to use his profession as a well-known local minister to charm his way out of any accusations Brendan or I made against him.

  “Sir, can I get you to back away from her so I can check her out, please?” I heard a woman’s voice saying.

  I looked in the direction the voice had come from and saw a woman who looked like she was in her mid-twenties dressed in a paramedic’s uniform.

  “I’m. Staying. With. My. Daughter,” he repeated as he turned to glare at her.

  Her eyes widened, almost like she was terrified, and she took a couple of steps back from him.

  “You don’t have to leave this room. Just give me some space to work,” she said, her voice shaking just a little. “Let my partner take a look at you while I help your daughter.”

  With one last warning look, my father finally let go of me and stood up.

  “Can I get a towel to clean this vomit off of myself, please?” he bit out, shooting me another warning look.

  “I’ve got something in my bag,” a new voice said. “Come with me, sir.”

  The medic who had gotten him to back away knelt down next to me.

  “Darla,” she whispered. “Do you remember me?”

  I tried to think, but I was in so much pain that my brain was just a jumbled mess. I shook my head.

  “My name’s Allie. I used to go to your dad’s church. You were about twelve the last time I saw you.”

  Oh, my God. I did remember her. I remembered she was always nice to me, even though she was five years older than me, and she’d suddenly left church when I was in middle school. I tried to swallow down more tears, but I couldn’t, and a fresh sob tore out of my throat. I just wanted Brendan, but he was gone and I’d probably never see him again.

  “Can you tell me what hurts?” she asked me.

  “My right arm and the left side of my ribcage. And I’m pregnant. I’m scared for the baby,” I choked out.

  She lifted my arm and it fell limply at an odd angle as another jolt of agony shot through me, so she gently set it back down and grabbed what looked like a plastic splint out of her bag, sliding it under my arm and putting some gauze rolls on either side of my arm to immobilize it.

  “How far along are you?” she asked as she wrapped my splinted arm up.

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I just took the test yesterday.”

  “Are you having any cramping? Notice any bleeding?”

  I shook my head.

  She smiled. “That’s good. We’ll have someone check on the baby when we get to the hospital, okay?”

  I nodded, and more tears spilled over my cheeks.

  “Do you think you can stand up and get on the stretcher with my help?”

  “I can try,” I sniffled, groaning as pain shot through my side when I sat up.

  “Okay, I’m going to try to help you stand up. I want you to hold onto me as tightly as you need to with your good arm and help me as much as you can. Do not do anything with the arm I just wrapped.”

  She got on my left side and put my arm around her shoulder, then gripped me tightly as she slowly helped me to stand up. Maintaining her grip with one arm, she let go of me with the other and motioned someone over, I guessed with a stretcher.

  “I’ll find a way to help you,” she whispered. “I promise.”

  “They took Brendan away,” I whispered back. “He didn’t do anything. He was trying to help.”

  Allie nodded her understanding as she helped me onto the stretcher, and the other medic rolled me out the door and loaded me onto the ambulance. My father was already sitting on the bench, and an evil grin spread across his face as he watched them lock the stretcher in place and shut the back door.

  “I’m right here, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing my hand. “I’m not leaving your side, and I’m not going to let him hurt you ever again.”

  I just let more tears fall, not bothering to answer him.

  I’d been an idiot to think that I could ever get away from him. Freedom had been just within my grasp, but I should have known it wouldn’t last. I should have known my father would take everything from me and hurt anyone he had to hurt in the process before he ever let me slip out of his ironclad clutches.

  God, I’m trusting that You still have a plan for me, and for this baby, I prayed. Please help me. Help me get my father out of my life so I can raise this child in peace. And help Brendan. Help the officers see that he wasn’t the one who did this to me. I need him right now, Jesus. I can’t do this alone.

  Chapter 31

  Brendan

  What Have We Become?

  “Officer, I didn’t do this,” I said calmly as the beat cop who was old enough to be my father shoved me toward his cruiser. “You’re arresting the wrong person.”

  “Yeah, sure we are, tough guy,” he snarked as he opened the backseat door of his cruiser and pushed me inside. “You’re under arrest for assault and battery. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these right as I’ve read them to you?”

  “I. Didn’t. Hurt. Her,” I repeated.

  “Tell that to the judge. Do you understand your rights?” he growled.

  “Perfectly,” I clipped out. “I don’t need a lawyer, because I didn’t hurt my fiancée.”

  “Remember that right to remain silent? I really think you should exercise it,” he snapped as he slammed the car door shut.

  As the idiot police officer who couldn’t tell a lie when he heard one walked around to the driver’s side, I caught a glimpse of Darla’s car in the parking lot and immediately felt like I’d been punched in the gut…again. Looking at my broken and battered fiancée lying on the floor, curled up into a ball and trying to shield our unborn child from her psycho, unhinged father apparently wasn’t bad enough. Nope. Now I was being led away in handcuffs because said psycho had cried rape and pretended to be the doting father for five minutes. And I’d just realized how he’d even figured out where she was to begin with.

  It was so gl
aringly obvious, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured it out sooner. My mom had to have seen Darla’s car in the parking lot when she picked Nathan up last night and called Abraham. I knew Nathan wouldn’t have said anything about her being here even if my mom had pressed him, so that had to be it.

  God damn it. Why hadn’t I just taken her car to work this morning after she agreed to stay at my place for the day so we could talk when I got home? Maybe he would have just assumed she was gone if he’d shown up and her car wasn’t here. Maybe I could have prevented this whole mess from even happening.

  This was my fault. All of it. I should have known it was stupid to have her stay last night. Or I should have at least been smarter than to let her leave her car in the middle of the parking lot where anyone could see it.

  A few tears started trailing down my cheeks as we pulled up to the police station, and I moved my arms to wipe them free before I remembered that I couldn’t because they were secured behind my back. I had absolutely no choice but to let them fall, showing this asshole of a police officer and his apparently mute partner all of my pain and despair. But maybe at least my anguish would convince them that I couldn’t have done this.

  “Let’s go!” the officer barked as he yanked on my arm to get me out of the cruiser.

  “You don’t have to force me, officer. I’m not resisting,” I said calmly.

  Everything in me was telling me to yell and scream and tell this asshat that he was a fucking moron if he couldn’t see that Darla’s father was the one who was hurting her, but I knew that wouldn’t get me anywhere. It would get even more charges added onto this bogus arrest. My best hope of helping her was getting someone in this police station to listen to me and call the officers who were still with Darla and Abraham at the hospital.

  The officer shoved me through the door of the police station and then kept pushing me through the squad room toward what I was assuming to be the interview room. I tried to keep my head down and not to show how frustrated I was with this situation, because with the officer being this antagonistic, I didn’t want to make the situation any more volatile.