Always The Hero

by Callahan, Kelli

  I pushed him away, screamed, and hurried to the other side of the room, grabbing one of the boards in my hands to defend myself. The wood rubbed against my palms, leaving splinters, but I refused to have a knife come at me.

  Something about knives….

  “Stay away,” I said. “You said no hurt. No hurt!” I screamed, swinging the heavy two by four back and forth. My eyes stayed locked on the knife, waiting for him to come at me.

  “Abigail, I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you. Put down the beam,” he urged. Of course he would try and get me defenseless.

  But like I said before, I wasn’t stupid. Disappointment sank into me, weighing down my chest. Logan had been able to do something no one had been able to do in a year.

  He made me believe in expectations because, for just one second, he was better than everyone else I had ever come across. He came here to kick me out, but the knife on his hip told me otherwise.

  Logan wanted to hurt me.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Abigail.” His eyes were sad as he stared at me, hands up like before, and slowly inching toward me. “I’m never going to hurt you. Please, believe me.”

  “Don’t. No.” I waved the heavy piece of lumber at him, and he jumped back to miss the hit it would give his shoulder. I hadn’t lifted anything this heavy in a long time. My arms were getting tired. They felt light, like jello. “Don’t come near me.”

  “Abigail.” The way he said my name, the deepening of his voice, the hurt and confusion laced in my name almost made me lower my weapon, but the knife spoke volumes to me. It threatened me. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I would never hurt anybody. If I had to, it would be in self-defense. That is what this knife was for, but I thought you were a man. I’d never use it on a woman. I can give it to you if you want—”

  “No!” I was shaking at this point. I felt that horrible, nauseating feeling again, the one I had a year ago. “Get away.”

  “Okay,” he took a step back. “Okay, let’s take a deep breath, alright? No need for anyone to get hurt because of a misunderstanding.”

  I glanced to the door, eyeing my exit. I just needed to get away from him, but then my stuff… I would have to leave it behind, and I didn’t want to. I worked too hard to keep all of it together, to collect the belongings I needed to survive.

  I started over once; I could do it again. My flight or fight response kicked in, and the will to live took over. I charged at Logan and swung the weapon in the air and smacked him over the head.

  He fell to the ground and groaned, clutching the wound on his head that bled, and another memory came back to the surface. It was fuzzy, but my hand touched the smooth scar on the back of my head, still a bit sensitive, and when I brought my hand in front of my face, flashes of blood flipped on and off on my hand like a light switch.

  I dropped the piece of lumber and ran out the door, away from the man that wanted to hurt me. Logan called for me, and the part of my soul that trusted him yearned for me to go back, told me to go back, but the fear won. I kept putting one foot in front of the other as fast as I could. I jumped off the porch and landed on the cold grass in the front yard. My toes dug into the dirt, and now my clean body was filthy again.

  “Abigail!” Logan called out for me, but I had to get away.

  I had to be safe. They were coming for me. If I didn’t run, I would die. I jumped down from the yard to the road, and I winced from the discomfort the pavement brought. Small rocks jabbed into the pads of my feet, but pain or not, I had to keep going, I had to keep running, the further I got, the safer I became.

  My lungs burned from the exertion. Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped down into my eyes. It stung. Something ran down my cheek, either tears or sweat, I didn’t know anymore. I had to get away from my worst nightmare.

  I ran until I came upon my favorite spot. It was a small bridge by the water. I ducked my head, so I didn’t hit it on the concrete and then sat down, tucking my legs to my chest. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I laid my head down and wept.

  Life wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

  Chapter Five

  Logan

  I somehow managed to pick up my phone and dialed the last person I spoke with. I wasn’t about to call an ambulance, but I felt like I needed someone here. I flopped onto my back, tossing my arm over my eyes and moaned from how heavy my head felt. There was blood, but not a lot. My cheek hurt worse than anything. My pulse thrived underneath the swollen skin, and I wondered if the bone was broke.

  She packed a wallop in that skinny body. I didn’t even see the blow coming. I thought she was threatening me, protecting herself, I never thought she’d actually hit me.

  “Jesus. What the fuck happened to you?” Haden, Godrick’s best friend, and business partner asked as he stood inside the bedroom doorway. “I brought the ice like you wanted.” The floors creaked under his weight and it had me removing my arm from my face to see if he was about to break it. “Holy fuck, who did this to you? Do we need to call the cops?”

  “No. Help me up, would you?” I held out my hand, and Haden propped me up against the wall, lightly pressing the ice pack against my cheek. I hissed, but then the cold seeped into the pain I sighed.

  “You might need to go to the doctor. You have a cut on your head too.” I noticed him look around, and he stared at the bag on the floor. “I’ve seen that bag. Where did you get that? And what happened?”

  I sighed, closed my eyes, and remembered her face. Abigail was so sacred, and when she hit me upside the head, a part of her wasn’t there anymore, not the part I slowly got to know. The moment she saw my knife, everything changed.

  Never in my life had I ever connected with someone the way I connected with her. It was obvious she hated to speak, but I didn’t understand why. Her voice was low and soft, unused, and raspy. It had a smokey sound, like an old blues singer, and I loved it. She never had to talk again if she didn’t want to. Something told me, I’d be able to know what she thought, what she wanted, needed, without her ever saying another word again.

  “Hey, you okay?” Haden snapped his fingers in front of me. “I need to know what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, sorry. My head is killing me.”

  “No, shit. Being hit in the head by a piece of wood would do that to you.” He sat down next to me and reached for the backpack.

  That protectiveness swelled up again, and I snatched it out of his hand. “That doesn’t belong to you.”

  He lifted a brow at me. “It doesn’t belong to you either. I’ve seen that bag. I gave a girl a muffin and water with twenty bucks this morning, and she had that bag.”

  “You saw her?” I rubbed my thumb over her name, missing her. It sounded insane. I just met her, and I knew nothing about her, but my soul tasted what it was like to feel whole for the first time, and I wanted more of that feeling.

  “Yeah, she was on the street with a sign that said she only needed ten bucks. I gave her my card to see if I could help her some more, but I never heard from her.”

  Jealousy was a mean bastard, and it had no part here, not when my friend did something kind, but that irrational side of me wanted to choke Haden. The only person Abigail needed was me. I pushed it aside though, not having the energy to fight about it. “I got a call from one of the members of my crew saying they thought a squatter was staying here, so I came to check it out. I came ready to give the person food, water, and take them to a hotel, but then I saw her and at first everything was fine. We talked a bit, well, I talked, she listened, but it was fine.”

  “So what happened?” he asked.

  “She saw the knife on my hip, and she changed. I don’t think she even knew where she was at. She saw me as the enemy. I’m not even mad at her. She did what she thought she had to.”

  “I’d be a little mad. Half your face is purple.”

  I snorted, wincing when my smile only brought more pain. “Yeah, the pain sucks, I won’t lie about that.”
>
  “She’s young. What do you think happened?”

  “I have no idea, Haden. She has a scar on the back of her head; I’d assume it had something to do with that.”

  “You could call the cops. She assaulted you,” Haden pointed out. “Pretty badly too.”

  I rolled my eyes; a bit insulted that he would ever think I’d do that to a woman, especially a woman who felt like she needed to protect herself. “No, I’d never do that. Plus, who are they going to believe? I’d just get myself in trouble. I don’t want to do that anyway. I have a feeling she doesn’t do well around people.”

  “Why do you care?”

  That was the big question. I didn’t know why I cared, but all I knew was that I had to find her and make sure she was safe. I had to see her again, but how? What if she didn’t come back. “I care because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “So it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s a pretty girl?” he asked, nudging my shoulder.

  Everyone who said they weren’t interested in someone and believed it had nothing to do with looks, were liars. The first thing people noticed about others were their looks and if they were attractive. Abigail had everything I loved about a woman— long brown hair, brown eyes, plush looking lips— but it was what on the inside that made my curiosity peak.

  She was different from any woman I had ever met. I wanted to be the person she could count on because I had a feeling she hadn’t met anyone that she could yet. I wanted to get underneath the surface and figure out what made her, her.

  The ice melted and the plastic bag held nothing but water now. I place it on the floor along with her bag. What would she do? This was all she had. “Sure, she’s pretty, but I want to get to know her better. Think she will come back for her stuff?”

  “I know homeless people are pretty attached to their belongings. I’d bet she’d come back. I don’t know when, but probably when she thinks you aren’t here.”

  “Oh, I’ll be here,” I said with determination, and the next time I saw her, I’d make sure that it would be the last time she ever had to worry about needing a place to stay because she’d be with me now. If that was the case, I really needed to get this house together and soon, but if she was going to come back for her things, the crew couldn’t be here.

  If I wanted, I could get the bedroom ready. It was almost done anyway, it only needed floors, to be cleaned, and a bed. For food, I could get a mini−fridge, a microwave, and a tv. Making her feel comfortable was the most important thing.

  “Well, not that I don’t want you to be happy, Logan, but what are you doing to do with a woman who is homeless? I mean, what kind of future could you ever have with someone like her? Aren’t you in love with Maria?”

  So much about that sentenced pissed me off. If half my face didn’t feel like it was on fire, I would have tackled him to the ground. I found every single word insulting. Just because people are down on their luck and found themselves homeless, didn’t mean they didn’t have anything to contribute to the world. And Maria, Jesus Christ, I was sick of hearing about Maria. It was something that was never going to go away unless I moved on to someone else.

  Maria and I had never been physical. We had never kissed, held hands, hugged, had sex, or whatever else. Would it be easy to give into it? Yes, but would it be good for me? No.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that because you sounded like a real asshole, and since I’ve gotten to know you, I think you’re a good guy. Maria is able to date whoever she wants. I’m not in love with her. For a while, I was in lust with her, but love? No. She has that with Cortez, and I want that, I just don’t want it with her.” Saying the words out loud to someone made me feel better. I only ever said the truth in my head before.

  “Damn, I never thought I’d see the day where Logan would stop being obsessed with Maria.”

  “I was never obsessed with her. If anything, she was obsessed with me, and if I didn’t know any better, she still is. She gets too close, and I know if I was Cortez, I would want to kill me.”

  Haden patted my leg and stood up; he was so tall, his head almost touched the ceiling. “I’m sure it is nothing. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Maria is…” If I wasn’t mistaken, his lips twitched with a smile from her name. “Maria is different. She’s a handful, a little mix of wild and confusion. What man wouldn’t like that?” he asked as if his answer was obvious.

  I raised my hand over my head and pushed myself up to a standing position. “I don’t like it. Are you going to help me find Abigail or not?” I wanted to change the subject. Maria always found her way into my conversations with everyone, and I was tired of it. My life was more than her, especially when I had nothing to do with her life. How the hell did she make her way into mine?

  “Abigail? The homeless girl?” Haden asked. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sorry about that. I really want to help her; it was why I gave her my card. I was still a little judgmental, and I don’t know her story, so I apologize.” He held out his hand, and without hesitation, I shook it, not giving it another thought.

  “I appreciate it.” I wanted to look for her right now. I’d look all night if I had to, but for all I knew, she was waiting in the bushes to see if I’d leave so she could get her stuff. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Godrick can draw.”

  I rolled up her blankets and stuffed them in her bag. “Okay?” I wasn’t too sure where he was going with this.

  “I’m saying, Godrick can draw. Tell him what she looks like, and then we can put up a Missing Person’s flyer and maybe notify the police. We put your name and address on it—”

  “I don’t have my own place. I mean, I want this house, but it is only half ready. “

  “So? It’s just an idea, come on. Take her stuff too.”

  “Why?” I asked. “She is going to need it.” I worried about her enough out there on her own, and now she didn’t have any of the things that brought her comfort.

  “Because once she has that, she is going to be traveling and you might not ever see her again. Keep the bag, Logan. You’ll be glad that you did. Now, let’s get to Godrick, and he can draw her while Lucy bitches at you for hanging out with someone you don’t know.”

  I groaned, dreading that conversation. She was going to rip me a new asshole while poking at my cheek just because she could. “My head already hurts,” I told him, swinging the bag over my shoulder. Lucy was going to fuss and raise hell. “Maybe I should lie and say I fell. I don’t want Lucy to have a bad impression of Abigail. The only person that really understands the entire situation is me.”

  “You’re right. It’s up to you. Will you lie to your sister over someone you just met?”

  Well, shit. When he put it like that, it made it sound bad.

  But yes, yes I would. Lucy was the most important person in my life; if she didn’t like Abigail because she was protective over me, then being happy with Abigail would be impossible.

  I already had a mountain to climb with the woman I just met, and I didn’t need anyone making it any harder than it needed to be.

  Chapter Six

  Abigail

  Water rushed, flowing against rocks angrily. The cold water splashed on me, waking me up in the early morning. Fog rolled in, a thick sheet over the river, and I stretched my arms above my head, yawning. My skin was cold to the touch, and when I looked down, I saw that I had my nightgown on.

  “Oh no,” I whispered to myself, realizing that I left all of my things at the house, where Logan was.

  Logan.

  That man did something to me. It was hard to explain, and putting it into words was too difficult, but he made me feel something else, something besides bad.

  It was good.

  Now that my head was clear, I remembered everything from last night, and I was embarrassed and guilty. I hit him, hard, with a piece of wood. What if I killed him?

  I gasped from the thought and the image of him lying on
the floor, cold, dead, and alone. The image switched from him to someone else, a man lying in a pool of blood, and the house was different. That familiar sharp pain in my head pierced right through my skull, and I stumbled, my shoulder slamming against the side of the bridge.

  Hissing, the skin peeled back, and trickles of blood dripped down my arm.

  Blood.

  No, I couldn’t go down that road again. I needed to go back and get my bag and then maybe I’d get out of this state and start walking, somewhere that was anywhere but here. Pushing off the wall with a sore foot, I took a hard right up the small hill that was wet with morning dew instead of staying on the sidewalk. This way was shorter. My legs protested, weak from the lack of muscle and nutrition.

  Once I climbed up from the bottom of the bridge, the fog thinned since I wasn’t as close to the water now. When I got to the top of the bridge, I leaned against the thick ropes that are attached to the bridge and took a breather.

  I looked left and right down the suburban street. White picket fences, trimmed hedges, trashcans are aligned on every driveway, and everyone waved to one another as they passed by. It reminded me of how out of place I really was. I didn’t belong here. I wondered if someone like me belonged anywhere.

  Crossing my arms to keep myself warm, I headed toward the house where everything I thought I felt changed in a blink of an eye. My feet ached, and my spirit was tired. I only wanted one good night of sleep, and I could have had that last night if it wasn’t for Logan.

  No, that wasn’t fair. I couldn’t blame Logan. Blaming anyone other than myself would be inconsiderate. I was capable of turning my life around; the only thing that stopped me was that I had no idea how.

  What could I offer when I learned a new word every day that everyone else knew? Why would someone hire me, someone that took double the amount of time to say or write something down compared to someone who could do it in seconds? Why would someone hire me, spend time teaching me, when there was a chance, I’d wake up tomorrow and remember nothing?