“You’re scared.” When I didn’t respond, he sighed. “Sara, if you’re scared tell me now. I can be over there in a heartbeat–”
“No,” I interrupted. “That would make things worse. He would explode and take it out on her. Just talk to me.”
“About what?”
“About anything.”
I heard heavy creaks just outside the door. I huddled into the corner, pulling my knees to my chest, watching the door. I couldn’t stop shaking, and my bladder suddenly felt heavy. No. Surely not. He could not make me wet my bed at seventeen years of age!
The door rattled.
“Jaxon,” I whimpered, “are you there?”
“I’m here,” he said softly. “What’s happening, Sara?”
I jumped at the sudden loud bang against the bedroom door.
“Still got this door locked, eh, little thing?” he roared. “Open it right now! You’re going to get your lazy ass up and help your whore of a mother clean up that fucking mess! RIGHT NOW!”
“Sara?”
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move either. For some reason I thought that not making one bit of noise would somehow embed me into the wall and the monster would forget all about me. He didn’t. Instead, he began ramming into the door, screaming for me to open it, cursing at the top of his lungs that I would be sorry if I didn’t. I looked around the room as if expecting an invisible door to show up out of thin air to whisk me away.
By the fourth slam, the lock cracked and the door swung open. His tall, wide frame took up the doorway. He was seething in anger, panting deeply as the cords in his throat thickened.
“Sara?” Jaxon sounded really concerned now, but he was barely audible in my ear. I faintly heard the sound of keys jingling on his end.
The monster raced forward, and I closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself for his violent onslaught. He screamed for me to get up, but then picked me up sharply by the arm, squeezing me tightly. He whipped the phone out of my hand and threw it against the wall, knocking the plaster off with it. He brought me forward, so close to his face I could smell the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath.
“Stupid little slut like your mother. Bet you’re just as easy as her too, huh?” He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and yanked down hard. I flew forward, only managing to not completely fall because of his other tight grip around my arm. The back of my neck stung.
He dragged me out of the bedroom, and it was only near the stairwell that I began to wake up. He couldn’t do this to me. How dare he! Why should I allow him the control?
“Get your hands off of me!” I found myself screaming. “I’ll call the fuckin’ cops, you sick fuck!”
I shouldn’t have said that. Not when I was at the top of the stairwell. He shoved me and I fell hard, face first, tumbling down them like a bag of bones. Pain erupted everywhere, but mostly to my right shoulder and head. Everything went black for a few seconds, and my head felt like it was swimming. I blinked my eyes open, and the searing pain grew worse by the second.
Before I could even recover myself, he was over me, screaming incoherent words into my ears. I was too dizzy to understand and my vision was blurry. I felt my body being forced up, dragged again by his tight grip on my arm into the hallway. I was shoved back down and felt sharp pieces of glass beneath me.
Mom cried harder from somewhere, but made no move to me. He screamed, “Clean it up, bitch! Clean it up!” over and over again.
Screams and cries filled my ears, and then the sound of a nearby door opening. Hands suddenly wrapped around my waist and pulled me up. There was nothing rough about these ones.
“Sara?” Jaxon’s voice filled my ears. Was he really here? Or was I imagining it?
The monster screamed at him to get out of his house, shoving Jaxon back so suddenly, I would have fallen if he didn’t have me tightly wrapped in his arms. He walked us back, shouting something at the monster before sitting me down at the bottom of the stairs.
Still dizzy, I looked up in time to see two Jaxons moving dangerously close to the monster. He was shorter than him, but broader, stronger, and not at all intoxicated. “Don’t you ever dare touch her again,” Jaxon growled. “You’re a worthless piece of shit.”
The monster went to clock Jaxon for the insult. He dodged it and before I knew it, he shoved the monster against the wall and returned his own punch, hitting him hard against the face. Repeatedly. Blood erupted from the monster’s face, and Mom screamed for Jaxon to stop. I felt sick by the tone of her concern for the prick.
When he was done with him, the monster was lying flat on his back, unconscious.
Hands went on me again. “Get up, Sara. You’re coming with me. Let’s pack some shit first.”
I was beyond rattled as we hurried up the stairs to my bedroom. I was so slow and dizzy. He was practically hauling me up there himself. I showed him into the room and he turned on the light. Instantly his face fell at the sight of my room: a mattress in the corner, a tiny night table with some of my things, and the clothing rack where I kept the few clothes I had.
“God, Sara,” he muttered sadly. “I didn’t think it was this bare.”
He’d never seen my bedroom until then. It was the one thing I’d never wanted him to see. I didn’t want his pity.
“Grab some clothes and things you need, like for school and shit. Hurry before that animal wakes up.”
*****
Without the opportunity to say anything to my mother who was sprawled over my unconscious father in tears, I left with a suitcase of my belongings, and we made it back to Jaxon’s house without interruptions. He carried my bag in, throwing it randomly on the floor before returning to the car to help me out. He treated me as if I was a wounded baby animal, delicately holding me close to him as he brought me up to his room.
He sat me down on the bed and then grabbed a glass of water, some painkillers and a wet rag. Turning on the light, he sat next to me and watched me down the pills.
Silence filled the air for ages until my head finally cleared and I was a lot calmer.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Should I get Mom?” he asked me tentatively.
I looked at him and saw a face I never came across often: a sad Jaxon Barlow. There was so much emotion flooding out of his eyes, like a torchlight emitting a shine of deep pity for me.
I hated it.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I glowered at him.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m that poor Ugly Sara everyone used to laugh at.”
“I’m not laughing, Sara.”
I sighed. “Don’t get your mother. I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re in pain. You’ve got bruises on your arms already.” He lightly stroked my arm, and I looked down at where he was touching and saw the deep redness in my skin. It was going to be ugly tomorrow. “What’s hurting the most? Maybe I can help.”
“My shoulder and head,” I muttered, looking away from his penetrating eyes. “But I’ll be okay.”
He was royally pissed. “I’m half tempted to go back there and beat seven more shades of shit out of him. How fucking dare he touch you.”
“It’s fine.” I shrugged and drank the rest of my water before setting it down. “I was stupid to think I could be there. I shouldn’t be surprised the first night he’s back the shit storm followed with him. You were right to tell me not to go back.”