Protect Me: Oakville Series:Book Three (4 page)

“Dinner smells and looks great, Holly,” Ray compliments. I smile as best I can, trying to keep him happy.

“Thank you. I know it’s your favorite.” I know I should’ve been gone when he came home. I know the chances this will happen again are high. But where would I go and how would I get there? I have no one to run to and no money to get me there even if I did. I’m stuck and he knows it.

I
ROLL
over in my bed, pulling the pillow over my head to try to drown out the shouting coming from downstairs. My stomach twists into knots. Knots so tight I think my insides might burst at any moment. There’s no chance of escaping the sounds.

“Why do you make me do this?” my father roars. Of course, there’s no reply from my mom. She knows anything more than reacting to the pain will only make things worse, so she takes every punch and kick in silence. This has been going on my whole life, but it used to be only once or twice a year. Lately, it’s all the time and worse than ever before. I don’t know how much more I can take. For sixteen years, I’ve been watching my dad beat my mom. As I got older, I started to intervene, which only caused him to turn on me. I’ve begged and pleaded with her to leave him, but she always has an excuse — her biggest being how much she loves him.

So, here I lay, trying to make a choice. Do I stay up here knowing he’s down stairs using my mom like a punching bag or do I go downstairs to protect my mom and allow him to beat on me instead? My dad is shorter than I am and after a night of drinking, I could take him with one hand tied behind my back. But I still can’t bring myself to hit my own father, which has to make me all kinds of fucked up. This man beats on me and my mom and I don’t have the balls to hit him back. He still makes me feel like that little scared seven year old just trying to stop his mommy from being hurt. The same mommy who stays with the man who hurts her and her child. I’m always torn in two. I want to hate them both for the agony they’ve put me through for sixteen years. For not allowing me the happy childhood I deserved. At the same time, I love them. They’re my parents. I would rather take the beating than debate this dilemma. The beating is easier.

My mom screams out in pain and I instantly react. I’ll always choose to protect her first, no matter the consequences. She used to be so happy and full of life. Now, after all these years of torture, she’s just a frightened shell of the woman she once was. He’s destroyed her. And they’ve destroyed me. If this is what it’s like to be in love, I’m never letting it happen to me. A man who thinks he has the right to do whatever he pleases to the woman he loves. A woman who will sit back and take the abuse, saying she loves him too much to leave. I don’t understand intentionally wanting to hurt someone you claim to love. Shouldn’t you want to protect them with everything you are?

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I notice it’s gotten quiet. Too quiet. My pulse starts to pick up. A small amount of blood on the hardwood floor catches my eye as I enter the living room. Bile rises in my throat, threatening to choke me. I’ve always worried that one day he would go too far and kill her, maybe even me. I stand there, frozen in place, too afraid to venture into the kitchen. What if my worst fear has come true? All these years of trying to save her. All of the bruises and broken bones I’ve taken in her place. What was it all for? So he can just kill us all one day? I can’t live like this anymore. It’s obviously I’m not reason enough to make her leave and at some point, no matter how much it will kill me, I have to think of myself. My sanity. If we survive tonight, I’ll beg her to leave with me one more time, but no matter what her choice is, I’m gone.

Another scream comes from the kitchen and my feet are suddenly in motion again. Sweat is dripping from my forehead. The rapid thumping of my heart is deafening. I have no idea what I’m walking into. For a split second, I think of grabbing my things, running out the door, and never looking back. Saving myself. But that goddamn protector in me won’t allow it. Sometimes I really hate that I can’t be a selfish bastard like my father.

Rounding the corner, I’m immobilized by the sight in front of me. My mom is sitting in a chair at the table, my father standing in front of her repeatedly bashing her in the head with a wooden rolling pin. The smell of blood and the sound of the rolling pin making contact with her skull is making me nauseous. In my head, I see myself running full force into him and just hitting him over and over again until he’s the one bleeding on the floor. I wish I had the courage to do it.

“Stop it! Please!” I stammer, still unable to move any closer. The rolling pin stops inches away from her head and he slowly turns his icy gaze to me.

“Boy, I never pegged you for stupid. I thought you would’ve learned not to interfere by now. You know how this works. I’m gonna come over there and beat you silly, then I’ll be right back over here to finish up on your momma. Why don’t you turn around now and save yourself some hurt,” he sneers. He’s right. My interference only gives her a brief reprieve. He knows I won’t hit back and when I pass out, he goes right back to her. I glance over at my mother and cringe. Her eye is swollen shut. Her nose is clearly broken, pointing to the left. Even through her swollen lips and blood, I can see teeth are missing. She sees me watching her and slumps down into the chair. He notices and it fuels his rage a little more. He grabs her by the chin and lifts her head.

“Don’t get comfy, bitch! I’m nowhere near finished with you. Looks like your little pussy of a son wants to get his ass kicked for a while. I gave him a chance to walk away, but it looks like he is just as stupid as you are. Neither one of you will ever learn no matter how hard I beat the lesson into you,” he rants with an evil smirk on his face. In his sick, twisted mind, he truly believes what he’s doing is okay. There’s no remorse at all. In his eyes, we are the ones who deserve every blow he gives.

Something inside me snaps. Like a switch being flipped on, the fear I always feel when his sights are turned to me is gone and replaced with a rage so strong, my entire body trembles. Fear flashes in his eyes, fueling my rage even more. I lunge forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt with my left hand. I use my right hand to punch him square in the nose with as much strength as I can. The sickly sound of his nose breaking mixed with the coppery smell of the blood spilling out from it makes me smile. I smile because it feels good to finally find the courage to fight back. I smile because seeing the terrified look on his face and knowing he’s getting a glimpse of what we’ve felt all these years is a little satisfying. And I smile because when I’m finished, this son of a bitch will never lay another hand on me ever again.

Before I know it, my father is curled up in a heap on the kitchen floor. It’s so fitting seeing as my mother and I have looked like that more times than I can count. I have no idea how or even why I stopped pounding on him, but I wish I would have done this years ago. I turn my attention to mom. She needs medical attention and the emergency room isn’t an option. It comes with too many questions she’ll refuse to answer. That only leaves the free clinic downtown. They see this type of shit all the time. They don’t bother to ask questions they already know the answers to. I gently get her to the car and drive to the clinic.

After four hours at the clinic, we are on our way home. A broken nose, mild concussion, and tons of cuts and bruises are what the monster left her with this time. As long as she stays, there will be a next time and it will most likely be worse. We both need to leave him and start over — try to be happy again. We pull into the driveway and I turn off the engine. Neither one of us makes a move to exit the car. You never know what to expect when walking through those front doors. I don’t think there has ever been a time when I haven’t been scared to enter my house. The one place that should make me feel safe and happy is the place that breeds all my worst nightmares.

“Mom, please leave with me. We can start over and never have to worry about him hurting us again,” I beg. When I hear her sniffle, I turn to look at her. She’s staring at the house as tears stream steadily down her face. I know her answer before she says a word.

“I love you more than anything, son. Please always remember that. I know I’m weak and I never protected you the way a mother should’ve. I’ve never been able to stand up to him even when he was hurting you. For that, I’m so sorry,” she sobs. I reach over and hold her hand. I know she loves me and would’ve protected me if she could. I can’t blame her for being weak when it comes to him. I was, until today. “I know you can’t understand my reasoning, but I have to stay. You don’t. As much as I love you, Paul, I need you to go. I want you to have a life without the fear and pain. I want you to have the life I never did.”

She reaches in her purse and pulls out a small paper bag. For the first time, she faces me. Her eyes look so tired and sad. She hands me the bag then reaches over and hugs me tight. Why does it feel like this is the last time I’ll ever see her again? That thought causes my tears to flow and at the moment I don’t care. We both hold each other as tight as we can. As if we’re hanging on for dear life.

“I’ve packed a bag for you. It’s in the trunk. Take it and don’t look back. Don’t ever look back. Forget about me and this hell you once called home. Please, Paul, I need to know you can do that for me,” she pleads. How can I just walk away knowing she’s here and what she’s going through? “It’s time to save yourself and for me to be the mother I should have been a long time ago. You need to get out, Paul, and don’t come back.” Hugging me one last time, she gets out of the car and gets my bag from the trunk. I meet her at the back of the car, tears streaming completely unchecked down my cheeks.

“I love you, Mom,” I sputter in between sobs.

“I know, baby. I love you, too. You are the only thing that’s ever brought me happiness. Now, go and don’t come back.” She kisses my cheek and walks into the house. I stand there for what feels like hours, trying to decide whether I can really leave her behind. Finally, I glance to the house one more time before turning and hauling ass as fast as I can away from the hell I used to call home.