Charming (23 page)

“I will, sir. Thank you.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.” He closed the door, and Haley slipped from the edge of the bed, biting her lip to hold back screams as the full impact of Dad’s abuse rippled through every muscle.

She wheeled the IV stand around the room until she found her clothes and cell phone in a clear plastic bag in a cabinet at the back, then sat on a visitor’s couch, wincing, and stared. So much blood. Dark red stains covered the sleeves of her cut-up shirt. Her jeans were a polka-dot assortment of drops and splatters. Haley’s blood.

Dad tried to kill me
.

Ignoring her protesting ribs, Haley rocked back and forth.

Tried to kill me
.

Kill. Not hurt. Kill.

To save
her
.

Dad wanted to kill one daughter to save another, because one daughter looked like Mom. Because one daughter fucked everything up. Because one daughter wasn’t good enough.

Keep moving, Haley. Fix this.

She returned the clothes to the bag and set the phone on the plastic cushion next to her leg, then grabbed the sweats and went into the small bathroom with her IV stand, cursing that no one thought to bring shoes.

Haley yanked off the gown, then pressed the material to her hand.

One.

Two.

Three.

She pulled the IV out of her hand, applied pressure for a minute or two, then laid out the clothes on the sink. Under any other circumstances, she would have called for someone to help. The stitches pulled and burned. Her wrapped ribs ached and made Haley gasp for breath every time she moved more than an inch or two in any direction. And the black eye… well, that didn’t effect changing clothes, but seeing the swollen skin, the cut, the dried blood in her greasy, tangled hair and knowing that Dad did this… Haley struggled to hold back tears, struggled to slip the shirt over her head and pull on the pants.

Five minutes passed, ten. She peeked around the door into the hallway. Nurses rushed around pushing carts with computers on them, carrying needles, charts, cups of coffee. Busy. They were all so busy, and no one glanced her way, so Haley walked down the hall as though she were a visitor, pushed the button for the elevator, then pushed the L and Door Close button over and over and over.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The doors opened, and the exit was right there. Right there. One step. Two. Don’t run. Three steps. Four. Cold air poured in as a man pushed a very pregnant woman in a wheelchair into the hospital. Haley broke into the fastest run she could without giving into the pain—or looking like an escaped convict.

She made it outside, glanced back at the red brick building, then took off. Several cars littered the parking lot, even though the clock in her room had indicated 10:00 p.m. Hospitals never slept, never quieted. Too bad this one didn’t have a cab service—or free shoes.

Haley had a long, long way to walk, and the night air seeped through her socks, into her bloodstream. Shivering, she pulled out the cell and called Christine.

Lots of ringing. No answer.

Haley hung up and scrolled through the contacts until she reached Niles’s number. “Oh God.”

Niles was with the psycho, kidnapped. Missing.

She dialed Chris. Hopefully he’d found it somewhere in his heart to forgive Haley. Walking eleven miles without shoes, with these injuries, in this cold… out of the question.

“You’ve reached Chris Charming. Leave a message.”

Walking it is
.

Breath clouded before Haley’s face. An occasional car approached, slowed, then kept going. Who would pick up a shoeless girl off the side of the road? She’d be lucky to make it back to South Deerfield without being arrested.

Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. Haley’s fingers turned blue, and every bone ached, screamed with pain, and her stomach twisted as she dry-heaved several times. Weak, shaking uncontrollably, she tried Christine again, Chris… finger hovered over Gran’s number…

Not that desperate.

Leaves crunched under the weight of Haley’s steps and stuck to the bottom of her socks. Dogs barked out warnings as she stumbled too close to houses. An hour, or maybe two, later, Haley entered an older part of town without sidewalks and had to squeeze between the road and thick bushes lining it.

Haley dry-heaved again and collapsed on the grass, her head too heavy to hold up. She could sleep here, die here.

Brakes squeaked, a car honked, and the motor of a window hummed. “Need help?”

She half-heartedly lifted her middle finger, then dropped her hand back to the freezing grass. “Fuck off.”

This man didn’t deserve anger, but anger welled within and sought release. She needed Christine or Chris—not some stranger on the side of the street—but, apparently, they were too busy to answer their phones.

“Really, Miss Tremaine?”

Haley peered through her lashes. A light-gold Honda Civic idled at the curb. “Who are you?”

“Let me turn on the light for you.” He did, and Haley crawled to her knees. “That better?”

“Todd. I mean, Officer Lyttle.” She worked to stand, ready to run if necessary—if possible. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Don’t be. I imagine you’ve taken quite a bit of abuse from other drivers, given the state of their frantic calls to 9-1-1.” Officer Lyttle laughed, then leaned over and opened the door. “Get in. You must be in a ton of pain, runner.”

Get in and be taken back to the hospital, to caseworkers and misery and things Haley wasn’t ready to face yet, or keep walking, keep running? Keep playing the role of victim perfectly? Except, she wasn’t anymore. This was taking charge. She had to get the evidence to police. Had to.

“Look, I won’t call you in or take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

Warnings shot off in her belly, threatening to return Haley to her knees, vomiting. “Why?”

Todd was tall and thin and had light skin. He could be the psycho.
He could—oh, great, Haley, that about describes every man in Deerfield, and you’ve known Todd for years.

“Because no one will ever be able to help you until you’re ready to help yourself.”

A car pulled up behind the Civic, and the driver laid on the horn. Officer Lyttle stuck his hand out the window and waved the driver around.

He pointed at the seat. “Get in before you freeze to death.”

“You promise not to take me in?” Haley chewed at the swelling on her bottom lip. “I have things I need to take care of.”

“I promise. But will you promise me something?”

Step closer to the car. Try not to fall. “Maybe.”

“Promise me that when whatever you’re going through is all over that you’ll surround yourself with people who know what it means to be family, people who won’t take easy ways out and leave you alone.”

Haley sunk into the seat, moaning from the comforting warmth of heated leather, and tried not to let Officer Lyttle’s request freak her out. Could she do it? If they all miraculously survived this, could Haley leave Dad? Could she come clean with Joce and ever wear a smile again after tearing her family apart? Haley glanced at the stitches running the length of her arms and knew no matter what the future held, it would be full of change. “I promise.”

“Thank you, for choosing yourself over others. It’s a tough lesson to learn. Sometimes it takes tragedy to make us realize how important
we
are, how we can’t allow others to hurt us, control our lives, or steal our happiness with callous decisions. I take it your father—”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m giving you a ride, free of charge and imprisonment. Hear me out?”

“Fine.” No way would Haley get out and walk again. No freaking way.

“Any time someone hurts you—directly or indirectly—defend yourself. I’m not talking about physical confrontations, more like payback.”

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, or don’t you believe that?” Haley smiled.

“Maybe when I was younger and foolish. Not now.” Todd turned on his blinker and cast a sideways glance at Haley. “One more thing?”

Would he take no for an answer? “Sure.”

“Don’t ever allow him to hit you again.”

“I won’t.”

“Then I’m done talking.”

He remained quiet—thank God—the rest of the trip home, music soft and gentle, classical-type stuff, and even when he pulled in front of Haley’s house fifteen minutes later, the man refrained from dishing any more unwanted advice.

“Here you are.” Todd stared straight ahead, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

Haley glanced out the window at her little white house with crumbling concrete steps, the house without any lights on, with no one inside. Not home. Not even close. But she’d be okay. She had to. “Yes. Do you want to come in? I could give you the evidence now so you can start looking for my family.”

“I’m off-duty. If I enter the house with you, drive you to the station, let you speak with the federal investigators who’ve just arrived in town, there will be too many questions about my involvement. Especially since I helped you escape the horrors of the, ahh, wonderful caseworker.”

“I understand.”
Have to do this alone
.

“Get some rest, then come first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks again.”

Before Officer Lyttle drove away, Haley noticed his bumper sticker, one of those things that say Jesus, but in weird block letters so you have to really pay attention. She committed the car and its sticker to memory. No room for trust in anyone. She opened the front door and stopped, then gasped and lost her balance. She used the frame for support.

Glass littered the floor. Blood stained the rug at Haley’s feet. Sounds penetrated her thoughts, memories of skin and bones colliding with skin and bones. Dad tried to kill Haley.

Kill.

For Joce.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She couldn’t go inside. She couldn’t be here. Anywhere but here.

Haley grabbed black work shoes from a pile of shoes near the door, poured glass from them, put them on, then headed for Mom. Mom was safe. Normal was safe. Grief… safe. Hope got Haley into this. If she’d suspected Joce’s actions with the dress, with the bi-polar behavior, Haley wouldn’t be here.

Hope sucks.

The normal short trip to the cemetery took over half an hour and everything Haley had within. Shivering with her back propped on Mom’s grave, she closed her eyes and gave in. Gave up. For one night.

Done.

“Haley.”

She’d only slept for two seconds, three max, but bright rays of late fall sunshine blinded Haley when she opened her eyes. A man stood above, hovering, features blacked out from the light behind his head.

“Haley, it’s me.”

“Chris?” Haley shielded her eyes. “Can you come lower where I can see you?”

Chris knelt beside Haley, glaring, that same stupid muscle tense in his jaw. No more anger. No more violence.

“Why are you here? If you’re so dead set on hating me, why don’t you just fucking go away?”

“Haley—”

“Do you want me to beg and plead and tell you how sorry I am that I couldn’t do more for you—or right by you?”

“Hal—”

“No, that can’t be it. You just want to gloat and watch me suffer, just like every other piece of shit in my life. But I’d rather lie here forever than see someone look at me with that much hatred.” Haley closed her eyes and held back a scream of rage—or pain from her throbbing ribs. “Just go.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Haley.” Chris took her hand and ran his thumb over the remnants of tape from the IV, then sighed. “I’m mad at myself, not at you, and seeing you this way makes me want to do terrible, awful things to your dad.”

Haley didn’t have the energy to face Chris, so she listened, breathing harder, ragged.

“How long has this been going on? How long has that asshole done this to you?”

“Shortly after he fell off a crane.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Why do you care?”

“I know it’s hard to believe me when I just left you like that, but I promise I care. And I promise to never make you question that again.”

She opened her eyes; the hatred had fallen away from Chris’s features.

“Do you remember the accident?” she asked. “It was all over the news.”

“Yeah, I remember.” He stared at the ground, head hanging low, one hand gently squeezing hers, the other balled into a fist in his lap.

“I was twelve. The day after the Fall Father Daughter Dance at Bement, Dad went to work like any other day. There was a storm, a bad one, and all the construction workers evacuated the work site. All of them except for Dad. He stepped outside the door and slipped, hit the ground after bouncing off the metal stairs. Did some pretty hefty damage to his back and hip, enough to earn him a spot on the permanent disability list.”

“Why do all my girls look so sad?” Daddy lay in his hospital bed, smiling despite everything, hooked up to pain relievers and machines and covered in bruises.

“You scared us, Daddy.” Joce hugged Daddy’s arm, careful not to disturb the cluster of tubes connected to his hand.

“But I’ll be okay.”

Mom chewed her lip, grabbed his chart and read it over, redness attacking her cheeks. “Bradley, can we speak in private?”

“Uh oh, girls. Mom just called me Bradley. I think I’m in trouble.”

“Hope you survive.” Haley grabbed Joce and led her into the hall, keeping an ear pressed to the wall.

“What’s she yelling at Daddy about?” Joce bounced on her toes and pressed her ear to the wall but couldn’t hold still long enough to hear anything.

“Nothing.”

“Might never walk again.” Mom.

“Survivor.” Dad.

“Multiple surgeries.” Mom.

“Will get through.” Dad.

“He was never the same. Never pulled through. The surgeries took their toll.”

Chris growled, meeting Haley’s gaze with ferocity, eyes wide and still, fists clenched. “He took out his lacking self-worth on you from the time you were
twelve
?”