Protect Me: Oakville Series:Book Three (6 page)

“Let’s go, we’re gonna be late for school,” Reggie yells to me from downstairs. Picking up my phone, I try one more time to call her. Straight to voice mail.
Shit!
When she told me I needed to leave, I didn’t think that meant she was cutting off all contact with me. I can’t just pretend she doesn’t exist. Leaving her behind was hard enough, that would be impossible.

I shove my phone into the pocket of my jeans and grab my backpack. Another good thing about living with Reggie is he has his own car. No more riding on that noisy ass school bus every day. The whole ride to school, I’m consumed with thoughts of my mom. Does she want me to stay away from her completely? Is she ignoring my calls, hoping I’ll get the hint and eventually stop? The bag she handed me had a note and twenty-thousand dollars in cash. I’ve read the note so many times, I have it memorized.

Dear Paul,

I started saving this money the day your father hit me the first time, over twenty years ago. If the day ever came when I found the courage to leave, I knew I’d need cash to do it. After you were born, I no longer saved it for me. I knew you would need to get away from him and I wanted to make sure I could make that happen for you. Please remember how much I love you. Take this money and start a life for yourself that makes you happy. As long as I know you’re safe and happy, I’ll be okay.

Love always and forever,

Mom

She never says not to contact her ever again. Even if she did, I can’t abandon her. I’ve always tried to protect her and I can’t stop now. “Hey, Reg, can you drive me by my parents’ house after school? I’m worried about my mom and I want to check on her.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” Reggie answers with a forced smile. Aside from my mom, he’s the only person who knows everything that went on inside those walls. I know he’s worried about me going anywhere near that house.

“I just need to make sure she’s okay.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. But I’m sure he’s pissed that you left. What will he do if he sees you? You’ve finally gotten away and I hate to see him do anything to you again.” His tone is one of concern. I didn’t plan on seeing my dad. I also never really thought about how he’d feel about me leaving. Why would he even care? I was always just in his way. What does worry me is whether he found out mom helped me leave. He would surely punish her for that.

“It’s not me I’m worried about. After the last time, I don’t think he’ll ever touch me again. My mom is a different story. She won’t fight back,” I tell him.

The day went by so slowly, I thought I would go crazy. I couldn’t focus on anything the teachers were saying. The closer we get to my house, the more nervous I become. I have this gnawing feeling that something’s wrong. I don’t know which worries me more: the things my father could’ve done to her in my absence or that she won’t want to see me.

As we turn the corner and my house comes into view, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His truck is in the driveway. In my sixteen years, I’ve never once known my dad to be home before five o’clock on a workday. This isn’t a good sign. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I try to calm my nerves. Reggie and I both look at each other and then the truck parked in the driveway next to my mom’s car. Neither of us know what to do or say. Should I chance going in there and facing his wrath? I have no choice. There’s no way I can leave without making sure she’s okay.

“I know you have to go in there, but do you want me to go with you, just in case things get out of hand?” Reggie asks nervously. I appreciate that he’s willing to do this for me, but I can’t let him go in there. It’s one thing to tell him about the things that have gone on in that house, but experiencing it firsthand is a whole other thing. I won’t put my best friend through the same hell I’ve dealt with all these years.

“I better go by myself. Just keep an eye and ear out. If I need help, you’ll know.” Giving him a reassuring smile, I open the car door. As I stand, my legs are unbalanced. “I can do this,” I whisper to myself as I steady my nerves. Walking slowly to the door, I ring the bell and wait. When there’s no answer, I walk over to the living room window. The house is trashed. Chairs are tipped over, broken glass strewn about, a large amount of blood on the wall. I rush back to the door and turn the handle. Locked. I try again, slamming myself against the door. That’s when I remember my mom put a spare key under a rock in the planter along the driveway.

Frantically grabbing the key, I steady my hand to unlock the door. Slowly and quietly, I walk into the house. Several walls have holes in them about this size of a fist. Plants are knocked over on the floor. The farther into the house I get, the worse the destruction is. In the dining room, food is spilled all over the table, floor, and splattered on the walls. All these years of witnessing the abuse from my father, never have I seen anything like this. The knot in the pit of my stomach becomes painful and I’m trembling from head to toe, petrified to keep searching the house.

I climb the stairs, silently praying my mom is okay. By the looks of this house, I’m scared I might be too late. When I see more blood along the stairs, I start to get nauseous. Following the trail, I end up in front of the door to my bedroom and fall to my knees right there in the doorway. “No, no, no,” I repeat, over and over again. Lying on the floor, side by side, are my parents. Both dead. My mom is covered in blood, bruises, and cuts. This is what I’ve always been afraid of. My bastard father killing her and himself. The only difference is…I was always the one lying next to my mother when I had this nightmare. I never should’ve left her alone with him. I had finally fought back. He wouldn’t have been able to do this if I was here. I might as well have been the one to pull the fucking trigger myself. This is all on me. I should be over there on that floor bleeding next to my mom. I don’t deserve to live after running from here and leaving her alone. I’m a coward. She always called me her protector, even though he kicked the shit out of me every time. I still took some of the beating off of her, but not this time.

I glance at my father’s hand, see the gun resting beside it on the cold wood floor, and my chest tightens. My father’s voice taunts me.
“Pick up the gun, you selfish, weak coward. Go ahead. Be a man for once in your pathetic life. Pick it up and do what I would have if you hadn’t run away like a little pussy.”
He’s
right, I belong there with them. This is where I should’ve been. That’s why he did this here, in my room. To show me I was meant to be a part of this, too. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Hands grip my shoulders, lifting me from the floor. “Paul! Let’s go outside. You don’t to see this,” Reggie commands as he guides me out of my room and down the stairs. The minute we’re outside, I break. Sixteen years of hurt, anger, guilt, and love pour out of me. I collapse on my front steps, my knees giving out, sobbing so hard, I can’t breathe. Even being the monster he was, I loved my dad. I couldn’t help it. I tried not to...I really did. We had some really good times together when he was happy and sober. I know he truly loved my mom and I, he just became a different person when he drank.

Sirens scream down the road and stop in front of the house. There’s so much commotion all around me. Police officers try to ask me questions, but all I can do is sit here and cry uncontrollably. When a male officer resembling my father puts his hand on my shoulder to calm me, I’m thrown into a full-blown panic attack. I can’t breathe, sweat pours off my face, and everything around me starts to spin. In a flash, I’m being lifted onto a gurney and loaded into the back of an ambulance.

I only spent twenty-four hours in the hospital then was able to go back home to Reggie’s house. His parents told the police if they wanted to talk to me, they would have to do it there not at the police station. They felt I had been through enough. I was told my parents had only been dead a couple hours before I got there. If only I had checked on them sooner.

I didn’t have an elaborate funeral service for them, because really, who’d show up? No one wants to be associated with the guy who beats his wife and son for years and then kills her. This town is too small for me to deal with any longer — everyone either giving me sympathetic looks or ones of disgust. I just can’t take it any longer.

I bought a car a month ago and became emancipated. I knew I couldn’t stay in this town for two more years. Just as I put the last bag into my car, Reggie walks out. He’s pretty pissed I’m leaving him. We always planned on getting out of here together, taking off to L.A. and starting a band.

“I understand why you have to leave, it just sucks,” Reggie states as he stares at the ground. “By the time I graduate and make it out to L.A., you’ll be settled and have forgotten all about me. Things will never be the same, never be like we planned.” I wish I could argue with him, but he’s probably right. Things changed the minute I walked into my house and saw my parents dead on the floor. I changed. Something inside me broke. I failed to protect the one person I loved most in this world because I was a selfish bastard. For that, I don’t deserve anything good and I sure as hell won’t bring anything but misery to anyone who thinks they care about me. So, I lie to my best friend, hoping to avoid a drawn out scene or witnessing the pain me being lost for good will cause, truly earning my selfish bastard title. I smile wide and bring him in for a brotherly hug.

“Don’t be a stupid fuck. It will just give me time to find a job and an apartment for us. We are still sticking to our plans,” I say before getting into my car and driving away from the last person I will ever let myself care about. The last person I’ll ever let care about me.

I
OPEN
my eyes and glance around the room, not recognizing my surroundings. I’m a little scared to look over at the woman snoring softly beside me. Usually, I try to choose the girl I’m going home with before I drink myself into a stupor. Just because I like to party and never with the same woman more than once, doesn’t mean I don’t have standards. There have been a couple times I’ve woken up next to girls so fucking ugly, they’d scare the stripes off a tiger. The body next to me stirs, her arm slowly making its way around my waist. I hate this part. When I have to explain I don’t cuddle. I don’t kiss. I don’t do anything that can be confused as more than just a fun night of meaningless sex. The only feelings involved are pleasure, nothing more. Of course, I tell them all of this upfront, but sometimes they still think they have the magical pussy that will make me fall head over heels. Not gonna happen.

“How about some breakfast, handsome?” she asks in a voice I can only describe as annoying, but I bet she thinks it sounds sexy. Carefully, I roll over in just a way that it causes her arm to fall off me. I’m relieved to see she’s a very pretty girl. A blonde. I haven’t been with a blonde in a while. Too bad I don’t remember whether the carpet matches the drapes. I kinda like women who stick with their natural hair color. Maybe it’s because they’re not trying to be something they’re not. Like it really matters. I won’t be seeing them again. Over the last five years, I’ve lost track of the number of women I’ve slept with. But, since I’ve never been with the same woman more than once, the numbers are high.