The Mistress, Part Two (7 page)

She wasn’t entirely sure why he was so frightened, but it was likely not just the robust size of the boy. She wasn’t completely sure, but her instincts told her that this was the boy that had been giving him problems at school.

She wished that Preston had shed light on the situation before something like this happened, but obviously he was unreliable and didn’t give a shit. If he could let this go on and not do a thing about it – what the hell did that say about him?

The boy was easily twice Lucas’s size. And there was something odd in the boy’s eyes. They weren’t the eyes of your average bully – they were much more intense and dark than that. In fact, as she looked upon the boy, she too felt fearful. For in his eyes was nothing if not pure hatred.
Haley struggled more – when she saw the evil sneer that crept on the boy’s face – to leap over the multitude of objects, and she felt angry with herself for not being able to get through all of the stuff and rescue Lucas. She didn’t want to witness this! She wanted to stop it!

She felt immeasurably ignorant for not going back the way she had come. It would have taken just a few minutes, and she could have crawled back through the broken window and run down the alleyway to the front of the building. She thought it was quicker to climb all of the objects and go through the front door, but now she wondered why she had even thought that.

Hell, did she even know if the door would open? It could be chained for all she knew. Why wouldn’t it be? It was an abandoned building, after all. Her rationale dumbfounded her with its fashionably late status – better late than never, though, she supposed. She stupidly hadn’t looked for another exit. Lucas had obviously gotten out somehow, and she highly doubted he had gone through all the trouble she was going through.

She cleared a few more objects and climbed on top of a piano, a few keys playing as she went. She wanted to get enough height to see if she could see chains on the doors. But when her foot caught and she found herself looking back out the window, only to see the boy reach Lucas and grab a handful of his hair, her fears were recognized. She was about to witness an above averagely large boy hit Lucas, the closest thing to a firstborn child that she had ever had.

“Fuck this!” she screamed, jumping from the piano back towards the direction she had come from. She hit the ground – hard. She landed roughly, her hands and feet catching her fall – just barely. Her palms had skidded across the cement floor and a fiery pain shot across them as they bled; she had also twisted her ankle when her feet reverberated against the pavement. But damn it all, she was going to go back and climb through the broken window again!

There wasn’t time for the hopscotch bullshit she had been subjected to for the last few minutes. She looked to the window again and saw the boy jerking Lucas’s hair from the roots as he pulled him up and slammed him against the brick stoop’s post.

She could see air pour from Lucas as he gasped, knowing that the air had completely escaped his lungs. He continued to gasp for air, and she winced as she watched him ache in pain. Suddenly, she shook herself from the view and descended back through the hallway, into the darkness and towards the broken window hidden away in the back of the building.

She didn’t understand why he hadn’t fought back, and as she ran through the abandoned hallway of a rundown building she wondered if this was even reality. Had she lost it completely? Had she had a mental breakdown of sorts? Was Lucas really the type of boy to run into a building like this, a building that, by the looks of it, could have been a heroin addict’s dream hideout? She was petrified at the thought of this all being real.

She knew he wouldn’t have been able to win in a battle against this boy, but to not even fight back? She couldn’t fathom it. And she could only imagine what was happening out front as she finally flung herself onto the window’s ledge – not caring if she got cut in her journey – and pulled herself with all of her might. Her imagination ran wild, and she imagined the boy drawing a fist and flinging it into Lucas’s jaw. She imagined his face burning like a flame as his teeth rattled and jaw clicked in a way that she could only ever imagine. She had never been in a fight, but seeing Lucas’s face, she knew that it could only get worse than the times before. And she had known that he had been in a fight recently. So how much worse could it get?

As she mustered up all of her strength, her might finally allowed her to pull herself up and out of the window, cutting her knees and hands as she went. She didn’t have time for her injuries. Despite having been cut, ankle twisted, hands burning – she didn’t have time to stop.

She had to get to Lucas. She ran through her pain until she rounded the corner and saw the large boy, still holding Lucas’s hair, smashing his fist against his face repeatedly. Even from her distance she could see that same horrendous look plastered on the boy’s face – now even more evident than before.

“STOP!” she bellowed with everything she had. The boys all snapped their heads to her direction before scurrying off, the larger of the boys – the one attacking Lucas – shortly following. He had dropped Lucas to the ground, and he just lay there – unmoving. She ran to him. His face was down – directly into the dirt – and when she finally turned him over to look at him, what she saw terrified her. He was beaten, bloody, and completely battered.

She watched his eyes flutter open slightly, and they glistened with tears. He was conscious, thank God – but he looked at her, pain evident in his eyes. It was only for a moment, though. As one more tear fell down his face and to his ear, he pulled himself from his daze and forced himself up with his wobbly arms.

She had to admire his strength. He was a boy of only twelve and had more guts and drive than most men had. He pushed himself the rest of the way up with a grunt and made his way to his feet. His movement was staggering, and he crumbled over holding his stomach. She could only imagine what happened to him when she couldn’t see, when she hadn’t been watching over him. And then she was terrified; what would happen to Lucas if she wasn’t around?

              As Marissa absorbed herself in the mound of paperwork that lay in treacherous mounds across her desk, she heard the shrill voice of her sister questioning someone. She asked “What happened?” and because of the volume of the question – loud and shrill – Marissa’s curiosity sparked slightly. She wondered who she was talking to. She could tell it must have been serious if she heard it through her closed office door.

              She put her papers aside and threw her highlighter onto the surface of her desk. She wanted to know what the matter was. Call it nosiness, call it curiosity – call it what you will, but this was her place of business – her establishment – and she was going to investigate. She only hoped Joseph wasn’t hurt.

              Poking her head out of her office door, she saw no one around. There was no one in the kitchen. Could she have been in the shop area? How was she
that
loud? Just as she was about to call for her sister, she saw her come through the door, her face white as all the papers she had been staring at all day – and her expression was serious.

              “You may want to come out here...” she said, before turning back around and going back through the swinging door.

              What the fuck? Marissa didn’t know, but worry washed over her suddenly before she went out to see what happened. Flinging open the swinging door, her breath caught and her stomach whirled. There they were – standing before her. Lucas and Haley.

“What the hell happened?” Marissa screamed. “Why the hell aren’t you with your dad?”

              Lucas had been bloodied and bruised. He stood there, beneath Haley’s wing – protected as a baby bird by its mother, yet he held a face of stone. His jaw clenched and he looked straight ahead like a soldier, well-postured and tough. Haley squeezed his shoulder as if to prompt him to tell the story once again.

“I told Dad I was taking the bus home. I do it all the time, and he saw me off at the bus stop,” he replied. “I had to transfer, and I ended up running into some kids from school.”

              “Is it the same kid as last time?” Marissa continued to question, a little angry that Preston had let him off the hook of spending time with him. It was as if he didn’t even care if he spent time with his children or not. And then, because of his carelessness,
this
happened! Lucas was supposed to call her if he needed to leave, and he and Preston both knew that. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the story, but she let it go to listen to what her injured son had to say.

              He nodded in response, his eyes visibly welling up with tears. “Tell me what happened,” she said before she walked over to him, her face full of worry. She grabbed his hand and led him – after some hesitation on his part – away from Haley, back through the kitchen’s door and to her office. That was the last thing she remembered before he unleashed a story so terrifying that she wished she hadn’t heard it, let alone known that her son lived it.

              His eyes glistened as he retold the story, and she didn’t know why he hadn’t confided in anyone before. He hadn’t yet told what transpired to lead to the sort of brutality that left his face mangled to the degree it was. All he had mentioned was the attack that just occurred. He described each hit becoming more powerful and his consciousness moving farther away with every blow.

              He said he counted the hits. Thirteen. Thirteen hits, and then Haley had interfered. Being a child of twelve, she was sure that he didn’t really understand the repercussions that could have come from the incident. Thirteen hits, thirteen fucking hits. If Haley hadn’t been there, Lucas may not have been anywhere.

              As he described the first blow, Marissa allowed tears to flow from her eyes, and because of that, she could tell that he hadn’t wanted to continue. He never did want to upset his mom; at least, not with real issues. When it came to being a pain-in-the-ass teenager, he was all for upsetting his mother – but during circumstances like this, it was a different story. And from the moment that she saw his beaten face, she was forever grateful for the pain in the ass that he was and that he would be a pain in the ass for another day.

              He spoke with such emotion that he, himself, was crying. His hardened demeanor faltered more and more with every word. He described the fear that his jaw would snap after the eleventh hit, and that he was so glad it hadn’t.

              At the time, he said he was glad because he didn’t want to look weird for school – she laughed. Through all of it, through her glistening eyes and her fear – she laughed. She was glad he could still be twelve years old after what had just happened to him. She was partially glad that he didn’t fully understand the repercussions of an attack like this. He needed to remain twelve years old for as long as he could.

              He said that he blacked out for a moment after he heard Haley scare the boys off, but only for a moment. She couldn’t imagine the horror that Haley – who she knew loved him with her whole heart, despite all that happened – had to go through as she peered down at him, motionless on the ground. She wondered how she might have handled the situation had she been the one that had been there.

              She wondered if she could hold her composure to scare the boys off and get him up and to safety. She wondered if she might try and hurt the boys for hurting her baby boy. She wondered what she would do, and was thankful that Haley knew to bring him to her.

              Haley always seemed to know more than her when it came to the kids, though, and it made her sad. She wanted to know more than anyone about her own kids, but she knew she couldn’t think about that during a time like this. She had to thank the universe that her son was safe and in front of her.

              She could only hope to goodness that she would have known better than to just stand in one spot, petrified in fear like a statue as she watched her son’s attack. She hoped she would have acted rather than just watched in terror, her eyes closed tight. She hoped that she’d do more than just hope and pray for the foul image before her to be over, that she would actually fulfill an action to do something about it. Not just hope.

              Lucas had described the abandoned building, and how Haley had followed him to it, and she secretly wondered if she would have even gotten that far. He then said that he had escaped through the basement door and Haley had hurt herself while inside. She ignored the fleeting feeling that Lucas had been to the building before, and focused on the story.

              Haley had apparently fallen once inside and then cut herself on a broken window. She hoped that she would have had the instincts that Haley had. She hoped that – despite her own physical pain – she would have been able to get to him. She wondered that because as she looked at Lucas’s poor physically corrupted face, she sat – at her desk – completely terrified and still. She wanted to rid herself of the image implanted into her mind, the image of her son, lying on the ground unmoving with blood splattered about.

              She wasn’t even witnessing it firsthand and she could do no more than look at him in fear, worry, and horror. How was she expected to act if she had actually been there? She had to hand it to Haley. At least she could do something. Marissa was unsure of her abilities as a mother, and a human being, for that matter. Haley had always been the action-taker, and she wondered if her decision was wise to let her go. She should have thought about what was best for the children. Perhaps Preston should have as well, though.

              Her stomach churned with a sickness she had never experienced. She honestly didn’t know what to do. Her mind was jumbled and moving from subject to subject – it was enough to drive her insane. Seeing Lucas under Haley’s arm’s grasp – protected – was enough to make her question her decision. It was also enough to make her resent Haley and Preston even more for putting her in the position.

              And the fact that she had been just comparing herself to Haley made her resent them even more than that. She never compared herself to Haley before, because they each brought something unique to the family’s dynamic. Now though, it seemed almost like a competition, and she hated that feeling.

              But disregarding all of that – her first priority was Lucas. Her stomach churned knowing what happened to him, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She could afford to take him out of the school if need be – but was that the wise decision? All she knew was that something had to be done. She knew that she had to fight for her son’s safety. But moreover, she wanted to know what caused all of this in the first place. Lucas had never had issues with bullies before now, so she wondered if there was more to the story.

              She hated that Preston had known about it and hadn’t confided in her. Hell, as far as she was concerned, this was partly his fault. If she had known it was this bad, she would have never trusted him to take care of it. She would have never left the fate of her son’s safety in the hands of a busy-self-entitled-asshole-corporate-cheating-dickhead.

              She knew the situation wasn’t great. Because he had come home with black eyes, but Preston said he had it handled – and she trusted him. Why the fuck she did that, she would probably never know. She honestly hadn’t thought the situation was that dire, but clearly she was wrong in her assumptions and made mental note to take matters such as these more seriously next time. She would have never forgiven herself if something had happened to him.

              The question was, though: if it was this bad and Preston knew the situation – why was he willing to bet his son’s safety? If he knew – why wouldn’t he do anything? No matter how good his intentions were – if they even
were
good – there was no excuse for taking chances. Not on his son. Now, she knew she could really never trust him. Obviously not with their marriage, and apparently not even with the kids’ wellbeing.

              Marissa continued to listen to Lucas’s tale, hoping that it was soon over but not wanting to interrupt him. If he wanted to go into detail, she was going to let him. She knew it was probably a lot more difficult for him to go through it again, as he retold the story, than it was for her to hear it, even though it was almost unbearable for her to hear. Besides, the story – no matter how disgustingly vile it was – may help her figure out what happened in the first place.

              “Who did it?” she asked, really wanting to know the demon child’s name.

              “Darren,” he responded flatly, looking at his feet. Darren – she had never heard of a Darren before. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She guessed it was good that he wasn’t a friend, but it made her even angrier because if she hadn’t heard of him, it probably meant Lucas didn’t even know him very well. Which also meant that Darren didn’t know Lucas very well either.

              He talked about the other boys in the pack taunting him from behind the ape of a boy that beat her son. Their cheers seemed to influence the attacker more and give him encouragement to continue. He said that he felt a kick to his stomach at some point, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Darren or one of the other boys, but it caused his knees to buckle and his face to smash against a surface. Again, he was unsure of what surface – the ground or the stoop to the front of the abandoned building. All he knew was that it was hard, and harsh against his skin.

              Marissa winced, nearly feeling the pain herself. She wasn’t just empathizing though; she was truly hurt. Someone had intentionally harmed her baby. Of course she was hurting. She couldn’t imagine her son writhing on the ground, gasping for air. Her stomach hadn’t stopped churning since she first set her gaze upon his face. She wanted to vomit – not because he looked hideous, but because she couldn’t believe the world could be as cruel as harm a young boy to that degree. And it made her sick to know she did nothing to prevent it – and neither did his father.

              “This only started recently...what in the world is going on, Lucas? I know you told your dad, now I want you to tell me,” she said, rolling her desk chair to his parted legs. His hands rested atop his shaking knees, and she grabbed them for support.

              “I’m not supposed to say...” Lucas trailed, looking down at her hands over his. His eyes were swollen purple already, and it was nearly impossible to tell if they were open or closed when he bent his head to look down. Her heart wept, and she couldn’t help but let her imagination wander to the idea of blood spurting from his mouth as he looked directly to his assaulter.

              He was her own flesh and blood – her fucking son – and the thought of him coughing and gasping for air horrified her to no end. She didn’t think she could bear to watch the soft fall of blood land on the ground, or even his body crumpling to the ground.

              She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t ready to talk about his assaulter’s motives and what drove them. She couldn’t understand why he was scared to tell her the truth. Pin the asshole kid to the wall, for all she cared! Why would
he
– the
victim
– care?

              “What do you mean?” she asked, completely puzzled.

              “Those guys have been giving me a hard time…” he started, and he had begun to look her in the eye, but before he finished his thought looked away, as if he was ashamed to say.