To Hell and Back (6 page)

My
Carson. She said
my
Carson. That’s all I really heard just now. Something in the shy way she says it gives me hope.  She is already
my
Brielle, so this thing between us, whatever it is, will work.  It has to. 

“I remember you mentioning it.” I smile back at her as I put the car in drive and pull out of the parking lot. It’s less than a minute before I pull over a couple of houses down from hers and park the car again. “Brie…”

“Carson, I
will
call you.  Just miss me until then because I’ll be missing you.  I already feel a connection to you and it scares the hell out of me, but I don’t want it to go away, either.”  She opens the door and starts to get out of the car but turns back and whispers, “Bye, Carson.” She plants a soft kiss on my cheek and hurries out into the snow. I lean my head back against the seat and let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. She isn’t in my arms right now but at least I know there is a chance she will be there soon. The wait may just kill me…

Brielle

As I step out of the car into the freezing air, my lips still feel warm from their brief contact with Carson.  He’s a complication I don’t need, but one that I’m starting to want more than anything.  I’d like to jump back in that car right now and just tell him to go.  Tell him to take me far away, to get me out of here and never bring me back.  That’s a serious amount of pressure to put on a guy I’ve had one date with, though, even if he seems to want it.

I walk into the house and hear the TV on in the living room. It was off when I left, so I know Hank is awake.  With dawning horror, I realize I never actually picked up anything at Miller’s.  I was so stunned to see Carson that I completely lost my head.  I start to panic and try to think of any believable reason for me to have been out walking in the snow.  I hear Hank get up from the couch and my blood runs cold.  I just stand there in the kitchen, waiting for the inevitable.

Before I actually see him, I can already smell the whiskey. He wasn’t this drunk earlier.  He had to have woken up a while ago. My eyes go to the clock above the refrigerator, but its hands have been at the same 4:15 position for as long as I can remember.  I try to mentally calculate how long I was gone, but the time with Carson is kind of a blur. It feels like five minutes, but it must have been more. 

“Well, where the fuck
have
you
been?  I wake up, expecting a hot supper cooking, and instead I see that my lazy slut of a daughter is
nowhere to be found
. I checked the refrigerator and it’s pretty fucking empty.  I’m here, about to starve to death, and you’re off somewhere.  So, again, I will ask you. 
Where. The. Fuck. Were
. 
You?
”

“I was, um, at Miller’s, but I forgot my purse.  I left the groceries there and came home to get it.”  I start to feel relieved at my quick lie, but it’s short-lived.  The small flare of hope dies as Hank picks up the purse I set down on the kitchen table no more than couple of minutes ago.

“This purse here?  Are you
sure
you mean this one?  Because it wasn’t here half a fucking hour ago,
Brielle.
  I know that for a fact because I got out a glass and a new bottle of whiskey and I set them on this very goddamn table and there was
no
purse
on it!  I also know it hasn’t ever snowed
inside this house
,” he slurs the last part and I wonder what on Earth he’s talking about. That is, until I look down and realize there are droplets from the melting snow clinging to the fake leather exterior of my bag.  “So
you
were outside, and this fucking
purse
was outside, but where were the two of you?  Since you want to lie to me, maybe this purse will tell me the truth, huh?  Maybe it knows your dirty little secrets.”  He picks up the offending sack and dumps the contents on the table.  He paws furiously through the mess he’s created, and my heart stops when I see the small piece of paper with Carson’s number written on it.

“Dad, I…”  But I’m too late to distract him.  His eyes have landed on the paper and he’s picking it up, squinting at the small writing on it through the haze of alcohol and anger. 

“WHO THE FUCK IS
CARSON
? Is he the guy you’ve been fucking?  Do you think being a
whore
is a good reason to leave your father at home starving and alone?  You want to use
my
phone to call some asshole?  Why?  So he can put a baby inside you with his fat, dirty dick?  I put a roof over your head and clothes on your back and you’re out taking them off for some little asswipe named Carson?  And then what?  What happens when he’s had enough of your dirty cunt and he leaves you alone with his bastard?  I’m already sick of raising you and I am NOT going to raise your goddamn bastard child!” 

I don’t even have time to protect myself before the first blow hits.  His fist hits my stomach with what feels like the force of ten men and the wind is knocked out of me.  “That’s what I think of your bastard!  You wanna go get knocked up, well, no fucking way am I letting that happen!” Another blow hits me, this time a bit lower. I fall to my knees, trying to get a breath in, and throw up all over the kitchen floor. There are streaks of blood in the vomit but it’s not the first time I’ve thrown up blood and it probably won’t be the last.  I’ll be alright if he just leaves me alone now, but I’m not that lucky. Hank grabs my hair and pushes my face down close to the pool of my own stomach contents screaming, “Well, who the hell do you think is going to clean that up?  Get up, you miserable slut!”

I try to get to my feet, but I struggle to catch my balance and Hank gets even more furious at my inability to follow his instructions.  With his hand still in my hair, he yanks me to my feet and shoves me backward.  I hit the kitchen table and grab the edge, trying to keep from falling over again.  Hank is still screaming at me but I can no longer hear the words.  It’s like this is happening to someone else and I’m just stuck here as a witness.  I feel a couple more blows to my abdomen and pain flows through my ribs from yet another. I’m dizzy and can’t take in a deep breath. Hank shoves me back again but there is nowhere to go.  I lose my balance and hit the floor.

“Just lay there, skank. Maybe you’ll think about this the next time you want to get fucked.” I see his boot heading for my face but I can’t react. The pain in my head is incredible and I feel myself ready to vomit again. He kicks me again and then, nothing…

Chapter Six

Brielle

My throat is dry and I can’t seem to open my eyes.  I hear a beeping sound and it just won’t stop.  Sometimes I hear voices and at other times it’s quiet.  Right now there is someone in the room with me.  It’s a woman and she’s talking to me, saying something about her son’s basketball game.  She’s touching me, but I’m not sure why.  She lifts my hand and sets it back down.  She gently pulls one eye open and shines a light in it.  I want to flinch but it’s like I’m not really awake, like I have no control over my body.  The light goes away and so does the woman’s chattering.  It’s quiet again now.  I liked her voice.  I’m just so tired.

***

I can hear voices again.  The beeping is still steady and I now realize I must be in the hospital.  One of the voices definitely belongs to my father. It’s odd that he doesn’t sound angry. I’m so used to his anger. Anything else just seems wrong. In fact, the last thing I remember before the beeping started was his anger. And Carson. Oh God, Carson. My purse. I know why I’m here. If he’s here, too, then they must have believed whatever he told them.  They’ve believed him again.  I don’t want to think about this.  It’s better to stay tired. I’m going back to sleep. My eyes don’t want to open yet, anyway.

***

The room is dark and still when I am finally able to pry my eyes open.  The infernal
beep, beep, beep
reassures me that my heart is still steadily beating. It feels like I have swallowed a bag of cotton balls. I try to look around but my head throbs when I lift it off the pillow. I’m just laying my head back down when I hear the door open.

“So, Sleeping Fucking Beauty finally decided to wake up.  No sign of that Prince you were all over, so it’s a good thing he didn’t knock you up after all.  I’ve been stuck here for the last four goddamn days waiting for you to wake up. 
Four days,
Brielle.  Sheila is pissed that I’ve been spending so much time away from her.  She came with me the first day, but after that she just couldn’t understand why I’d want to stay here and watch you sleep.  She’s a lot more fun than you, but I couldn’t take the chance that you’d wake up while I wasn’t here. Lord knows you’d just fuck things up.” Hank leans in toward the side of my bed and I instinctively cringe away from the fat finger he points up in my face.  “Listen to me carefully, you little
bitch
,” he spits. “If anyone so much as
thinks
I could have done this, I’ll put you right back in here.  Or worse.  It’s your own damned fault this happened so you had better make sure you get your story straight.”

I try to focus, but it’s so hard.  I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open and I try to rest them, just for a minute.  Hank grabs my face and the pain in my head intensifies.  “You had better make sure you hear every word I say,” he hisses angrily, releasing the grip on my chin.  “This is all you need to know.  I was upstairs sleeping when the house was robbed. A man came in and dumped your purse, probably looking for cash.  You remember coming into the room and him charging at you.  He beat the hell out of you and you remember nothing else after that.  But I’ll tell you what happened.  I saved your ass.  I came running when I heard you scream from downstairs.  I had to do something to save my little
princess
.  The man ran out the side door, but I was just too worried about you to go after him.  I called 911, then I called my good friend Chief Davis, and he came right over.  An ambulance showed up, some uniforms, the works.  It was a real show.  You’d have loved the attention.  And now, you’re here, and you only remember walking in on a man going through your purse. 
Not another fucking thing or so help me, Brielle, so help me.
”

It’s a lot to take in.  I know better than to even
think
about telling anyone this was my father’s work.  Chief Davis has been his buddy since the academy.  I’m sure he knows something isn’t right in the Douglas house, but he would never believe that my father is capable of doing this to me.  I just close my eyes again and lie there.  The cotton in my throat probably wouldn’t let me speak, if I even had the urge to try.

“I’m going to get a nurse. You stay there and think about what not to say,” Hank growls as he leaves the room.  In my head, I start counting the beeps.  One, this is my life, two, things have to change, three, I can’t go home with him, four, my plan isn’t working, five, God, help me.

Hank comes back in with a young nurse who smiles at me like she means it. She says, “Hello, Brielle.  I’m Claire, your nurse.  I am so happy you’re awake!  We were worried about you, you know.”  Her voice sounds familiar and I remember something about basketball, but the memory is gone before it’s fully formed.  “Did your father tell you anything about your condition?”

I shake my head as little as possible and try to talk to her.  A slight whisper comes out and I manage, “Water… please.” 

“As soon as the doctor checks you out I can bring some water and maybe some clear broth.  For now I can manage a couple of ice chips for you.  I’ll go get them.   Doctor Stevens should be by in the next few minutes.  I know there are some police officers who have been waiting to talk to you, so I’ll let them know you’re awake.”

“I’ve already called the Chief,” Hank tells her. “He’s going to come by personally and talk to Brielle. We all want to find out who did this to my baby.”

“I’m sure you do, sir.”  Claire stops on her way to the door and turns to me, “Don’t worry, honey.  I’m sure they’ll find whoever hurt you and he’ll pay for what he did.  Your daddy has some good friends.”

They won’t have to look very hard to find the man who hurt me.  He’s right here.  But he’ll never pay for any of it.

Claire is gone and I start to panic.  I’m afraid to be alone with my father. I inch my fingers toward the call button, but the doctor comes in before I get very far. For the moment, I’m saved from any more threats.

“Brielle!  I’m Doctor Stevens.  I’m glad to see you’re awake.  You have a few injuries that will take some time to heal but pretty soon you will be as good as new. You came in with a concussion, some severely bruised ribs, quite a few scrapes and bruises and a lot of swelling in your abdomen. We’ve done an ultrasound and it looks like you got lucky. There was no permanent damage to any of your internal organs. There was some bleeding in your stomach, but that has subsided.  We’ve hooked you up to a machine that dispenses pain medication for you.”  He hands me a button that connects to the IV stand near my bed.  “Press this when you feel you need it.  It’s set for the proper dose and it will only dispense after enough time has passed, so don’t worry that you’ll press it too often.  I really don’t think you’ll have to be here more than four or five more days if you continue to improve.  The neurologist will be coming in to talk to you sometime this afternoon.  He will be checking to make sure your brain is functioning properly and will ask you a bunch of questions.  Other than that, we just want you to rest.  The swelling has gone down quite a bit on your face and things are looking good. You did have a few stitches along your hairline but that shouldn’t be noticeable after a few weeks.”

I am listening to all of this, but it’s like he is talking about someone else.  It doesn’t really matter what my injuries are.  The most important thing he said is that I only have four or five more days to figure out a plan that does not include going home with my father. I’m eighteen – technically, I could sign myself out of here and go wherever I please, but it’s not that simple.  I have no money, no car, no friends, and nowhere to go.  Hank knows almost everyone in town and even though I’m sure many of them suspect what he’s been up to they would never say so.  It isn’t worth accusing a man like Hank.  Nothing would ever stick and he’d just have another reason to come after me. He would never just let me leave. Having a daughter in college is respectable; being the father of a teenage runaway is not. My fear has never been leaving. It has always been what would happen if he found me.