Chasing the Storm (Chasing the Storm, #1) - PUBLISHED

Chapter Nine

A stinging sensation immediately awakens me. Screaming, my eyes fly open and I pick my head up to see where it came from.

The second strike is just as surprising and hurts so much it feels as if my back is bleeding. I scramble up and feel that I have wet the bed again, which causes me to understand what’s going on. I consider pleading with Mr. Hatchker to stop, but then remember how much he hates that.

 The belt hits me once again and he begins to yell. I scoot to the corner to get as far from him as possible, but this move is a big mistake.

“You think this can’t reach you?” he says, seeming calm all of a sudden and as if he is really asking a question. As he turns to leave, he continues, “Ah, whatever. You’re not worth it. Breakfast is ready, by the way. Come get it when you want it.”

Slowly I crawl toward the ladder attached to my bed that is raised high off the floor, starving and ready to eat something… anything. Lately I’ve been being starved in addition to spanked awake when I wet the bed. I don’t do it on purpose, and I tell them that all the time, but it only makes them angrier.

Suddenly Mr. Hatchker turns around and I don’t even have a second to prepare for what is coming. I don’t see it until it happens.

My foster father raises the belt and brings it down onto my face hard, knocking me over into a ball. It takes a moment for what just happened to sink in, and for the pain to come. When it does, I grab my face and scream at the top of my voice.

“If you scream again, or even cry… if you make a single sound again, there’ll be plenty more. I have more in me, but I’m deciding to have mercy on you. Don’t make me change my mind.” When Mr. Hatchker leaves the room, I hurry off the bed and lock my bedroom door, then move my toy chest in front of it to prevent him from coming in once he realizes I locked the door.

Kneeling in front of the toy chest, I put my hands together, close my eyes and pray aloud, but quietly. By the time I get to, “Amen,” I hear sirens in the distance. I hop to my feet and rush to the closet, hiding behind the clothes.

What if Mr. Hatchker thinks I called the police? But maybe they’re not coming here. Maybe they’re just passing by. But Mrs. Maddison has forever assumed something was going on in this house because of all the yelling and bruises. I wonder if she’s the one who called the police. She’s threatened to do that a number of times. Was she serious?

I stiffen and my eyes widen when who I assume is Mr. Hatchker bangs his fists on the door.

“Open the door before I come in and kill you!” he screams.

Many voices suddenly say, “Freeze!” and the banging stops.

Mr. Hatchker uses foul language, then says, “I can explain.”

I wait in this hot closet for what feels like forever, listening to their conversation until there’s a gentle knock on my window.

I can hear the distinct click as the door is unlocked and the sound of the toy chest being pushed away from the door. My heart is pounding as I hear footsteps coming toward my closet. Then I hear, “Son, are you okay? Where are you?” and I realize it’s a police officer.

“You don’t have to worry,” says another. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Relief fills me and I open the door. Mrs. Maddison is right there, arms stretched open toward me.

“Everything will be okay,” she says as she holds me tightly while stroking my hair. She then instructs her husband to get some ice and he hurries out the door. The officers try to ask me some questions, but she stops them as she tries to console me. That’s when I notice that she’s crying, too. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she says as she rocks me.