Sketch

Chapter 13

"Are you ready?" I asked my father.

"As I'll ever be," He sighed. I straightened his tie for him solemnly and patted his shoulder, smiling. "You'll do great."

"She'll most likely freak out on me," My dad warned, more to himself than me.

I nodded in agreement, "Probably, so you'll have to be wary and choose your words carefully."

"I will," He nodded. "Do you think she'll be as calm as you were?"

"Calm?" I snorted. "I was anything but calm. I was ready to rip your head off if Devon left us in the same room together."

"I'm glad you found a man who respects you, Natalia. Call him and invite him back over after I get things settled with your mother," Dad smiled sadly.

I smiled back but shook my head. "This isn't about me. This is about you and mom." There was a jiggle if the doorknob as if on cue. "Go get em' tiger."

Dad walked nervously into the dining room and sat at the table as Mom came in through the front.

"What are you standing there gawking at me for?" She snapped. "Get a move on brat."

I calmly stepped out of her way, a smug smile creeping relentlessly onto my face. She glared at me and paused in the door way.

"What are you smiling about?" She snapped.

"Nothing," I replied gently. But my smirk betrayed me and grew into a grin.

"Wipe that stupid off your face!" She shouted. For some reason, I simply giggled. This whole thing was so funny to me. She was about to face the one who made her how she is now and she would finally feel what I felt.

The was a flash of moment and a shock of pain as her hand snapped out. She slapped me across the face then smiled viciously. I didn't move or cry out, save for the faintest of whimpers, but white hot rage boiled up inside me.

I'd never had a history of violence. I sure talked like I could do damage but trufully,  Bambie made me cry. But something came over my mind, like a dark cloud that blocked the sun, and my shaking hand shot out. My fist connected with her cheek and I felt the bones in my hand crunch. I clenched my teeth through the pain and dropped my hand to my side.

Mom shouted out something vulgar but I couldn't make it out. Blood rushed in my ears and my hands shook, blood dripping from my presumably broken hand.

Everytging slowed down. My Dad appeared behind her, holding her back as she lunged toward me. He shouted something at me. I took several panicked steps back as the time sped up. I could hear and move again.

I backed into the wall was I watched my Dad struggle to keep my thrashing mother in his grasp. I turned and ran out the door, letting it fly open behind me as I bolted across the sidewalk. I ran and ran into the freezing night air and didn't stop to look behind me.

*****

After about hour of running and wandering, I found myself on Devon's doorstep. It's was about two in the morning so I refrained from ringing the doorbell and opted for throwing pebbles with my good hand at Devon's window. The window swung open after about four taps of the pebbles on the pane.

Devon appeared shirtless, groggy, and disheveled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What the- What are you.." His eyes opened wider as he saw me. "What's wrong? Climb up here!"

"I can't," I replied in a faint voice and held up my broken hand, wincing lightly.

"God, Natalia!  I'm coming down!" He half whispered, half yelled, then disappeared. He returned with a shirt and a jacket and clamored down from the second floor window.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, drawing me into his arms. "And what happened to your hand?" Wait, I was crying? I lifted my good hand to my cheek and felt salty tears streaming down my cheeks.

"My mom," I choked out as I shivered into Devon's chest. He draped his jacket around my shoulders and slowly lowered us to the damp earth, still cradling me. I sobbed into his should for a while, but my tears were quickly replaced with exhaustion.

"How did you get here?" He asked quietly, stroking the back of my head.

"I ran," I whispered.

"Let's go inside. It's freezing out here and I need to get my mom to take care of your hand. She used to be a nurse," Devon frowned and pulled us up. We got into the house to find that Devon's mother was already standing in the kitchen, tapping her foot.

"What do you-," She began scolding her son but her eyes fell on me. She looked to my hand and silently cleared a spot on the counter. She had gotten all her supplies, she patted the counter, motioning for me to come sit.

Devon lifted me onto the counter and held my good hand tightly while his mother tended to my broken one. I gasped a few times while she worked but I didn't cry again.

When she was finished, she lightly patted my bandaged hand. "Should heal up nicely.  Sham it was your right hand though.  Won't be able to hold a pencil for a while." I frowned at this realization and gritted my teeth.

"Devon," his mother chimed, "Why don't you take her up to your room and get her some clean clothes." And with that I thanked her quietly and she left. Devon led me up to his room by my arm, unnecessary because I already knew exactly where it was, and rummaged through his drawer for a t-shirt.

I took it gingerly and stumbled into the bathroom, sliding down the door and resting on the cool tile. I buried my face in the crook of my arm, shaking uncontrollably. I got in the shower, careful not to get my bandaged hand wet, and scrubbed my memories away.