Igniting Her

Chapter Nine

My head is throbbing and feels heavy, but I force myself to the shower, needing to scrub away the grime from Richard's touch and find something to calm myself. My movements are jittery as the adrenaline dwindles still coursing through me, but I manage a quick wash. I change directly into my comfortable pyjama bottoms, t-shirt, and loose hoodie, knowing I am going to be going straight to sleep. I am exhausted from the little activity, and my body is aching from my hangover topped with Richard’s assault. Slumping onto the bed, I hiss in pain when I go to rest my face in my hands. My cheek has swollen significantly, and the split in my lip stings. Fuck, that smarts.

Rummaging in my bedside table, I pull out a framed photo of my parents with me, needing comfort. The photo is a candid someone snapped while my parents were at a park, I am sat on Mom’s lap my pudgy cheeks lifted in a wide grin that highlights the absence of littlw teeth. It is my favourite photo of them because even Dad looks blissfully happy. His black hair, that I inherited, is ruffled as he looks down at Mom and I with pure joy and elation lighting up his face. He looks so young. Mom looks carefree and beams up at Dad adoringly with her big brown eyes, so similar to my own. We look like a perfect little family.

The comfort of seeing their faces only lasts a moment before it gives way to more unfavourable thoughts. Tracing my parents smiling faces with my finger, I search for evidence of the tragedy to come in their faces. There is nothing in my father's expression to hint at the inner demons that will take him when I am twelve. He is just a happy family man admiring his child and sweetly oblivious wife. I shove the picture back into my drawer and close it, knowing where my mind is headed. The what ifs.

Mom admitted Dad never let either of us see how the weight of the world was crushing him. Now that I am older I can understand the burden that comes with being an adult and compared to him I have it easy, with only myself to worry about. Deep seeded guilt always has me questioning what I could have done different to save Dad. Logically, I know I was only a kid, and there was nothing I could have done to fix his depression. But feelings are anything but logical, and I always find myself wishing I had been a better daughter; maybe better behaved or a bigger help, anything that would have created less stress and prevented that wicked twist of fate.

Forcing myself from the drowning thoughts, I check my phone and realize it is already 8:30 pm. Talk about getting lost in your own head.  I quickly gathered my bag, leaving my childhood home, once a sanctuary, but now just housed the monster in my life. Blaring my music thankfully makes the fifteen minute drive short and mindless. Slowly making my way to the front door, but before I can knock, Andrew is whipping open the door for me.

His face crumples when he gets a good look at me under the porch light, “Fuck Natalia, Dick did a number on you this time,” he sighs pulling me into his warm embrace. I supress the flinch as his hands land on a particular sore spot. He smells of fresh lemony laundry detergent, like he always has, and I let it sooth me. “Come in,” Andrew urges, pulling me into the house, “we just need to be quiet. My parents are in bed.”

The living room is silent with reflections of the porch light on framed photos flashing and dimly illuminating the area. Andrew keeps his arm around my shoulder, guiding me upstairs to his room. We tip toe past his parents' door so as to not disturb them. Honestly, I don’t know if I could handle them seeing me like this. Andrew holds open his door for me, and I move into the room where we spent countless hours when we were kids. My home away from home.

Dropping my bag by the door, I breathe a sigh of relief, just before Andrew is tugging me to sit on his navy coloured comforter. He bends down, quickly surveying my marred face, an angry sigh passes his lips, and he is leaving the room. Before I can even move from my spot, Andrew is swinging open the door, his arms full of a first aid kit, cloths, and an ice pack.

Dumping everything to the floor beside the bed, he wedges himself between my legs and pulls out medical supplies. I watch as he tenderly dabs at the cut on my lip and repeats the motion over my eyebrow and forehead. Andrew’s eyes are focussed, but there is a shadow of anger as he tends to my wounds. He applies a stinging antiseptic to my cuts, which has me hissing. Gently blowing his warm breath on them, he soothes the bite.

Once Andrew is content with his medical attention, he locks me in a grave stare. “Natalia, you need to call the police and report what Richard did to you,” he practically growls. “This is not the first time he has assaulted you, and if nothing is done, it won’t be the last.” He presses the ice pack to my swollen cheek, only moving to sit beside me when I replace his hand with my own.

“It was my fault,” I sigh, “he got handsy, and I hit him before I could think of the consequences. If I had just walked away, I wouldn’t be in this state.” I turn to look at one of my oldest friends and startle at what I see.

Andrew’s beautiful green eyes are dark and intense while he clenches his jaw. “That is bullshit Natalia. Complete and utter bullshit,” his anger hangs between us. A frustrated sigh passes through his lips. “He is supposed to be a grown man and your stepfather. So, he should have never been getting handsy in the first place. He is supposed to protect you, not beat you. Your mom…”

“Mom asked Richard and I to look after each other, on her death bed,” I cut off his rant. I can’t handle looking at the rage in my sweet friend’s eyes, so I stare at my lap and play with the hem of my hoodie. “I can’t break my word to my mom, Andrew,” I mumble.

Firm, but gentle fingers have my head lifting and turning to meet Andrew’s vivid orbs, the colour of a cut grass. “I grew up around your mom, and I know she would not be okay with Richard’s behaviour since she died. Your mom would be telling you to charge his ass and kick him out of YOUR house,” he finishes with conviction.

I know Andrew is right because, honestly, if Mom was around, she would do much worse to Richard. With soft blonde hair and brown doe eyes, my mom had looked sweet, but underneath all that, she was a mama bear. I remember once holding her back when a girl had dared to lay a hand on me. If Mom was here, knowing what Richard has done, she might have just killed and buried him herself, all while humming and wearing a sweet smile. I miss you, mom. I wish I was as strong as you.

All arguments die on my tongue, “I will think about talking to the police,” holding my hand up to stifle Andrew’s protests, “but for now can we just watch a movie and go to sleep? I am exhausted,” I yawn out.

Andrew shoots me a pointed look but relents with a sigh, “Fine, but this conversation isn’t over.”

He gets up and throws a movie into the television at the end of the bed while I slip under his warm blankets. I hold the comforter up for him as I shimmy to the far side of the bed, making room. Andrew slides in beside me and lays back on his pillow. The introduction to one of my favourite childhood movies comes on, and I can not help but beam at him.

It has been a long time, but it is not the first time Andrew has taken care of me after one of Richard’s outbursts; he knows the nostalgia of a better time, comforts me. He catches my grin out of the corner of his eye and returns the gesture with a lopsided smile. “Come on, get comfortable,” he urges, lifting his arm to me.

Gently, I lean my head on his shoulder as his arm rests behind me. “Thank you for this, Andrew. You are the best friend a girl could ask for.”

Something passes across his expression, but before I can decipher it, the emotion is gone. “Go to sleep, Tally,” he mutters, closing his eyes.

The use of his childhood nickname for me warms my heart, and I know I am truly blessed to have him as my friend. With that thought, I let the movie lull me to sleep in the safety of Andrew’s presence.

My alarm starts screaming at me that it is time to get up and I groan. All I want to do is smash the fucking thing and drift back to sleep. My night had been peaceful and free of the usual nightmares Richard’s attacks bring on. I don’t want to let that go yet. Argh, why do my advertising and economics classes have to start today?

Beside me Andrew groans, “Tally, what the hell?” Flopping over he practically hurtles my phone at me from his nightstand. “Make it stop,” he grumbles as he throws himself back into his pillow.

Silencing my alarm, I heave a sigh and force myself to sit up. With sleepy limbs I clamber over Andrew trying to avoid hurting him with my clumsiness. “Sorry, go back to sleep. I will talk to you later.”

Grabbing my bag, I quietly slip into the hallway and make my way to the bathroom. Luckily, it is only 6:30 am, so I shouldn’t run into Andrew’s parents. They have known me most of my life, and were friends with my mom. I can only imagine the questions if they saw the state of me. I swore Rachel, Ginger and Andrew to secrecy about Richard a long time ago and I am not in the right mind to explain anything to anyone else. Plus just thinking of the pity Andrew’s parents would pump out, makes shooting myself in the foot more appealing.

After quickly dressing in my jeans, and a loose hoodie, I hurry down the steps to the front door.

“Natalia, is that you?” Mrs. Thomson calls from the kitchen.

“Yeah, hi Mrs. T, it’s me,” I answer throwing my hood up, to make sure my face is hidden.

“It has been too long dear,” she coos. “Are you staying for breakfast?” The mouth watering scent of bacon reaches my nose, causing my stomach to give an audible grumble.

“Uhh, sorry I have classes to get ready for. Maybe next time.”

“I am going to hold you to it,” she chuckles. A brief silence and I am reaching for the handle, “Amanda and James would be so proud of you Natalia,” Mrs. Thomson sighs from in the kitchen behind me. I grip the door handle, trying to reign in tears that threaten to fall. “Have a good day sweetie.”

“Thanks Mrs. T,” I utter and bolt from the house like my ass caught fire.

Tossing my bag in the back, I slide into the front seat and grip my steering wheel like it is my life line. Taking deep steady breathes, I try to calm myself. I know Mrs. Thomson meant well telling me my parents would be proud but damn it hit me right in the gut like an emotional wrecking ball. Lifting my head I pray gravity will help me keep the stupid tears at bay. A few errant ones spill out and I am scrubbing them away. Damn it, I hate crying. Stop being a whiny bitch, Natalia!

My stomach cramps and roars in protest at the detectible smelling food I abandoned. Why the hell am I so hungry? It was not out of character for me to skip breakfast, but then I realize I did not eat yesterday, my last meal being with Lucas. Rumbling loudly, my stomach demands to be fed. Ruby’s Diner it is. I back out of the driveway and let the local radio play quietly, as a mind numbing white noise while I drive.

No other vehicles are at the diner when I pull up, and I sigh in relief that I don’t have to be social or deal with looks at my beaten face. School is going to be interesting, since the Fall semester is in full swing and will be brimming with people. I shudder thinking how the expressions will range from pity to disgust, each person forming their own theory as to why I am in this state.  Judgement for things they have no idea about.

With a sigh I force myself to go in the diner. I can at least solve the issue of my vocal stomach, dealing with people can be a later problem. One step at a time. As soon as I am seated in my regular booth Mable comes out beaming from the kitchen, still laughing from something Flora said.

Mable approaches my table, and I see the moment she notices my face; her light expression twist with anger and the shadow of a mama bear shines. She slips in the seat across from me, and reaches for my hands laid across the table. Her worn hands clasp mine, support and caring emanating from the simple touch.

“What can I do for you, dear?” She asks simply. No probing questions about what happened just a life line thrown my way. Tears are burning my eyes, begging for freedom and I was just so grateful for Mable in that moment.

Lifting my head a little higher I give her a watery grin, “Can I get a sausage scrambler, please?”

Mable gives me a tight lipped smile; I can see the disappointment, but gentle acceptance with my choice. “Okay honey,” her look is serious, “but you tell me if there is anything else I can do, okay?” She gently pats my hand with a sigh, sliding from the booth and leaving with sadness flowing in her warm brown eyes.

I could tell Mable and she would help me break free from Richard or even Andrew and his parents would. I could just charge Richard and they would haul him away. Cut him from my life. My heart squeezes and that little thought of Richard being gone, feels like losing another connection to Mom. A fucked up and twisted connection, but still someone tied to my mom.

My phone gives a violent buzz pulling me from my warped reasoning. Opening up my phone I find a dozen missed calls and twice as many text messages. Oh look at me being popular. I scoffed as I scanned the missed calls finding every single one from Jason. The delusion and gall of that sad excuse of a man thinking that I would talk to him. Not happening!

Moving to the text messages, the most recent and the majority being from Jason. I deleted the whole conversation, refusing to open any of his messages. He was able to manipulating me into staying all that time, so I was not about to give him any opportunities. The lingering rage telling me to run him over was a pretty good guarantee he couldn’t trick me, but I wasn’t chancing shit.

The only unopened text left was from an unknown number, and my brain went to Asher instantly. A sliver of excitement worms it’s way into my stomach.

Unknown: Good morning, Bella. Have lunch with Lucas and I today.

My fingers itch to respond with an emphatic yes, but remembering my injuries, I hesitate. Asher and Lucas embody perfection with handsome faces, chiseled physiques and skilled touches that heat my core with just a memory; they could have anyone they wanted. Beyond logic they seemed to want my ample body but if they saw how broken my life is, I am sure they would change their minds. Perfection like theirs deserved someone exquisite not the shamble that I am. I quickly respond with the excuse of being busy with classes and work today.

Mable silently places my breakfast on the table, granting me a small smile before leaving me in peace with my food. I attack the plate, shovelling down the sustenance and barely tasting it. I only make it halfway though before my stomach gives an unpleasant heave and can not bring myself to eat another bite. The not so quiet part of my brain was screaming at me that I was just making myself fatter eating like a pig; never mind it being my only food in the last twenty-four hours.

I push the food away and toss the cash to cover the bill on the table. Usually I would chat with Mable and Flora before heading out, but I can not bring myself to be social. The small comfort than none of my friends should be in my classes, helps me to drag myself to the school.

Sitting in my car I stare at the tall building of the college, wanting nothing more than to curl up in my backseat and sleep. Advertising and economics should be easy and thoughtless today, being the first classes, but I still have to force my body to exit my warm and cozy Neon. Opening the back, to grab my bag, I find the beautiful rose from Lucas. It is a little wilted from being in my car but as I breathe in the flower I find it still potent with the sweet aroma. Exchanging the flower for my bag, I square my shoulders determined to get this day over with. I can fucking do this shit.