Hold My Hand

Chapter 16: Trouble

I sat alone in the kitchen. My hands on a warm cup if tea. Timmy was at Claire's, and should be coming home soon.

My head shot up as they both stumbled into the door. Claire looked exhausted, and was crying. Timmy looked beaten up, barely able to stand up. I shot over to them, taking Timmy. Laying him on the couch. Claire brought over some water to wash away the blood.

"What the fuck happened!?" I asked, trying to push back the tears. The worst things went through my head. What if Timmy died as well?

"My dad was sick of him, and when we were leaving my dad was talking to him. I was in te passenger seat of his seat, and then my dad just punched him! And beat him to the ground. It took me forever to get him off of Timmy!" Claire began to cry a lot more. I hugged her, her tears falling on my shoulder.

"Shhhhh, he'll be fine. Just some blood, and a few bruises."

"But he's so hurt. I'm so sorry Mr. Tomlinson." I rubbed her back.

"It's not your fault." she didn't say anymore.

I cleaned most of the blood from Timmy. I could see a black eye forming, a swollen bottom lip, and quite a few bruises over his body. I wanted to punch Claire's father, but that would only put Claire through more tears. Why didn't her father like Timmy? I'm pretty sure he didn't even know my son. But I pushed my feelings down, just so no more trouble was caused.

"Mr. Tomlinson, can I stay here?" she stopped before continuing. "May I love here. I want to be here with Timmy, and I want to be able to do what I want to do. Not what my parents want."

"Um, you can stay here tonight, and I just need to think about you living here." she looked to the ground, tears falling down. I walked over to her, getting on my knees next to her. "But no matter what, everything will be fine." I whispered.

Claire slept outside in the living room. I gave her a pillow and a sleeping bag, he thanked me and slept on the floor next to Timmy on the couch. I fell asleep quickly. Finding my self next to Millie again. Tears were in her eyes, I pulled her close. She cried, and I knew exactly why. That shit head beat up our son, and left his daughter torn. Well, she really wanted to be here, but that's only why she thought. But over time she'll want to go back to her parents.

"Do you think I should let Claire stay here? Live with us?" I asked.

"Yes, I can't tell you why, but......" she didn't finish, and I understood. Maybe it won't work out, maybe it would. Millie knew, but she couldn't tell me. It could change everything, and Ben when she was dead their love was dangerous. Maybe that's what true love is, or it's just the kind of love me and Millie share. I nodded, an then I woke up in the bed once again. I heard someone strumming the guitar, I stepped out. Claire sat there, playing a song, or attempting to play a song on the guitar. I walked over, and corrected her fingers, and gave her a smile.

"You can stay." a smile crossed her face, she threw her arms around me.

"Thank you thank you Mr. Tomlinson!" she said, I smiled, and walked to the kitchen after she let go. Timmy was still asleep on the couch, or maybe not being able to wake up at all, but still alive. There was a knock in the door, Claire got up and tiptoed over to Timmy's room. Closing the door, but not all the way. I opened the door, and I knew why Claire hid. It was her father, Kirk.

"Where is she?" he asked, he still looked furious.

"She's not here." I said with confidence.

"What do you mean?" he said, his voice growing.

"She's not here. She dropped Timmy off and ran."

"And you allowed her to do that!"

"I was to shocked that someone had punched my son!" I was ready to punch Kirk, but had to control my self the best I could. He was taken a back by my retort.

"Then I suppose that you wouldn't mind me taking a look." I tensed, and then relaxed when I felt he floor vibrate. Claire had found the secret passage in one of the floor boards to hide. Timmy had told me that she used to come here in the middle of the night that way.

"No I don't." I held the door open for him.

After searching the house about 50 times, each time moving faster in frustration.

"Fine, what way did she go!" I pointed into the forest. The door was slammed, and I waited a while before walking into Timmy's room. I let Claire out, she hugged me immediately. I was shocked but I soon hugged her back.

"Thank you!" she said,I smiled.

"No problem." I said and we walked out together. Making sure the coast was clear. Claire sat on her sleeping bag, and strummed a few notes. Making sure to keep in my mind the corrections I made on her fingers. Timmy's eyes opened. They were droopy but still open.

"Hey," he said with a smile when he saw Claire. His voice quite and hoarse. Claire kissed his cheek, and then I walked over. He looked up at me, nothing on his face. Was he mad at me? Besides that I was just trying to take this all in. All the bruises on his body. A few on his arms and legs, two big ones on his back, and three big bruises on his stomach and torso. His neck had a few scars, along with a few on his face. His eye was almost completely black, and his bottom lip was pretty swollen. His hands had scars on them, and the back of his head had been bleeding last night. I saw a tear fall down from my cheek, and then I saw one from Timmy's. I sat at his feet, Timmy shot up. Wrapping his arms around me, and I did the same to him. I tried to hold back as many tears as I could. But a few rolled down continuously. Seeing my son like this tore me a part. Timmy was sobbing on my shoulder.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Why are you crying?" I asked.

"Just seeing your face like that, looking at all my injures, and......" he didn't finish his sentence. We just hugged for a little while, then I let him fall back down on the soft pillows. Claire was over in the kitchen, cooking three cups of tea. "Can you tell me more about mom?" over the last few months I had told Timmy many stories about Millie. He missed her so much, and wished he could've known her, and I wished that for him too. I had never told him about his mother's abusive life before, and I thought I might as well tell him.

"Your mother had a pretty hard life. Her mother and father had been killed in a car crash, so she went to live with her aunt. As a teenager he smoked weed, and one of her friend's father didn't like it, so he said that he was going to kill your mother. And she did something she totally regretted. She walked into the house in the middle of the night, and killed the entire family, including her friend. She told we aunt that she had to go, and she took a plane to London. She was out into a foster home sense she was only 16. The lady was very mean. She made the kids do chores and over time your mother was the only one left. Everyday your mother got a beating, and even when we were together it took a while before finally getting away from this awful woman." Timmy looked confused, mixed emotions in his eyes.

"So my mom was a murderer?" that wasn't a question I wanted him to ask, but I nodded my head.

"But she was young and had no idea what she was doing." Timmy's eyes showed anger, and hurt.

"I can't believe it! Is that her father hates me! Because of my mother!" I shook my head. Claire's father hasn't been here very long, and no one really talked about it. "I hate her! Thank god she's dead!" he yelled, walking to his room. I could tell he was in pain but still proceeded into his room. Slamming the door. Why did I tell him that? He hated his mother now. Millie would never want him to hate her, and now because of me, he did. I sat at the piano, flipping trough the pages. I found something that I never had seen before. It was a song that Millie had written. I looked it over, and started to learn it on the piano. She said she had written a dog for us, but I never knew she finished it. It was a song that could only be played on the piano with two people. Making sure the hands tangled together at one point. I left the song, and sat out in the porch.

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