Storyteller

Chapter 15

Faith POV: 

After hitting the only address located in the state on the GPS, I end up at a large house near Vanderbilt. There's a gate, so I say my name, before they open up wide, letting me into a large house. I get out of the truck, and walk up the walkway to the house, feeling a little anxious. I guess I trust this person. I mean, it shows that I'm here pretty often on the GPS. 

I ring the doorbell, to have the door open almost immediately. A young girl opens up with a bright smile. She looks like she's in her early twenties. She has blonde hair, green eyes, and little puppies behind her as she stands in the doorway with a t-shirt and shorts on. She opens up the door wide enough for me to come in. 

"I thought he wouldn't hurt you after the whole stroke thing." The girl says, hurrying to somewhere in the back of the house. I follow her, while her smile progressively fades. She walks into her massive kitchen, and pulls out a barstool at the island for me. She pats on it, motioning me to sit. She then grabs a frozen bag of peas, a glass of water, and some advil and places them on the counter beside me. She pulls up a barstool and sits beside me, before exhaling deeply. 

"Who are you?" I ask, holding the peas against my eye where he hit. She smiles a sad smile, and runs around grabbing more things. 

"Carrie. You mentored me and now we are songwriting partners." She says, slapping a notepad on the counter. She pushes it my way, giving me permission to look through it. I flip through a few songs that are absolutely gorgeous, and heartbreaking. 

"Did you write these?" I ask her. She shakes her head, and flips through them herself. 

"You wrote them. They're about Tim... That was really the only way you had to talk about it." She says, going behind me and messing with my hair. I freeze, feeling a little on edge, before I notice she's braiding it. She and I must've been close... "You'd come over here after Tim hit you and we'd talk about it sometimes. Other times I just kept you distracted." She clarifies, making me feel a little less ashamed. 

"I don't know why he hit me." I release, as she finishes the braid. She sits down across from me again. 

"What was happening?" She asks, placing her elbow on the granite countertop. She rests her head on her hand. 

"I was drinking wine and sitting outside, and he came out, threw the bottle at a tree, and then punched me." I say, having to no idea how to make sense of it. Carrie bites her lip. 

"Last time you drank, you got wasted, and wrecked your car in the middle of nowhere. You nearly died..." She says quietly, looking a little disheartened. I cringe, knowing that Tim watched me take off in the truck. "I think it was like 1999? So like eight years ago. You said that you had just told Tim you were pregnant earlier that week, and you ended up losing the baby because of the accident. You were in a coma for like two weeks." She says, wincing a bit. "You wrote a song about it." She lets out a little laugh, grabbing a different notebook that we must've worked in. "Tim recorded it actually. Went on his album this year." She says, handing me a piece of paper with the title Nothin' To Die For. 

"I don't want to go near him anymore." I cry out. She nods, and place her hand sympathetically on my shoulder. "He was sober... He was stone cold sober and he punched me." I break down completely, placing my head against her shoulder. She rubs my back, and hushes me. 

We fall asleep on the couch, watching the Housewives of New York City, and eating cheetos. She's a good friend, and has managed to keep me calm and distracted. 

That is, until I wake up and see she's not there. A balled up blanket sits where she had been all night, as I hear voices in the kitchen. They whisper aggressively at one another. 

"You shouldn't be here." I hear Carrie say to someone else. 

"She could've killed herself, do you understand that?" I hear Tim growl. I feel myself grow tense. I want him to leave, now. I curl up under the blanket, and try to cover my eyes. I don't want to see him. 

"You hit her again, Tim. She had every right to leave." Carrie whispers, sounding more than angry. 

"She did, but she was also heavily intoxicated, Carrie, and driving! I wasn't just going to not follow her and let her wind up in a ditch again for twenty hours, alright?" He sounds as if he's crying. I listen closely as Carrie clears her throat. 

"Well, she's fine now. You should leave." Carrie says sternly. I stare at the edge of her wooden coffee table. Tim takes a deep breath. I hear the chair creak and footsteps begin to sound on the hardwood floor. He comes in front of me before I can pretend to be asleep, and hits his knees. He reaches for my hand, but I pull away. 

"I'm sorry." He says looking me in the eyes. My one eye hurts badly. He places his thumb in the center of the bruise, and brushes it, to make sure it's tangible. I feel a fire burn in my stomach. 

"You disgust me." I spit out, causing his demeanor to change. "I hate you..." I add, narrowing my eyes at him. Carrie comes to Tim's side, and grabs his arm, trying to drag him out. He brushes her off and stares at me a little longer. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you last night." His voice rasps. I shake my head, and start to cry. 

"I remember you hurting me." I confess. "The only thing I remember is you hurting me..." I start to shout, sitting up. He stays on his knees and watches me carefully. He places his thumb against the corner of my mouth, and starts to play his mind games. 

I know what he's doing... He's trying to make me feel small, like a little girl... Like the teenage girl who would do anything to make sure he stayed happy and proud of me. He wants me to become weak and rely on him again, but I won't. I refuse to. 

"Get the hell away from me." I warn, pushing his arm away. He puts his arms down at his side, and stands slowly. He looks down at me, another interrogation technique. He shakes his head slowly, and looks at Carrie as if he were ashamed of me. 

"I told you, you should've left." Carrie says confidently, crossing her arms in front of her, and watching Tim with intense eyes. Tim looks back down at me, and contemplates what to say. 

"I love you, and I'm sorry." He says, walking out. We wait until we hear the door slam to move. 

"How long has he been here?" I ask, feeling anxious. Carrie looks at the clock. 

"Only about fifteen minutes. He wanted to make sure you made it somewhere safe." She says, sitting down beside me. "That reaction kind of surprised me." She recalls, looking over toward me. 

"Why?" I ask, grabbing my glass of water off the coffee table and taking a sip.

"Normally, you go through an event like last night, and then when he shows up, you usually forgive him." She says, her southern twang sounding thicker this morning. My eye throbs as I stand up and look out the window. "So is this for real then? Are you done with him?" She asks. I nod, and take a deep breath. 

"Yeah... Yeah I'm done."