What Fate has in store

Part 2

Rafe

   I skipped school the day of Micah's funeral. I knew my dad was going because I heard him talking on his cell phone to someone about seeing them there. I guess it's because Malia's dads a cop too. I didn't care why, I just knew I had to be there for her.
   I stood mixed in with the hundreds of other kids there wearing a baseball hat so I could blend in, in case I saw my dad. I knew I couldn't go up to her but she knew I was there. As soon as I walked into the church she looked up and our eyes connected. Like she could feel me the way I can feel her.
   She looked so sad and I just wanted to hold her. Every one of her tears hit me straight in the heart. She looked beautiful wearing a navy blue dress that made her look like a little girl. It hid all of her delicious curves I got to feel less then a week ago.
   I hate that the worst day of her life is the best day of mine. I know we went too far but she was begging me with her eyes and her words. I'd give her anything she wanted if it would take her hurt away. We were stupid and didn't even think about protection. She hasn't mentioned it and I'm afraid to say anything to add to her stress. I'll worry for the both of us for now.
   I fell in love with Malia Harris before I even met her. The pictures and gifts she gave me after my dads beatings meant the world to me. At first I was mad. Someone was a witness to my hell. The embarressment alone killed me. But as time went on I looked forward to her gifts.
   Then when I met her and saw how beautiful she was and it cemented my feelings for her. We never talked about what my dad does to me or my mom but we didn't need too. I once admitted I could never leave my mom and sister with him alone so I took it but that was the one and only time anything was said on the issue.
   Over all these years we've tried to get away from my dad. I've called the police so many times just to have the cops come to our house to protect him instead of us. They always buried it before the powers that be could catch wind and help. The ole boys club was alive and well in the good old NYPD. My mom tried to get us help too but with no means to support us her hands were tied and that's how my father liked it. Us too dependent on him to leave.
   The worst for me wasn't the beatings. The worst was him randomly showing up to my baseball games and practices pretending to be a good and loving dad. Those were the worst. Knowing if I didn't pitch a winning game I was almost definitely getting a beating that night.
   I know a lot of abusers can blame it on alcohol and or drugs too. Claiming it turns them into other people like their demons come out to play but with Frank Molino he didn't need substances to beat his wife and son. He was a bastard to us even sober.
   I also knew one thing for sure, Malia would never meet my father. Frank Molino would take one look at Malia and would only think one thing. Nigger. Even though she is a blonde with blue eyes her mother is still half black making her skin just dark enough for my father to spew the most hateful word in the English language about her and to me thats unexceptable. I would never let my father hurt the most beautiful and special person in my life that way. Ever!

The day after the funeral Malia and her parents took a trip to Minnesota to her moms best friends house. Micah loved it there and they were going to scatter his ashes on his favorite hiking path.
   They had been gone for a week and were due home this afternoon. I skipped baseball practice so I could be there to see her when she got home. I missed her so much it hurt. I expected my mom to be home with my sister who stayed home from school sick today and my dad was working thankfully. He would be pissed if he knew I was skipping practice.
   I exited the elevator on our floor and almost ran over Mrs. Duggan in my rush to get home to see my girl. Apologizing over and over again I grabbed her trash and took it to the shoot for her since that's where she was going when I ran into her. Literally.
   Our door was locked when I got there so I used my key to get in. I saw my mother as soon as I walked in. She was in a heap on the floor. Her face was unreconizable with all her blood on it. Her left arm was bent at an odd angle and I could see a bloody bone sticking out of it.
   I froze in shock until I heard a whimper from down the hall. Quietly walking toward the sound I could see my sister Toni's door to her room was almost all the way open. I heard my father whispering in between Toni's whimpers so I silently looked inside her room.
   I wasn't sure at first what I was seeing. My dad in all his rages had never once hurt Toni. Antonia Maria Molino was his little princess and the only one safe in the apartment from his wrath.
   Toni was laying on her bed with her white teeshirt rucked up under her chin and arm pits exposing her young twelve year old barely there breasts. Her shorts and panties were on the floor next to her bed. She had tears falling down her face and she looked terrified.
   My father was holding Toni down by a hand on her chest. His hands looked like he tried to wipe blood off of them. His hands were stained a dark red color. Except for the pointer and ring finger on his right hand. Those showed fresh bright wet red blood that was getting on Toni's white teeshirt coloring it red where his hand held her down.
   I saw red as my fathers left hand was holding his dick rubbing it up and down my sisters blood wet vagina. His pants were only pulled down far enough to get his dick out and he was whispering to her to 'shhh its okay. Daddy just wants to love you princess' over and over again.
   I don't remember what happened next except my sister turned and looked me in the eyes and I lost it. My head was filled with static and not realizing I still was carrying my baseball bat I let it fly at my fathers head. I think I just meant to stop him from rapeing my sister. He had already done so much damage by molesting her that I didn't even think about it I just kept swinging and screaming nonsense at him.
   Toni got out from under him and cowarded in the corner as I beat my father with my baseball bat for what he was doing to my sister, the beatings he gave my mom and for all the beatings he gave me. I didn't stop until a large cop behind me tasered me into dropping the bat.
   Once I was down the officer got his cuffs on me and called for back up and ambulances, three of them. I could see Mrs. Duggan peeking into Toni's room and gasped at the sight. Toni was crouched in the corner, naked from the waist down, her teeshirt still under her chin, tears wetting her face and blood on her upper thighs. My father was a bloody mess on top of Toni's pink comforter and I was covered in my fathers blood handcuffed on the rug next to the bed with my own tears running down my face.
   A half hour later, after they rushed both my mother and sister out to the hospital, they loaded my father into a body bag. They were still bagging evidence when they escorted me to a waiting cruiser after I was read my rights.
   I didn't care about myself. But I needed to know my mother and sister were okay. It took three days for my public defender to get me word on my mother and Toni.