Every Second Counts

Chapter Twenty Five

I'M FRANTIC.

I don't know what to do.

How to protect myself.

I'm fixated on the small gun in his hand, aimed at me. He gestures and grunts, 'Get up.'

I pull myself up off the floor, buckling over in pain. My mind races. It's all over the place and my father's words ring loudly in my ears, 'Athena, you need to build yourself up, give yourself a sporting chance if the need ever arises.' But no, it wasn't my thing in those days and the odd brisk walk to work was the only exercise I undertook.

And here I am cowering on my couch right now, looking at the man who thumped the hell out of me. OK, so since my parents murders I am now a practicing gym member and an accomplished kick boxer, BUT I'm not street savvy when it comes to protecting myself from criminal brawn!

He slips his gun back into his pocket. 'Right, we talk. And you listen.' God, I'm bloody going to listen. I'm not going to get at the wrong end of his huge fists, ever again.

'I'm real sorry. I aint never hit a woman before,' he says.

Somehow, that remark makes me stupid! 'Yeah. You got a daughter about my age. Remember? What would you do if someone thumped her like you just did to me? I bet they wouldn't be on the right side of the grass anymore. Right?'

Geeze, I am such an idiot. The Hulk stands up and glares at me. But, instead of giving me another belting he says, 'For your information, my daughter is a hell of a lot smarter than you. When I give her advice she knows it's in her best interest to take it.'

Bloody hell! I'm going to have to go to anger management courses. I know that the minute I open my big bloody mouth again and yell, 'Well lucky for her. Her parents haven't been gunned down. Mercilessly. In front of her. Am I right?' Obviously. 'So, if she cares for you as much as you think she does, if it happened that you and your significant other was shot through the head...right in front of her eyes, don't you think she would be on the warpath to find the motherfucker who whacked you both? Take them down?'

I slump further back into my couch. The Hulk is gonna have to grab me up, stand me on my feet before he is able to take another swing at me.

My heart is in my mouth, like I really think it's there somewhere because there is a lump in my throat and I can hardly breath as I see this mountain of a man walk slowly and deliberately toward me.

He's wavy on account of the tears in my eyes. And I'm whimpering like a fucking idiot, 'Please don't hurt me again.' I know I should add, 'I won't try to find Reuben Houston,' but I don't. It would be a lie. I know Athena Morisot could not take another beating like The Hulk has just given me. But, Red Picasso can. And I'll take my chances, thank you very much!

Honest to God, I nearly pass out when The Hulk makes it to the couch, reaches out with his thumping bloody big mitts and dabs at my eyes with a handkerchief. A white handkerchief? What planet have I been thumped into?

I think what is happening right now, is a surprise even to this thug. He looks fucking weird. OK. Now I know what it is about him that looks weird. He's thinking. Going back in his mind, where to, I'm not sure. But something I have just said is resonating. I take my chance. 'Where are we at?' I ask.

'I'm not sure,' he says. 'But one thing is for sure, if you carry on this fucking crusade of yours, you'll be laid out, right next to your folks.' Then he leaves.

* * *

I would like to say that I considered following The Hulk's advice longer than 24 hours. But it is untrue. Admittedly, during that 24 hours, I was a total wreck. The pain in my stomach where he belted me will subside, I know. But it will be replaced with one hell of a bruise, a bruise which will make sure I' don't get naked in front of men for quite some time! Sleep was catastrophic and now my usual nightmares of my parents being gunned down, Patrick falling to his death and weird images of when I was but six years old were chased around by me being axed into small pieces by Reuben, The Hulk and The Fixer. A face of a girl fixing her hair with my mother's clasps flashed in my nightmares which I assume is meant to be my sister who could be in a life threatening situation. The night terrors of Damien as a zombie is mortifying.