Lex(141)

Ding dong–bang—bang.

“Hold on. I’m coming.” I call out to the impatient guest.

Unlocking my stained glass front door, I pull it open.

Oh!!!! God!!!!

“Open the fucking door, bitch!”

“Melissa, you need to leave.” I instinctively blurt, my eyes zoning in on the matte black shotgun she has pointed right at me.

“No bitch, I don’t. Surprised you recognize me.” She yanks my screen door open, breaking the flimsy lock. Coming though my front door, she stalks me, and I tiptoe backward, slowly, keeping my eyes on her hands. On the gun!

“Not here to kill you, boy. I’m here for my daughter.”

“You can’t have her.” I snarl.

I don’t give a shit; she’s not taking her if that’s what she’s here for.

“What’s going on mommy? Who’s here?” I hear Emma sweetly ask, emerging from the living room and into the foyer.

“Emma, go upstairs.” I order, side stepping so I can block her tiny body from the gun and the monster that birthed her into existence.

“Put the gun away, Melissa. Your issue is with me, not to scare Emma.”

A dark sadistic laugh breaks into the air from between Melissa’s taut lips. “Funny, boy. You steal my husband and now you are telling me what to do?”

I don’t have time to deal with that right now. I just need to her to leave or get Emma safely out of the room before I deal with crazy pants. This isn’t my first rodeo with a deadly weapon or a psycho. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I attract them.

“Emma…”

Emma breaks my train of thought as I feel her tiny hand touch mine, wrapping her fingers around two of my mine.

“Emma, go upstairs.”

“No Emma, come here to mommy.” Melissa changes her tone to a soft mothering one.

The conniving lunatic! My heart is hammering in my chest, and the mere thought of Melissa calling herself mommy has the hair on the back of my neck standing attention. The nerve of this deranged psychopath!

I raise my brow to the aimed gun and Melissa lowers it to her side. Tucking it against her leg, the nuzzle resting on my floor. Thank God!

Finally, safely able to break my concrete stare on Melissa, I turn to the side and kneel. Emma doesn’t waste a second to have her arms wrapped around my neck. Her head buried into the curve my neck.

“It’s okay, Sweetie.” I whisper into her ear, holding onto her little body, protectively enveloping her in my everlasting love.

Emma’s body begins to tremble, wetness from tears dampen my neck. Emma’s scared and she’s crying, and this monster did this to her. Come hell or high water, one way or another I will make sure this never happens to Emma again.

Rubbing my hand along Emma’s back to soothe her. I keep the corner of my eye latched onto Melissa. She’s just standing in a pair of dark jeans and a yellow t-shirt. Her facial expression unmistakably dumbfounded, watching Emma hold onto me for dear life.

“That’s enough. Come to mommy, Emma. I’m taking you with me.” Melissa orders, hardness cloaking her tone this time.

Emma sobs into my neck and Melissa takes a step forward.

“No.” I warn Melissa, as I hold onto Emma tighter.

If this bitch think’s she is going to win, she has another thing coming.

“Leave Melissa and go home. You’re scaring her.”

“She’s coming with me.”

Oh no she’s not!

Turning my head so my lips are pressed to the shell of Emma’s ear, I whisper. “Emma, go upstairs, go into your bedroom, lock the door, and hide in your closet. Don’t leave there until daddy or I come and find you.”

Emma sluggishly shakes her head.

“Yes, Princess.”

“She has a gun.” Emma whisper whines into my shoulder, sucking in a whimpering breath.

“I know, Princess. But I promise I’ll be fine. Just go upstairs. Do as I tell you.”

Releasing Emma, I firmly stand and maneuver myself so Melissa can’t touch her. Emma reluctantly lets go of my hand and I hear her little footsteps hurriedly fleeing the room.

“Where is she going?”

Melissa is obviously not the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Emma is changing her clothes right now. And you and I are going to talk.”

“You fucking liar!” Melissa screams her face turning bright red as she swiftly swings the gun back into her hand, aiming the thick round barrel right at my chest.

If I die today, please God, make Emma survive. I’m doing this for her.



Gage





“You’re sure she’s not on her way to the session today?”

I’m speaking to Melissa’s anger management therapist that was court mandated last Thursday by a judge for her to attend. She has a twelve-week course she has to complete before she is granted visitation with Emma. Which, if you ask me, is getting off lightly.