My dad looked down at her like she was a joke at first. Too much beer had obviously riddled his brain. Shaking his head, he adjusted his vision.
I remember telling her to let it go, I remember him pushing her to the side and saying something rude as fuck, but the minute I saw him hit her, a rage that I’d never known struck me. I didn’t feel anything anymore. All I knew was he had to die.
I watched as her head snapped to the side before she went down. In that moment something cracked inside me, something other than a rib or a wrist. This time it was something deep set inside my soul. It cracked and crumbled into miniature pieces of fury.
I didn’t wait for him to come at me. Instead, I went straight for him. My fist connected to his cheek and for a second he looked at me, shocked. Years of abuse and I’d never so much as lifted my hand to him, but he crossed a line and on the other side of that line was a new me—a me that would kill someone before I let them hurt Patience.
My anger was fueled by years of being his punching bag. I saw images of him hitting my mother, images of his fist coming toward me, and finally, the image of Patience going down after he hit her ran through my mind over and over again. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to.
He could hit me all he wanted. I’d get my ass kicked every day if that was the way it was, but I drew a thick, black line at Patience. She was the only good thing, a slice of sunlight in my eternal night, snowflakes in my hell, and I’d do whatever it took to protect her from me and my world. I’d kill him for putting his hands on her.
I’d been so blinded by my red-hot rage that I didn’t even realize what I picked up. I didn’t know that I’d used my most prized possession to take my dad down. Heartbreak unlike any other ripped through me when I pulled back the broken pieces of string and wood, and tears threatened to break through.
Patience knew about my guitar. She was the only other person in the world besides my dad who knew. When I looked over at her and showed her the broken parts of the favorite memory with my mom, her face told me she understood the massiveness of what I’d just done.
My eyes met fair skin that was starting to swell and again I felt my anger rise. Breathing deep, I tried to squash it before I did something really stupid. The corner of my mouth burned and the taste of blood was on my tongue, but I was more worried about her.
Every time I looked at her, I felt like my skin was melting from my bones. I didn’t find relief until she came to me and touched me. It’s so funny. For years my dad abused me and not once had I ever truly felt angry about it, but one hit to Patience and I wanted his blood on my hands.
I thought I’d never see her again, but she was here and she was here to see me. Even after the drama from the night before, she still wanted to see me. So when she said she wouldn’t leave without me, I knew I had to go with her. I walked away from my dad’s house with barely any money in my pocket and a bag full of anything that would fit.
The strangest thing was, when we got to my car and she tried to pull away, I almost couldn’t let her go. The world felt like a jumbled mess. I felt nauseated just being a part of it, but when she was near me or touching me everything stopped spinning and I was filled with a heavy dose of clarity.
Looking through the rearview mirror, I took her in as she followed behind me in the car I didn’t know she had. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew as long as she was with me I’d be okay. The idea of needing someone to hold me together scared me shitless, but it was out there. There was no taking it back now. I needed Patience and I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she needed me too.
My El Camino threw out a puff of smoke when I cut the engine in front of the cheapest motel in town. Patience stood by the door in the front office as I paid for two nights. I could’ve stayed with Finn, but I wasn’t the kind of person to live up on my friends.
The lady behind the counter handed me my room key then smiled sheepishly at Patience. I grinned over at her when her cheeks filled with fire. She followed me to my room and I held the door open for her as we entered the dark room.
“I should probably go.” She picked at her fingernails.
I threw my bag onto the queen-sized bed then turned to her. Covering her hands with mine, I stopped her from picking at her nice fingernails.
“Don’t,” I said simply.
I wasn’t sure if she realized I was asking her to stay, but she looked up at me through those long lashes of hers and I almost forgot I was officially homeless. I almost forgot that I laid my dad out cold and destroyed the last thing I had from my mother. I couldn’t seem to remember anything from the last few hours.