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He slams the door, closing me in. I watch him pass by the front of the truck as he’s pulling his pistol from the back of his jeans. Oh, fuck! No. No. No. This can’t be happening. He’s not thinking clearly. He’s just trying to protect me, and he’s letting his emotions get in the way of rationality. There are too many people here, and there will be no covering this up.
I quickly yank on my shorts and throw my shirt over my head. I have to stop him.
Exiting the truck at a run, I realize everyone who was out on the lawn is gone. They either went inside to see the drama unfold, or they ran the fuck away. There’s yelling, and I follow the sound of the commotion.
“The fuck you think you’re doing in my house!” Cole is thrusting his chest out. He’s still shirtless, but he must’ve thrown his pants on before he let everyone see me bleeding all over the place.
Dad holds the gun out. “The fuck I’m doing? The fuck I’m doing?” Dad asks, motioning to himself. The people who had their cameras out earlier are shocked and unable to move. “What the fuck did you do to my daughter?”
“Hold up,” Cole has his hands up, and mischief is brewing in his eyes. “Your daughter? You watched your daughter fuck me?” He starts laughing, not even worried that there’s a gun aimed at his head.
“No, I saw a boy trying to get his manhood. It doesn’t look like you found it since you’re still playing games.”
Everyone surrounding them “Ooooh’s” under their breath, and Cole’s face reddens.
“That’s not what I saw, old man.” Cole steps up to him, pointing a finger into his chest. “I saw the way she looked at you. The way she moved for you. Her pussy got even wetter. Fucking. Daddy.” He’s taunting now, and Daddy’s jaw ticks before the gun fires.
Drywall from the ceiling falls like snow around us, and people scream. There’s a ‘whoop-whoop’ outside, and the room that once pulsed with white lights has been replaced with red and blue.
Someone screams, “Oh shit, the cops!”
Everyone stampedes to the front door. I’m worried about running headfirst into the cops since Dad recently got out of jail, so I aim for the back door. I grab his arm, pulling him with me.
“Swayze,” he calls. My grip slips from his, but I keep moving, assuming he’s following.
I’m pushing through bodies that are going in the opposite direction of me until I reach the back door. I stumble a bit down the stone steps, but luckily, I right myself before I belly flop into the huge pool in front of me. If I had a pool this large, I’d open up a dolphin rescue and get my very own dolphin.
“Stop, Swayze!” Dad screams behind me. He, of all people, should know I can’t. Hell, we can’t. He can’t be taken from me again. I can’t stand it, regardless of the news I recently found out. I’m hurting now, but I’ll get over it. Eventually, but right now, I need him to follow me.
“Stop!” Dad yells, but he sounds further away.
I’m going for the trees. He can find me there. It’s about a mile, I can make it, we can make it. If I can draw him away from the cops, maybe this time I can listen and be a good girl. If I can just… When I think I can make it, fire bursts through my calf and I crash down onto the grass. What’s happening? My vision is blurry and the world tilts on its axis.
“Swayze,” Dad hollers. “I’m sorry, Swayze. I’m sorry.”
My face is against the grass, and I reach for my burning leg. It’s slick to the touch. My veins sing as if they have been released from the tomb, which is my body. The drug still frazzles my thoughts. When I bring my hand to my face, I wonder how my period blood got all the way down there.
Dad pushes me onto my back with a crazed look in his eyes as they dart back and forth between mine. I’m confused because out of all the expressions I’ve seen on his face since he’s gotten back, this one scares me the most. Is this the real him? Is this why he went away?
“Why didn’t you listen? Why didn’t you stay in the truck like I told you?” He screams before he’s pulled off me by a man in uniform. “This world isn’t safe for you.”
He’s still screaming for me, resisting the police while another stays behind to take care of my leg. I try to get up and go after him, but I’m held down by my shoulders.
“No, Miss, stay down. We’ll get you help, but you have to stay still. You’ve been shot,” the officer informs me.
My dad shot me? He really fucking shot me.
Chapter Sixteen
Dominic
Eight years later
There’s a scrape of metal on metal as the bars move in front of me. “You’re free to go,” the officer states with a monotone voice. He probably hates his life and I don’t blame him. This place is where dreams go to die.
The stale smell of urine and shit is embedded in the concrete and bricks of this place. Sometimes I wish it was blood. The initial scent, not several days old. The fresh aroma of iron. That would be better.
I don’t say a word as I pass the prison guard, I don’t want to take the chance of being taken as aggressive. They’ll find any excuse to revoke my release. I can’t stay here one second longer. I’m needed on the outside.
