Page 59 of Hate It with You

I don’t bother to grab my discarded shirt or say a word before leaving her apartment and latching the door behind me.

23

BETH

Almost two weeks since Alex left me standing in my apartment after the most mind-blowing sex of my life. I can’t blame him for leaving. Turning him down for dinner was the last thing I wanted to do, but the moment he asked me the question, my mind flashed back to Frank’s note, and I was too afraid to agree.

I can’t bring myself to put him in danger.

Lying in bed, I let the cool night air waft in through the cracked window. My body cools, a gust of wind picking up outside and blanketing me with a chill. Only the small lamp on my bedside table lights my surroundings as I stare at the notes in my hands, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out a way I can explain this to Alex without him getting involved. Without Frank finding out.

Why won’t he leave me alone?

Out of the corner of my eye, the light on the camera I left propped on my dresser turns on. The same way it’s done every night since Alex left me alone in my apartment. The first night, as I lay in bed, I was contemplating whether to unplug it when the light turned on for the first time. Only for a few seconds, as though he was making sure I was okay. Making sure I was safe.

Although I might be exaggerating that last part.

I watch the light on the camera as it stays on, a few seconds longer tonight than on previous nights. I don’t say anything. I don’t move. I watch as Alex watches over me from the other side of the bedroom wall we share.

The moment is fleeting as the small blue light is snuffed out, leaving me alone with my own thoughts once again.

The old flooring in my childhood home creaks beneath my footsteps, my heart pumping as I race to make it to my bedroom. Holes in the drywall decorate the hallway, and I narrowly avoid a broken picture frame with my bare feet, stepping on a small shard of glass in my haste. I push past the pain as I make my way down the hallway.

Frank booms after me, whiskey bottle in hand. “You little piece of shit, get back here.” I keep my pace, hoping I’ll make it to my bedroom before he can catch me.

I’m running slower than usual, the hallway appearing to lengthen as I put all my effort into running faster. A sigh escapes me when I finally make it to my door, gasping for air as I catch my breath. Slamming the door shut, I secure a chair underneath the doorknob.

I watch, limbs shaking, as the doorknob begins to turn. Frank jiggles it from the other side. The door shakes as he begins to bang on it repeatedly. I stand motionless in the middle of my bedroom, my eyes locked in on the door. I stay frozen as I watch the door break open. The chair flies across the room, narrowly missing my head.

Two hands grab my arms, gripping with a searing pain that burns through my skin beneath the pressure.

I try to scream for help, but I’m paralyzed, my body unable to make but a whisper of a sound.

“Beth…” My name sounds faintly through the air, my heart banging against my rib cage.

“Beth… you’re okay, baby… I got you…” the familiar voice coos in my ear. A soft, gentle touch replaces the burning sensation in my arms as I’m slowly brought to wake.

My blankets lay heavy along my body, taking more effort than I expect to throw them off me so I can catch my breath. When I finally open my eyes, Alex comes into view, sitting on the edge of my bed, hands on either side of my arms. His fingers brush up and down my triceps as he calmly waits for me to awaken.

Once my brain recognizes that I’m far from my childhood home, tears spring from my eyes. My arms almost give out on me when I work to push my numb body into a sitting position.

Once I do, I collapse into Alex, squeezing my arms around his waist as he gently runs his fingers through my hair. He sits there quietly as I let what’s been building inside me out through my tears.

The nightmare was merely a memory. One I remember all too well. Benny had launched a foam arrow in the living room. It hit Mom’s vase of flowers, shattering it on the floor. Frank came stomping in through the kitchen.

Taking the blame was never something I had to think twice about. I couldn’t bear to watch Benny take a beating the same way I did. Which only happened when Mom worked overnight, and Frank found himself halfway through a bottle of liquor. Unfortunately for me, that was most nights.

When my tears eventually fade, Alex pulls back only briefly to hand me the glass of water sitting on my bedside table. He urges me to take a sip, and I do. The water works wonders, calming my body from the inside.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, looking at me with a pain in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

I nod my head slowly, the words of what’s been going on sitting in the back of my throat but unable to escape.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on?” The question is soft, as he brushes a loose strand of hair from my face.

I try to open my mouth, but no words come out. The answer to the question is still lodged in my throat.

He grabs my hand, squeezing gently, his mouth opening as he begins to speak, but he’s cut off. The loud sound of glass shattering booms from beneath my bedroom, amplified by my open window.