I felt another pair of hands on my still-tied arms. “Let me have her, bro.” Nik lifted me into his arms and carried me to what I realized was Layla’s Tahoe. He didn’t say a word as he placed me on the second row of seats and used a knife to untie my hands before cutting through the duct tape around my ankles.
“Motherfucker!” I heard Dad roar followed by the sound of groaning. I closed my eyes, knowing that Jesse Thorton was ripping Vince Grady apart.
The sounds of flesh hitting flesh, groans and curses, filled my ears and I covered them with my now free hands. I had never been scared of the dark before, but it suddenly felt like it was closing in on me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
“Deep breaths, Lucy.” Nik’s big hand rubbed circles on my back. “It’s okay, baby cakes. You’re okay.”
“Make it stop,” I pleaded. “Please, Nik. Please make it stop.”
His blue eyes were cloudy in the dim lighting of the overhead light in the Tahoe. I knew in that minute he didn’t want to stop my dad from beating the man to death. Part of me didn’t either, and that just made me sick to my stomach. “Put your seatbelt on, sweetheart.” He leaned forward and kissed my right temple, being careful not to touch any part of my face that was throbbing. A hard task since my entire face was one big ache.
Nik stepped back and shut the door of the Tahoe. I didn’t move, but kept my eyes on Nik as he walked toward the front of the SUV and pulled Dad away from Vince. Dad said something that I couldn’t hear because it was practically sound proof in here. Nik didn’t seem scared of Dad like this and pointed toward me as he said something back. Before my eyes I saw another change in my dad. His shoulders seemed to droop and his head bowed.
Dad stood like that for a minute then nodded. He didn’t look back as he walked toward me. Nik just stood there for a long moment. His back to me, but his shoulders told me that he was in a bad place. It took a lot to get him as mad as he was right then. He was the calm one most of the time. The one I expected to have his cool in any situation.
The back door to the Tahoe opened just as Nik lifted his foot and stomped. I heard something crunch and Nik stomped his foot again and again. I nearly gagged at the sound that came from Vince. It was full of pain and something else that I recognized only because I had been feeling it for hours. Fear.
Then, as if he hadn’t just left a man broken and bloody, Nik turned around and got in behind the wheel while Dad climbed in beside me. No sooner was the door shut behind me was I climbing in his lap, and my tears just wouldn’t stop.
From the front seat I heard Nik talking to someone. “We have her… Can you meet us in the ER? She’s going to need a doctor… I know, man. I know. Just… Layla can’t fucking get out of bed! You don’t let her… Shit! Okay. Okay. I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.” He didn’t say another word as he drove through the dark night.
Dad seemed scared to touch me too much. Afraid to hurt me. He just kept me on his lap, kissing the top of my head every few minutes, letting me cry it all out. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to cry this all out. My body would probably shrivel up from lack of water before I stopped crying.
That morning I had been so happy. Layla and my brothers were doing okay. I was actually going to get to see and hold the babies before I got to hang out with my best friend that night. Now… I didn’t feel happy. I didn’t feel much of anything except this need to hold onto my dad. I was still scared, even if he was the one who made me feel safe. I was still sick to my stomach, the memory of Vince’s smell alone making me gag. I wanted this to just be a dream, to wake up any minute with just a fading memory of this horrible night. But the pain in my face told me that it wasn’t.
Nik had to pull over twice so I could be sick. He just stopped in the middle of the street and Dad helped me out so I could throw up. People honked and cursed at us, but I barely heard. Vomiting only made my pain twice as bad. By the time we got to the hospital, I was dizzy and still nauseated.
Shane was standing by the entrance to the hospital with two hulking-looking men in suits. From the corner of my good eye I could see vans and cameras flashing across the parking lot. The press, again. I hated the press. All they did was take pictures of me and my family and all we wanted was peace. Before the door opened, Dad pulled a blanket out and covered me from head to toe. He didn’t want the photographers to get a picture of me like this, and really neither did I.
I felt Dad get out of the Tahoe with me still tucked close to his body, then he was walking so fast he was practically running. I heard Shane whispering something, my dad curse, and then there was a whole group of voices I didn’t recognize. Someone told Dad to put me down so they could examine me. He barked at them to get out of his way.
“Move or I will move you,” he told the woman who had told him to put me down.
“Sir, we must tend to the child,” a male voice spoke up and I struggled to uncover my head so I could see who was speaking.
I wiggled, needing down. “Daddy, I have to use the bathroom.”
I was instantly placed on my feet and the blanket was pulled off of me, a chorus of gasps greeting me as they saw my face for the first time. “Are you going to be sick again?”
I just shook my head and was relieved to find a sign for a bathroom just down the corridor from where we were standing. I had to pee so badly, it was a wonder I hadn’t already gone in my tights. I locked the door behind me and ran to the toilet, already pulling my old dress up, not caring if I tore it or not. It had been stupid to go as a zombie version of Jane Austen anyway.
When I was done, an entire minute later, I flushed and moved to the sink to wash my hands. That was when I finally got a look at my face. I froze at the sight staring back at me. I had cried off most of the green and black makeup that I had used for my costume but I still looked like something that would roam the streets on Halloween. My left eye was a rainbow of colors: black, blue, purple and all kinds of shades in between. It was swollen shut, making my face look almost deformed. My top and bottom lips were split, and even though it looked like it had started to scab it was still bleeding just a little. There was a bruise in the shape of a hand print on both cheeks. When I touched my fingertips to them, I winced as it caused the throbbing to start all over again.
“Lucy?” I heard my dad’s voice on the other side of the door. “You okay?”
“Be right there,” I called back before washing my hands and grabbing a few paper towels to dry them.