Chapter 37
Cracking one of my swollen eyes open, I groan, then cough after inhaling a mouthful of dirt and kitten fur.
It takes me a moment to register what’s going on, but the moment clarity hits, I jerk upright and grab my phone from my pocket.
Oh God, no!
No matter how awful my altercation was with Jaxon yesterday, not going home is a million times worse! I must have exhausted myself and passed out for hours.
Panic is real right now, so I hang my head between my knees to center myself. My mind spins as I attempt to come up with some excuse to explain my absence. I can probably count on the fact he more than likely drank himself into a coma, but dinner. Dinner!
Scrambling to my feet, I quickly apologize to the now meowing kittens as I smack the dirt from my clothes, but it’s no use. After laying in the dirt with sweaty clothes, it’s ingrained in the fibers at this point.
With gentle hands, I shoo the kittens away from the door and slip into the early morning light. The sun has barely broken into the sky, and I’m brought up short when I find myself face to face with Mason.
My heart gallops when I realize this conversation is going to happen a lot sooner than I’m prepared for.
“Look what the cat dragged in.” His tone is teasing as he eyes me up and down. Then, pressing a fast, needy kiss to my lips, he murmurs, “Good mornin’, girl. You’re here awfully early.”
I can hardly react before he’s pulling away, taking my hand, and dragging me back toward the barn. Digging my heels in, I know what he’s thinking, and I just can’t. Not right now. Not after yesterday. Not after everything I’ve embroiled myself in.
Mason needs to know everything.
“Mas—” I yank my hand harder to stop him. “Mason! I need to talk to you.”
Dropping my hand, he turns toward me with a raised brow. He’s in a special sort of mood today because his normally down-turned lips are tilted up in a playful smile. “You don’t wanna talk after we say a proper hello?” Holding up a couple of fingers, he waggles them at me. “Two weeks, girl. Two long weeks of dreamin’ about what’s between those legs of yours.”
“Mason,” I whisper. “It’s important.”
Spinning us around, he pins me to the wall of the barn and braces his hands on either side of my head. Hovering his lips over mine, he breathes out, “Bet I could convince ya, girl.”
“I’m pregnant.” It just bursts out of me, and I inhale sharply when he drops his arms, standing straight in shock. Needing to get the rest of it out, I just let all of it tumble out. “And I don’t know if it’s your baby, but honestly, it probably is. I had sex shortly before you and I did. Then, after you left, I was with someone else. That’s what I had texted about when I told you I needed to talk to you. But then this happened and I—”
I wish it was Mason interrupting me, but he seems incapable of voicing anything at the moment. His eyes are wide, and he looks a bit green, a sheen of sweat already beading on his forehead.
“Whore!”
A pained sound escapes through my closed mouth when I hear my father, but I can’t drag my eyes from Mason’s ashen face. I try to gain his attention. “Mason, please… Will you say something?”
“You’ve been fuckin’ the whole goddamn town, huh? No better than that slut of a mother you got! Sneakin’ around behind my back, workin’ for this piece of shit!”
My father is storming toward us, but I remain unmoved, pleading with Mason to say something, anything, but he is like a statue. Disappointment fills me and I can’t even bring myself to care when my father’s fingers dig into my upper arm, yanking me away from him.
I can’t drag my eyes from Mason as I’m pulled toward the trees, but he keeps his back to me, still frozen in the spot where I apparently delivered a blow he wasn’t prepared for.
Disappointment and guilt, more guilt, settle deep and I eventually lose all hope that someone will give me an ounce of compassion. My father continues to berate me, but I haven’t been listening until he spits out, “—fuckin’ knocked up, too? Jesus Christ! What the fuck did I do in my life to be forced into this sort of sufferin’?”
Throwing me forward, I land on my knees next to the back door of the house and peer up at it, praying he doesn’t force me to go inside.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ end you, you little slut! There ain’t no way I’m takin’ on another—”
My shoulders slump in defeat when I hear Griffin. Of all the people to hear right now, it has to be him.
“The hell is goin’ on here?” He sounds worried, but more confused than anything.
My father’s hand shoves me forward and I topple to my side.
“Jesus Christ, Clay! What the fuck are you doin’?” Griffin shouts, running over to my side in an attempt to help me up.
“This whore is fuckin’ pregnant with God knows whose baby! Been spreadin’ her legs all over fuckin’ town like a fuckin’ Mary Magdalene.”
I hear Griffin’s breath whoosh out in surprise, but he helps me get to my feet, then pushes me behind him. With his hands up, he wards off my father to try to calm him.
“Look man. I’m sure if you just take a minute to calm the fuck down, ya’ll can sit and have a conversation. No need to be insultin’ anyone.” He glances over his shoulder at me and asks, “You alright, darlin’?”
Hiccupping a sob, I shake my head roughly. “No!” Then, to my father, for the first time ever, I argue back. “I’m n-not a whore! Maybe I made some mistakes, but y-you have no right—”
Surging forward, he screams at me over Griffin’s shoulder, his face practically purple with how furious he is. “I got every fuckin’ right! Fuckin’ the goddamn neighbor? That piece of trash only stuck his dick in you to piss me off! How stupid can you be, girl?”
I wince when he calls me girl, hating that I’ve grown to like it when Mason uses the term. But he’s right. I’ve been so, so stupid. I want to ask Griffin what he’s thinking, but he’s currently shoving my father backwards, both of his hands slamming against his chest.
“Darlin’, run upstairs and get your shit. You’re not stayin’ here. Not while this ass is raging like a motherfuckin’ bull.” Another cry escapes, and he gives me a serious look that says he’s not messing around. I can’t tell if he’s angry with me, but he doesn’t seem thrilled to be pushed into the middle of a fight between my father and me. “Go!” he snaps, and I spin around and rush into the house.
The last thing I hear is him saying, “You keep your ass outside until I get her out of here. I’m gonna go move some shit around in my truck to make room. Don’t fuckin’ move, Clay, or I’ll hand you your ass.”
My father grumbles at him, but I sprint toward my room, slamming the door behind me. My eyes fly around my space as I question what I should grab. Yanking my dresser open, I just pick up everything I can and drop it in the center of my bed. My eyes fall on my book, and I know I have to take it with me.
Before I have a chance to round the foot of my bed, my door slams open, the hinge screaming loudly as it bounces off the wall, then my father’s boot kicks it shut.
Within a heartbeat, he’s got my hair in his fist, and slamming me face first into the wall. I drop to my knees, one arm cradling my stomach and a hand reaching up to stop the blood flowing from my nose.
Another second before his foot collides with the side of my thigh, and I fall to my side. Something rises up inside of me and I roll to my back and kick out my feet, connecting with the soft fat of his belly, finding joy in the oomph that expels from his parted lips.
I attempt to scramble away in the moment he’s rendered frozen, shocked I actually struck back before he’s falling on top of me, and I’m flattened to the ground.
Fists fly against my spine, and every hit is like a sledgehammer as he curses and screams, telling me how I’m born from the devil, and he should have killed me years ago.
Coughing, I spit out blood pooling in mouth. It’s only the tiny speck of a baby inside of me that keeps me fighting and clawing to get away, and I think I’ve actually succeeded when he’s gone a few moments later.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I watch as Griffin throws my father across the room, slamming a fist into his jaw. My father’s head flies sideways, and he falls back like a log, dropping to the floor. The whole house shakes from his weight and I’m frozen as I feel the vibrations roll through my hands holding me up.
“You piece of shit! Beatin’ up a little girl just ‘cuz of a stupid mistake?” he shouts, straddling my father’s body as he slams another fist into his face.
Those words knife their way through my head, and I choke on a cry.
I don’t wait around.
Leaving everything behind, I descend the stairs as rapidly as I can, taking my stupid mistake with me, and fly out the front door of the house. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I’m sure they’ll be tied up for a bit, so I run to the road, thankfully seeing a car cresting the hill to my left.
Waving it down, I whisper a silent prayer that they slow for me. Thankfully, it does. The driver is a middle-aged woman whose name I can’t remember, but I’ve seen her at church from time to time.
After wrenching her door open, I plead with her. “Will you please take me to Pastor Danielson’s house? I need to get to there now. Please!”
Nodding in shock, she waits until I get inside with mouth hanging open, then hits the gas as we race toward town.
Using the bottom of my shirt, I do my best to stem the flow of blood pouring from my nose and quickly take stock of my injuries. Both my driver and I are breathing rapidly from the intense situation, but she doesn’t ask any questions. The only thing she says is, “Here,” as she pushes a small towel into my hand.
I can’t even croak out a thank you, but I flick my eyes toward her so she can see how appreciative I am of her help.
The drive is bumpy, and every bounce sends a fresh wave of pain through my back. It’s only when I realize my stomach feels fine, untouched by the attack I just survived, that I blow out a slow gust of air in relief.
I wait patiently as we pull up to the Danielsons’ house and I’m prepared to sit on their porch if they’re away from home. Grabbing the handle, the woman stops me with her palm on my shoulder.
“I’m glad you waved me down, dear. Please, take care of yourself.”
“Th-Thank you,” I grit out, a fresh wave of tears already spilling onto my cheeks. With a nod, I climb from her car and knock on the door of Ruth and Josiah’s house.
Wiping away the wetness from my face, I wait until the door cracks open.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What the hell happened to you?”