Chapter 36 #2
“No, Dars” Jesus, if the police get involved, there is no telling what Floyd will say or do.
For a moment, I have this fleeting feeling of relief at the thought – of Darcey calling 999.
Of them coming here and taking control. Of the truth coming out and me walking away from Floyd once and for all.
I’m hit with a wash of guilt when that thought settles. That’s what I want.
“Enough!” My father’s voice booms through the room. Louder and stronger than I’ve ever heard it. Everyone stills. Floyd breathing heavily, his hair askew, blood on his shirt. Darcey with her phone in her hand. Oliver in front of me, reaching a hand back to twine our fingers together.
“Darius, are you okay?” My dad asks. Dropping Ollie’s hand, I edge around him and come to stand in front of the man who raised me.
“I’m okay.” They all know it’s a lie. I’m wobbling on my feet, and I can’t straighten up because of the pinching in my side. Tears burn at my eyes as I repeat that I’m okay while shaking my head to contradict myself.
“Oliver told me what Floyd did to you,” my dad says and I shoot a glare at Oliver.
“You had no right to do that, Ollie. I trusted you.” He dips his head, looking at his hands that he’s twining together in front of him.
“I know,” Oliver mumbles, but then he’s looking at me, his eyes dark with conviction. “Be mad at me if you need to be, but I’m not sorry.”
“Son,” my dad starts, stepping closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. The comfort of his firm, familiar grip on me has tears escaping down my cheeks.
Shaking my head, I stop him before he can say anything.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I tried. I really did.” I choke back a sob as I continue.
“I wanted to make it work, to help you. But I can’t do it, Dad.
I didn’t think it would be like this when I agreed to the marriage.
I’m scared of what he could do to me.” With the back of my uninjured hand, I bat away the tears blurring my vision.
“I’m so sorry. I have to put myself first.”
I look at Oliver – his eyes are wet, and there’s a sad smile tugging at his lips.
He dips his head in quiet support and I add the next words because I need him to hear them.
Need him to know that even if I’m really fucking annoyed with him, he means the world to me.
“I also don’t want to spend another day faking a marriage to another man when I’m in love with someone else.
Someone who deserves to be loved with all of me. ”
“Darius.” There’s a dark warning in Floyd’s voice when he says my name. “Think carefully about what you’re about to do.”
“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Darcey barks. She crosses her arms and straightens her shoulders, aiming a ‘don’t mess with me’ glare at Floyd. He takes out his phone, a sure threat that he will ruin us if I don’t heed his warning.
My dad shuffles closer and with two fingers on my chin, he tips my head so we’re eye to eye.
“I should never have asked you to do this, son. It was selfish, and I acted out of greed…and fear. It seemed like such a simple solution – you’d marry him and I’d be okay.
I never saw it for what it truly was – my freedom for yours.
” Dad looks at Oliver. “But he’s right. It’s not worth it.
You deserve so much better, Darius. I promised to protect you the moment you were laid in my arms, and I let you down. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
It should feel like a weight lifted, but all I feel is heavy sadness. Sad that all of this ever happened. That my dad lied and conned people to better himself. Sad that Floyd found out and used it to his advantage. Sad that no one comes out unscathed.
“There was a time, son, when you were my entire world, and somewhere along the way I forgot that and I started caring too much about status and wealth. I wanted to give you the things I never had, but then greed consumed me and enough was never enough.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“It’s not an excuse, but it is the truth.
You should always have been my priority, Darius.
I’m sorry it took this,” He waves his hand around the room, “for me to remember that.”
I close my eyes, a memory of my dad and me playing football in a field when I was about seven flashes in the dark space behind my lids.
Things changed, so slowly neither of us noticed until we’d settled into the new version of us.
The version that replaced time together with allowances.
And bedtime stories with expensive gifts.
Opening my eyes, I meet his – full of love and a hint of regret – before he breaks our connection, turning to Darcey. “Call 999.” My father’s attention moves to Floyd, who is quietly seething, his phone clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white. “You will pay for hurting my son.”
Floyd glowers. “I will end you, Thorne-Sutton. You will lose everything. Mark my words!”
Dad looks at me. “Not everything. Not what matters.”
Oliver breathes heavily, leaning back against the wall, pain written on his face as he cradles his fist to his chest. I don’t cross the room to him.
Don’t turn to him for the comfort I know we both need.
Because I love him, but I’m angry. Maybe it’s irrational.
Maybe all the emotions running hot and wild inside me right now are making it hard for me to think clearly. Maybe, yet still I keep my distance.
My father takes his phone out of his pocket, then holds it to his ear. The air in the room is thick, tension like a choking fog that grips us all.
“Barrett, can you come down to the Clapham apartments?” Dad nods his head. “The one we put in my son’s name, yes. It’s urgent.” He’s quiet for a moment while his lawyer, Clive Barrett, talks on the other end of the line. “Great. See you soon.” Dad pockets his phone again, before he addresses Floyd.
“As soon as my lawyer gets here, I’ll be turning myself in.
Send those documents to whoever you had planned to if that’s what you want to do.
But know this –” Dad steps closer to Floyd and the larger man clenches his fist. “I’m taking you down with me.
Blackmail. Coercion. Assault. It’s over, Floyd. All of this.”
Floyd takes a step closer, his nose a breath away from my father’s before he suddenly darts left.
His hand is around my throat before anyone has time to react.
His fingers dig into the sides of my Adam’s apple and I gasp at the pressure, trying to push him off with my splint covered hand.
A potent mix of fear and pain drench me, draining the blood from my face.
“You ruined everything! And for what? Family? Love? Pathetic. I should have –”
All hell breaks loose before Floyd can get another word out.
My vision waves in and out, but then I can breathe again as Oliver and my dad rip him off me.
Fists fly, grunts bouncing off the walls, and then uniformed police are pulling Floyd and Oliver apart and a paramedic in a green uniform is kneeling at my side.
She tells me her name is Lucy, looking me over with sure, steady hands – she checks my airways and my pupils, then slowly slides the splint off my wrist. It’s swollen and a mottled tapestry of yellow and purple.
I can’t bend it – even the smallest movement sends a pain so sharp through me, my stomach rolls and I think I may be sick.
When Lucy is done, she says I need an x-ray on my hand and a more thorough examination.
I suggest I get a cab to A&E, but she insists I go with them in the ambulance.
She says something about shock, and someone else calls over her shoulder about pressing charges.
It’s all too much and I reach out my other hand to Darcey, who takes it in hers.
“Stay with me?”
“Of course.”
Darcey helps me up, and we make our way slowly down to the ambulance waiting on the curb outside. I don’t see Clive arrive, and I don’t know what happens to my dad or Floyd.
Or Oliver.