Chapter 33 #3
Shame tickles my chest when I realize I’m wet. As if I want this to happen. As if I deserve it. I feel the scratch of the rough blanket against my skin and his fingers bruising me. I tense my muscles and bite back a sob.
I can’t let him do this to me again.
I won’t.
When his other hand crashes against my wrist, my mom’s delicate bracelet bites into my skin and the chain breaks. It slides off, and the world seems to disappear.
Waves crash against the beach, and I giggle as the icy ocean water tickles my toes. The next wave is stronger though, and it throws me off my feet. I land hard on my knees, salt water sharp on my tongue. When I look down, I see a cut on my leg, the blood mixing with the dark, grainy sand.
It hurts, and I turn and look to the shore, searching for her. I spot her almost immediately, standing from her beach towel and dusting off her backside. My lower lip trembles as I try to ignore the way the cut aches.
“Fiona! Baby, are you okay?” Her white sundress flutters around her ankles as she runs to my side, her auburn hair tangled and windswept.
She approaches and pulls me away from the water, crouching down to inspect the cut.
“I didn’t cry, Mom,” I tell her proudly, and she gives me a sad look.
She takes my hand without a word, and we walk back to her towel.
She rolls it up and leads me toward the little beach house we’ve rented for the week.
I watch in fascination as crimson blood continues to ooze from the cut and run in rivulets down my leg.
We climb the steps up to the porch, and Mom nods to one of the chairs. “Wait here, and I’ll get you a Band-Aid.”
I sit, my legs swinging back and forth. Our trip ends in a few days, and the thought makes me sad. This is the longest my mom’s ever gone without drinking. I may only be ten, but I started taking care of her after my dad left.
My mom returns with a little metal first-aid box, and I watch while she bandages me up. Her bracelet catches the sun, and the blue and white stones glitter with each turn of her wrist. I stare at it and smile.
My mom notices. “You like my bracelet?” she asks, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I nod. “Yes, it’s so pretty.”
She finishes with my leg and fingers the jewelry, sliding it around her dainty wrist until I see the wave charm nestled in the middle of the chain.
“I bought it while we were in town yesterday.” She looks up at the ocean and the large rocks looming like sleeping giants just off the shore. “I love this place so much, and someday we’ll buy a house here and live on the beach like mermaids.”
I laugh. “We can’t be mermaids. We’d have to stay in the ocean forever.”
The sad smile from before returns, and she takes a deep breath of the salty air. “Would that be so bad though? To just be free. Swim away without a care in the world.”
“I suppose.”
Her melancholy has always confused me. It’s like she doesn’t realize she already has the perfect life at her fingertips.
We have lots of money and a big house and a lot of food.
I even have my own treehouse in the backyard.
Yet, her lows are so low. And it’s not just the drinking.
Sometimes, she can’t get herself to leave the house for weeks.
Those are the times that scare me the most.
I take a deep breath. “Will you be happy if we come back here to live?”
Her green eyes meet mine, and they sparkle as she nods. “I think I would, yes.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
“I hope so,” she says. “Do you want to go back to the beach?”
“Yes.” I grab her hand, and we walk back into the sand.
She gives my fingers a squeeze. “I have a friend I want you to meet next week,” she says slowly as we walk. “I think he’s going to change our lives. I really like him.”
“Then I like him too.”
She laughs, the sound almost lost over the roar of the ocean. “You haven’t even met him.” I just shrug. If she’s happy, that’s what matters. It’s all I want.
“His name is Dennis.”
Dennis.
My muscles are screaming in pain as my eyes fly open.
I buck against the heavy weight covering my body.
My movement catches Dennis just before he can enter me, and his balance teeters.
I sense an opening, and I throw my free elbow back and hit him squarely in the neck.
He grunts, and suddenly I can move again except for my feet.
I kick violently, a feral scream ripping from my throat as I bite and scratch any bit of his skin I can reach. My foot slams into the old heater, and white-hot pain erupts as the coils burn my heel. It topples forward and lands face down on the blanket beneath us.
I manage to roll onto my back just as Dennis throws himself on top of me, his eyes black with rage. “Goddammit, Fiona!” Dennis barks, and I spit into his face and push at his chest as hard as I can. He tumbles off my body, and I roll away from him and scramble toward the pile of my clothes.
He grabs my foot, dragging me back, but I kick again, and he takes a heel to the eye.
The burning smell of cotton fills the room, and panic seizes my lungs when I realize that the blanket is on fire.
Orange flames spread quickly on the dry fabric, and it’s so close to my skin that I’m sure my leg hair singes away. I jump back.
Dennis isn’t so lucky. He’s still on the blanket, clutching his face and groaning, and so far, he hasn’t noticed the flames licking at his feet.
I grab a shirt and underwear, pulling them on as I run on unsteady feet.
The raw burn on my heel screams in pain every time I put weight on it, but I grit my teeth and limp toward the door.
I pull on the handle, yanking with all my strength while smoke floods the room. The door doesn’t move, and my eyes drop to the rusty keyhole.
He must’ve locked it.
Dennis screams, and I whirl around. He’s stark naked, except for his socks, and one of them is on fire. He’s dancing around, shaking his foot frantically.
My eyes fall to his suit, which he kicked out of the way in all chaos. The flames have spread, lighting up the loose hay and debris strewn about the old barn. I cover my mouth, taking shallow breaths so I don’t inhale too much smoke, and run to Dennis’s coat, rummaging through the pockets.
When my fingers close around the small metal key, a jolt of hope springs into my chest, and I dash back to the door and stick it into the keyhole.
But when I turn it, something snaps, and I stare in horror at the broken key in my hand.
I pull at the door, and pound on it with my fists, screaming in frustration.
The sound of metal clattering to the floor steals my attention, and I look back in time to see Dennis trapped between a row of flaming hay bales and the wall. Tools fall precariously around him as he backs into them in his panic to escape the growing inferno.
That’s when I notice the ax.
Running forward, I edge around the flames, which are now climbing into the rafters overhead. There’s a creaking sound and then a loud crack, and I fall to my knees, curling into a ball just asa large beam lands inches from my face and splintered wood showers over my half-naked body.
When I push myself up, I see the fire is creeping toward the tractor and the stack of gas cans next to it. I have no idea if there’s gas in them, but my brain goes to cinematic explosions, spurring me to act quickly.
I grab the ax, hop to my feet, and rush back to the door.
And I start swinging. And swinging. I grip the handle so tightly that bits of wood dig into my palms. Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes, as I puff and pant with every swing at the wood-paneled wall.
I have to pause when I choke on the smoke, coughing so hard I almost vomit.
Clutching my stomach, I drop to my knees, trying to get below the haze to catch my breath.
But the fire is sucking the oxygen from my lungs.
Fear grips me as I realize that I might die here.
Gathering my strength, I stand and deliver one last strong hack.
The wood splits, and cold wind gusts against my slick skin.
I take a deep breath of fresh air and swing again, and this time, the opening widens.
I drop the ax and push myself through, the jagged edges of the wood scratching and cutting my skin as I scramble to escape the inferno.
Finally, I slip free and fall into a heap into the gloriously cold snow. My brain is foggy, and my eyes are blurry, but I swear I hear shouts nearby. Someone’s screaming. Flashing lights bounce around, making my head throb.
I crawl as far away from the building as I can, pulling my body toward the tree line on shaky, ash-blackened hands.
The world is fuzzy, and it spins and sways.
The shouts are louder now.
Are they saying my name? Why does it sound like I’m underwater?
My vision starts to blacken at the edges, and I fold my arm and place my head on it, taking a moment to rest. Then, I lose consciousness.