Chapter 4 #2
I gather my courage and curiosity and swing the door open. There’s a man standing there, his back to me, looking down the driveway to where there is a blue Toyota parked just outside the chained and padlocked metal farm entry gate.
It’s one of those electric cars that Daddy doesn’t trust, because he doesn’t trust anything he can’t fix himself.
The man doesn’t move.
He’s not as tall as Daddy Elijah—not many people are. And not as muscular either. But he’s still big.
“Hello,” I force out, and he jumps a little, spinning to look down at me with a yellow-toothed smile and a toothpick in the corner of his mouth.
“Hello, miss.” His eyes trace me up and down.
My skin tightens, and I gather my arms around my waist, taking a quick look to be sure my robe is tight over my chest, which always seems to be a problem since puberty for me.
“Is this a good time?” His eyes wander over my head, taking in the grand entry of the farmhouse behind me, then that smile again, and his eyes lock on my chest. “Bath time?”
I shake my head, silently praying for Elijah to return from wherever he might be on the two hundred acres of our property. “No.” I swallow, curling my toes into the scratchy wool rug under my feet. “Can I help you?”
“Well, the question is, can I help you? You see, we’re in the area, and with all the recent storm damage, a lot of the roofs need work. Even if you can’t see it, it’s there, and that’s where we come in—”
“We?” I ask, craning my neck around him to look down the drive to his car.
He laughs. “Oh, no, it’s just me here today.
But the company I work for…” He reaches into the front pocket of his wrinkled beige pants and brings out a small card, poking it my way.
I barely get it in my hand before he continues, “See, we can inspect your roof and tell you if there’s any damage.
Deal with your insurance company, make sure they pay for everything. Do you… Do you live here alone?”
I shake my head as he keeps his smile in place and heat gathers in my chest. My skin prickles.
“How about I come in? We can go over all the details.” He’s already stepping inside, and I do my best to channel my inner She-Ra, but I’m frozen.
Elijah is always between me and anyone else. Even Mrs. Tittle at the ice cream shop. He always orders for me and pays, and I rarely talk to any other humans. Now there’s this one, stepping into the house, his hand finding my shoulder, turning me with him.
“Mom? Dad?” He calls out, then kicks the door closed behind him. “They not home then?” Something flickers in his milky brown eyes, the pupils getting big, and I catch the scent of sour breath and cigarettes as he pulls me next to me, fingers digging into my bicep.
“No, my…” My what?
What is Elijah? My stepbrother, certainly. My guardian? I guess. But it’s not enough.
Where is he?
Where is Daddy? That’s what he is. I try to tell the man, who is silent now, his jaw set, dragging me toward the living room where the TV is paused, and my watermelon bowl is nearly empty.
“Elijah—” I manage in a whisper as fear clamps around my throat.
Something bad is about to happen, I know it. My gut curdles and cramps. I need to push and fight, but I don’t know how.
She-Ra…help me—
The man tugs me against him, flattening me against the wall inside the entry to the living room, lowering his mouth to mine as I squeeze my eyes shut and thrash against him.
Bile surges up the back of my throat as I realize what’s happening. His lips are touching mine. Oh God, Elijah, Daddy, come now, please.
Thick, vile breath expels against my mouth. “I bet you taste just like cherry pie—"
Then there’s the distinctive clunk of a shotgun being cocked from behind me.
“Get your fucking hand off my daughter.” Elijah’s voice is low and growly, meaner than I’ve ever heard it before, and my insides do this twisty thing as my knees weaken.
I jerk my arm away, fear draining away as my courage makes itself known, because my protector is here, and I can do anything with him behind me.
The man stops, suddenly forgetting about me, and focuses his dark eyes and sinister smile on Elijah.
“Now, sir, there’s no need—”
“Sis, get upstairs. Now.” Elijah’s eyes meet mine, and a little mewl of need leaks out of my mouth before I can stop it. I shove the man away and slide out from beneath him, but his hand grabs my wrist before I can flee.
“Sis?” he says with a chuckle. “Thought you said daughter before?”
“She’s both. And you just made your last mistake.”
Before I know what’s happening, the shotgun is twisting in Elijah’s meaty hands, and the butt slams into the man’s face. I hear a crunch and a squeal of surprised pain mixed with my own surprised yelp as he releases my wrist and doubles over, hands cupping his nose.
Elijah calmly looks over at me. “Now, Daisy May. I won’t ask again.”
I nod quickly, turning and fleeing up the stairs to my room. I run the whole way, the combination of sudden exertion and adrenaline leaving me breathless as I slam the door behind me and lean back against it. When I wipe my hand over my cheek, it comes away wet.
“Oh, God,” I breathe out as I slide down the door until I’m sitting on my heels.
I’m safe now, I tell myself. Daddy will make sure that man never comes back again.
The sound of the shotgun blast makes my breath catch, and a little squeal comes out of my mouth. My heart is thundering in the silence that follows, before I hear the front door open, then close, and I dare to cross the room to the window and look out.
Daddy Elijah is on his own.
I watch him walk down the lane, unlock the front gate, and stride through, the shotgun slung over his arm. The headlights on the Toyota flash, then he climbs in, drops the shotgun on the seat beside him, and the car starts up the driveway.
The tears are dry now, but I drop down below the line of the window, where Daddy won’t see me, and lean back against the wall as I hear the car crunch up the dirt and gravel drive, pass by beneath my window, and head around the side of the house.
I hear the back door open, followed by loud banging noises from downstairs.
It seems to go on forever. Then the back door slams shut again, and I finally find my courage, running from my bedroom to the bathroom, peering out through the tiny side window that looks out on the back of the property, just as the blue Toyota disappears inside the old cow shed that isn’t used anymore.
A moment later, Elijah comes out of the doors, slides them closed, and puts a big lock on the handles before he starts toward the house.
I run downstairs and into the living room, half expecting the creepy man to be unconscious on the floor. But there’s nothing. The rug that’s usually by the door has disappeared, and there’s a chemical smell in the air. Otherwise, no hint that he was ever here.
There’s just enough time to turn and run to the kitchen before Elijah gets back inside.
He glares when he sees me as he comes through the back door. “Told you to stay upstairs.”
“Where’s the man?” I ask as he crosses to the sink, tracking mud across the kitchen floor.
“I told him to leave, and he’s gone. He won’t be coming back.”
“But—” I fall silent as he turns to glare at me, and I see splashes of red on the white porcelain where he’s washing his hands, flecks of it around his fingernails.
Is now the right moment to mention my note? Should I tell him it was just a joke? I don’t know if he’s mad with me because of that, or because I didn’t stay upstairs when he told me to.
“I made you a sandwich,” I say instead. “Sliced roast beef on homemade sourdough. Your favorite.”
He finishes washing his hands, then grabs the sandwich off the counter. “Thanks. I’ll eat it while I work. Get these floors cleaned. And don’t fucking answer the door to anyone, you hear me?”
And with that, I watch him stalk out through the back door as if nothing unusual happened.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, and try to breathe through the throbbing between my legs.