Safe With Me Part 18

Her daughter ducks her head a bit and smiles. "Thanks." She leans over and gives Olivia a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be home by midnight," she says.

"Eleven," Olivia counters, and Maddie lets loose a heavy, irritated groan.

"Eleven," Noah repeats. "We'll be here."

"Thank you, Noah," Olivia says. She waves as they climb into his car and drive away, then she shuts the front door.

For a moment, Olivia stands in the quiet of the house, listening to her breath move in and out of her lungs. She knows Maddie is disappointed with her, but she can't help but feel that James really has turned some kind of corner. He hasn't raised his voice or touched her in any way other than with gentleness and affection for the past few weeks. Though he still works seven days a week, he has made an effort to come home earlier and to take Olivia out for dinner or just for a stroll together around their neighborhood. She knows he's had months like this before and then something always set him off, but she's hopeful that this time, now that Maddie is doing well and they're back to being a normal family, things have truly changed.

When James arrives home around nine o'clock, which is later than she thought he'd be, Olivia is in the kitchen putting the final touches on his favorite dish-Hungarian paprikash with homemade noodles. Olivia had worked hard to master making it exactly the way he liked it, with plenty of smoked paprika and cayenne pepper to up the spice.

"Hi, honey," she says as he makes his way from the front door to the kitchen. "Did you get hung up at work?"

"Something like that." He takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie, hanging them carefully on the back of one of the breakfast bar stools. He stares at her as though he's never seen her before.

"Dinner's ready," she says brightly, determined to snap him out of whatever foul mood he might be in. "Do you want me to pour us some wine?"

"Where's Maddie?" he asks. His voice is gruff, and a shadow falls over his eyes.

"At her friend's Halloween party . . . remember?" Every siren in Olivia's body begins to wail. "She'll be home around eleven."

James strides up behind her and puts his hands on her hips, kissing the back of her neck. "You sure she's not going to the mall?"

Olivia freezes. "What?" she says.

James moves his hands up and squeezes her waist. "Oh, right. She can't go there. Because, even though my wife didn't tell me, our daughter was arrested for shoplifting." He digs his fingers into her flesh until it starts to hurt. Suddenly sick with panic, she tries not to cry out. How did he find out? Oh G.o.d, what else does he know?

"I didn't want to bother you with it," she says, hearing the desperation in her voice. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. Maddie didn't actually steal anything, though. I promise you she didn't. The friends she was with stuck a pair of earrings in her pocket and then they left her behind to get caught." Her words come quickly, tripping over each other as they leave her mouth.

"You're a liar," James snaps. "And so is Maddie. A thieving liar." Olivia cringes and tries to turn around, but James digs his fingers into her even deeper. She can't move. "Imagine my surprise this afternoon," he says, as though reciting a story to a child, "when my good friend Jacob from the prosecutor's office meets me for lunch and tells me he ran across my daughter's name in the system. Imagine how stupid I felt when I didn't know what the f.u.c.k he was talking about." He kisses the side of Olivia's neck again, and a terrified shiver runs through her. The calmness in his tone frightens her-the eerily gentle precursor to disaster. She has to get out of this house. She has to leave, now. No suitcase, no plan, no lawyer in place. She just needs to run.

"And so," James continues, "he kindly explained to me that my wife had paid my daughter's fines in cash-from what account I don't know, because apparently she keeps those secret from me, too."

Oh G.o.d. I have to get out. What the h.e.l.l was I thinking, that he had changed? A man like him isn't capable of change. Olivia glances at the back door, wondering if she can manage to wrench away from his grasp and make it out before he can stop her. She realizes she's still holding a paring knife-its metal handle has gone slippery in her sweaty grasp. If she has to, could she cut him? But before she can act on this thought, James lets go of her waist and slides his hand over the one of hers that holds the knife.

"Here, let me take that," he says. "I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

The muscles in her chest clench around her heart as she squeezes her eyes shut and lets him take the knife. "Please," she whispers. Blood rushes past her ears, and her entire body vibrates. "Please, I'm sorry."

James sets the knife out of her reach and slowly rotates her around to face him. She keeps her eyes closed, but a tear slips out as he cups her face in his hands. "No," he says simply, and with his next breath, he hauls back his hand and slaps her.

The impact jars her, but still, Olivia tries to get away. He wraps a long arm around her waist and jerks her back to him. "What else are you hiding from me?" he demands, delivering a swift kick to her shin. Olivia cries out with the impact.

"Nothing, James!" she sobs. "I swear, nothing else. Oh G.o.d, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Her breaths start to come in shuddering waves, their sharp edges tearing her insides apart. James. .h.i.ts her again, this time a punch to her stomach, and she bends over, gagging violently.

"How can I believe a word you say?" he bellows, grabbing her by the back of the hair and dragging her through the dining room and toward the living room. She trips on her own feet, trying to keep up with his pace. "How am I supposed to trust my own wife when she is clearly a lying b.i.t.c.h?" He yanks her hair with such force she's sure her scalp is bleeding, then throws her to the couch, where she curls up in a fetal position, arms around her face, trying to protect herself.

There's nothing she can do at this point, she knows. He's gone over the edge, lost it completely, and so she does what she can to float above what he's doing to her-the way he rips her arms from her face and punches her in the jaw with a closed fist. She tries not the feel the warm blood that runs down her cheek or the bright explosion of fireworks inside her eye when his fist lands there. She knows it's happening to her . . . she knows he is kicking her in the ribs, that he shoves her so hard against the entertainment center she feels the bone in her forearm snap, but the only way she can get through it is to let her spirit leave her body-to try to make herself believe this horror is happening to someone else.

At one point, after he has pummeled her too many times to count, she pa.s.ses out. When she wakes up, she is unsure just how much time has gone by. Lying on her side on the floor, she is barely able to open one eye-the other is swollen shut. Her entire body is in agony. She sees James sitting on the couch, watching her struggle. His hair is disheveled, and there are small sprays of bright red blood across his white shirt. He sips at a gla.s.s of Scotch, the ice cubes clicking as he takes a final swallow.

"I've done everything for you," he says, still so calm it makes Olivia fear he might have truly lost his mind. "And I ask so little. Loyalty. Honesty. Affection. Is that too much to ask, Olivia? Tell me. Because if it is, I don't know what to do."

Olivia tries to open her mouth, but her jaw screams in pain when she attempts to move it. She closes her one eye against the nauseating wave that rolls through her. Her arm and ribs throb; her face feels as though her muscles are no longer attached to bone. She's certain he's going to kill her. She thinks about Maddie, her sweet daughter whom she was too weak to save, and all Olivia wants is another chance. She'd do the right thing this time-she'd walk out the door with Maddie wearing only the clothes on their backs. Nothing else matters, not money, not a divorce-nothing but keeping her daughter safe from this man.

"What?" James asks, sneering at her. "No answer for me? Nothing to say for yourself? Come on, Olivia. You've always known how to use your mouth."

She opens her eye then, staring at him with more hatred than she's ever felt in her life. She doesn't know how her broken mouth is able to get these next two words out, but it doesn't matter because she's finally found the strength to say them. "f.u.c.k. You."

"f.u.c.k me?" James yells. He slams his gla.s.s to the marble floor, and it instantly shatters. He lifts himself from the couch and storms over to her. He shoves her, rolling her onto her back. The pain is like a thousand knives stabbing at her flesh, and she struggles to breathe as he straddles her at the waist.

This is the end, she thinks. The last thing she remembers is the look on his face as he wraps his fingers around her neck. And then the world falls black.

Maddie

When Noah pulls up to Jen's house, the party is already in full swing. There are at least ten cars parked in the circular driveway, and their entire yard is decorated like a cemetery, with rows of headstones scattered across the lawn and plastic skeleton arms looking like they're trying to claw their way out of the ground. As we pa.s.s by a huge oak tree, a screeching bat whips down next to my head. "Holy h.e.l.l!" I exclaim, ducking and clutching Noah's long arm.

He laughs and puts his arm around me. "Did the big bad fake bat scare you?"

"Not funny," I say, breathing a little hard but also relieved to realize the animal isn't real. I am jumpy, considering this is the first real party I've attended in eight years. I didn't want to tell my mom I'm nervous about it going well, because she's already wound tightly enough. I don't want to give her anything more to worry about.

As Noah and I walk up the steps, he keeps his arm hung loosely around my waist. I like the feel of him so close to me-it makes my heart beat fast and my whole body gets warm. I wonder if this is what it feels like to fall in love.

Jen answers the front door, fully decked out as a ghoulish zombie. Her blue-streaked hair is messy with fake blood, her skin is powdered a sickening shade of green, and she wears glowing white contacts that make her look like an actual member of the undead. "Hey, peeps!" she says, welcoming us inside. Her house is not as big as mine, but it's just as nice, filled with tasteful artwork and fancy furniture. "The party's downstairs in the rec room. Food, drink, video games. We're having an Xbox Zombie tournament-winner gets a hundred bucks!"

"Awesome," Noah says, and we follow her down a long hallway to a doorway leading downstairs to a huge room. There is a pool table, a Foosball table, a dartboard, and an enormous L-shaped couch sitting in front of what has to be a sixty-inch plasma television.

"Where are your parents?" I ask over the loud thump of music.

"Hiding in their bedroom upstairs," Jen says, laughing. "They'll check on us in a while, just to make sure we're not shooting up or having an orgy or something." I smile, and she gives me a quick, hard hug. "I'm so happy you came!"

I almost tear up when she says this, so unaccustomed to having a friend. Noah sees this and covers for me. "Where's the food, dude? I'm starved."

Jen motions over to the huge table by what is likely a second, smaller kitchen in the house. "My mom ordered some chicken pad Thai for you, Maddie. I told her about your gluten thing. Sodas are in the fridge."

We thank her, and then she runs back to join the group playing Zombie. Noah leads me over to fill our plates. "Sorry I'm such a wuss," I say under my breath.

"It's actually pretty cute," Noah says, piling four pieces of pizza onto his plate. He catches me staring at him, a little slack-jawed. "What?"

"Are you going to eat all that?"

"Yeah." He grabs a soda and balances his plate on top of it. "I'm a growing boy." He flashes me a grin, and we go join our friends playing the game.

Over the next couple of hours, I feel the most normal I think I ever have in my whole life. I laugh and eat and play a video game with friends; my boyfriend holds my hand when it's not our turn, and it suddenly hits me that if my mom divorces my dad, it's possible I won't get to keep any of this. I might have to move away and change my name, and the thought of that, the thought of losing all of these cool people, makes me think maybe my mom is right-we should stay where we are. It's only two years until graduation. And really, if he's not hurting her anymore, then why should we have to go?

Noah nudges me and snaps me out of my thoughts. "You okay? You're like, completely distracted."

I smile at him. "Yeah, fine. Just thinking about what a good time I'm having tonight."

"Me, too." He pauses, then tilts his head down the hallway, toward the bathroom and Jen's bedroom. "Want to take a break?"

I swallow hard and nod, letting him lead me to Jen's room. No one seems to notice us leave-they're too caught up in the game. He locks the door behind him, and I turn on the small lamp next to Jen's bed. Her room is done up in crazy punk rock decor, mostly black and white with odd splashes of neon. "She really likes punk, huh?" I say, nervously pulling the feather boa I'm wearing off and dropping it to the floor.

"I guess," Noah says, taking a step toward me, looking a little nervous, too, which sort of makes me feel better. His Neo sungla.s.ses are on top of his head, keeping his hair out of his face. He takes my hand and we sit down on the edge of her bed. We stare at each other a second before he leans in to kiss me, putting his arms around me and pulling me close. When he opens his mouth and slips just the tip of his tongue against my lips, I open my mouth, too, a little weirded out by the feel of his tongue on mine. He tastes like Hot Tamales, which he'd been munching on after his pizza.

He runs his hands over my back, then moves them, tentatively, around to my waist and then my chest. I suck in a quick, sharp breath when he touches my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Sorry," he says, s.n.a.t.c.hing his hands back to his own lap. "I didn't mean to-"

Breathing a little hard, I smile. "No, it's okay. I just . . . well, it surprised me. But it felt good." I take his hands and put them back on the sides of my waist. Then, keeping my eyes linked with his, I begin to undo the top b.u.t.tons on my witch's dress. He quickly glances down at what I'm doing, but then looks back up to me.

"Are you sure?" he whispers, blinking hard and fast.

"I want to show you," I say, trying to stop my hands and voice from trembling. When the b.u.t.tons are undone to my waist, I carefully pull the top of the dress down off my shoulders, taking in a deep breath and holding it as my upper body is totally exposed to him. I close my eyes and wait, feeling his gaze move over my skin first, and then . . . his hands, his fingers running over the raised red ridges of my scar. Down the center of my torso and across my waist. His touch is so tender, so careful, it makes me want to cry.

"You're beautiful," he says, leaning in to kiss me again. And right then, just for that moment, I believe him.

On the drive home a little while later, I keep looking over at Noah, wondering if he's thinking about that moment in Jen's bedroom as much as I am. We only kissed a bit more after I showed him my scar, then I b.u.t.toned up my dress and we rejoined the party. I didn't really want to stop-I wanted to do more, to see and touch his skin, too-but I also don't want to lose my virginity at a random party in someone else's bas.e.m.e.nt. It seems like it should be more special than that.

"You're okay, right?" I ask Noah after I tell him the gate code to put in and he drives up to my house. "That we stopped?" I am a little nervous that he won't like me anymore, since my general understanding of boys is that the only thing they want more of than pizza is s.e.x.

"Yeah," he says, shooting me a sideways glance as he puts the car in park. "It wasn't easy though, 'cause you're smokin' hot." I smile and give him a playful punch on the arm. "Ow!" he says, pretending to be hurt. "Violent, too, apparently."

I look at the clock on the dashboard. "Ten fifty-eight. Way to make my mom happy."

"Moms love me," he says smugly.

"Because you're a brownnoser," I say, teasing him.

"Whatever it takes to spend more time with you," he says, and I roll my eyes.

"Oh my G.o.d," I groan. "Total brownnoser."

We both laugh, and he walks around to open my door for me, holding out a hand to help me out of the car. He doesn't let my hand go until we're standing in front of the door, face-to-face. "I had a really great time," I say, but before he can respond, we both hear what sounds like the shattering of gla.s.s.

"What the h.e.l.l?" he says, but I am already digging through my pocket for my key, my heart working like a jackhammer in my chest.

"My dad" is the only thing I say, and hope he understands. I finally manage to find the key and fling the door open. "Mom?" I call out. "Dad? Is everything okay?" I wait a moment, hearing only a quiet grunting sound coming from the living room. I race in that direction, trying not to slip on the floor in my witch boot heels, Noah following right behind me. Glancing wildly around the room, I don't see anything except the back of my dad's head, level with the bottom edge of the bookcase. It looks like he's on his knees. "Dad!" I yell, but he doesn't respond.

I run over, and it's then that I see her-my mother lying beneath him, his hands around her neck. "Get off her!" I scream so loudly it burns the muscles in my throat. I see her b.l.o.o.d.y face, her arm twisted out from her body at a strange angle. Her eyes are swollen, bruised, and closed. I can't tell if she's alive or dead.

"Dad!" I scream again, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to pull him back. My hands just slip right off him.

"Maddie, don't!" Noah says, trying to grab me, too.

"Call 911!" I shriek. "Now!" Noah fumbles to get his phone out of his back pocket just as I grab for my father's arm again, trying to make him let go of Mom. There is blood bubbling out of the corner of her mouth-that means she's still breathing, right?-and I have to fight back the vomit in my own. My dad continues to grunt, squeezing her neck, until I finally haul back and start pummeling his head and face with my fists, trying to beat him off her.

The punch comes out of nowhere, smacking me hard across the face. I fly backward, seeing stars, and land with a hard thump against the edge of the coffee table. "Maddie!" Noah screams. "Please, hurry. He's going to kill them!"

The police, I think, woozy from the impact to my cheek. He's talking to the police.

"You little liar," my father says, spitting out the words. Before I know what's happening he has rolled me over and hit me again, this time on the other side of my face. There is a wash of coppery blood inside my mouth. I can't run-I can't even move. My eyes flood with tears, and all I can think of is that this man-a man who is supposed to love and protect me, who is supposed to take care of his wife and daughter-might just beat us to death.

I look over to Noah, who has dropped his phone and grabbed one of the pokers from the fireplace on the other side of the room. He charges at my father and slams the poker down hard across the top of his back. Dad falls over sideways, howling.

"Get up and I'll bash in your skull, you f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Noah says, breathing hard. Dad rolls over, and Noah raises the poker threateningly. "Try me," Noah says, and my father stops moving. He holds up his hands in a defensive posture-palms out, facing Noah.

"You're going to be sorry you did that," he growls, clearly still in pain from the strike across his back.

Noah looks at me, and I can tell he's scared, too. His eyes are wild and wide, and his entire body is shaking. But he's protecting me. He made my father stop. "Maddie?" he says. "Are you okay?" I nod my head yes, but doing so causes the room to spin. I vomit all over the floor.

"My mom," I say, creaking out the words.

"I know," Noah says. The whine of sirens approaches the house. "Can you get up? We need to open the gate. They can cut through it, but that will take too long."

"Don't you do it," my dad says, turning his head to look at me with his angry green eyes. "I'll kill you if you let them in, Maddie. I swear to G.o.d."

"Shut up!" I scream, the sound ricocheting inside my head like a bullet. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I try and pull myself up using the coffee table. On wobbly feet, I stagger to the front door and press the entry b.u.t.ton for the gate, and before I know it, officers are rushing inside my house with their guns drawn. Red and blue lights flash in bright circles in our yard, and the EMTs bring the gurney up the front stairs. "She's in the living room," I say, pointing in the right direction.

"You're bleeding," one of them says.

"Just go help my mom," I saying, sobbing. "He was trying to kill her. Please, please help her first." A second later Noah rushes up next to me, putting his long arms around me. He's still shaking. I am, too.

"They have him," he whispers in my ear. "It's okay, it's okay. They put him in handcuffs. They're going to take him away."

I nod, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. "Mama," I whimper, and with the medic's a.s.sistance, Noah leads me back toward the living room, just as three police officers are leading my father out. His wrists are cuffed in front of his waist, and he stares at me with tears in his eyes, where only a moment before there had been hatred.

"I didn't mean it, Maddie," he pleads. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this. You're my angel . . . you're Daddy's sweet little girl."

I stop, staring right back at him, feeling the strength of Noah's arm around me. "No, I'm not," I say with a coldness I haven't felt toward him before. This man could be a stranger standing before me. This man is not my father. "You can go to h.e.l.l."

"Maddie!" he yells as the policemen drag him out of the house. I can still hear his m.u.f.fled cries from the back of the police car as the medic sits me down on the couch and examines me. Two other medics work on my mother, sliding her carefully onto a backboard, stabilizing her head between two bright yellow pieces of padding. She hasn't woken up.

"Is she okay?" I ask, tearfully. "Is she alive?"

One of the medics, a thickly built, dark-haired woman with kind blue eyes, nods. "She's critical, though, and we need to get her to the hospital. You'll follow in a different ambulance, okay? We'll make sure the nurses keep you posted. They'll need to run some more tests at the ER, but I think you probably just have a concussion." She pauses. "Is there anyone you can call? Another family member to come wait with you?"

"I need to call my parents," Noah says, as though just realizing this. "They'll be wondering where I am." He squeezes my hand and steps over to the other side of the room with his cell phone. He looks stunned, like he can't believe what he's just done. I can't believe how lucky I am he was with me tonight. If he hadn't been-if he hadn't thought to grab that poker-who knows what my father would have done?

"Maddie?" the medic prods me. "Someone to call? The police are going to want to take your statement. Since you're a minor, you'll need an adult with you."