Saving Amy (42 page)

“It’s true,” he breathed. “They brought your father in for questioning this morning.”

“Okay,” I said, unfathomably calm, without so much as a dip in my heart rate.

“You know, they’re going to need to talk to you,” he added, as if he was trying to provoke a reaction out of my expressionless face.

“Yes.” Richard’s crinkled eyes scrutinised my face and he led me over to the couch with an arm around my waist as if he was expecting me to collapse at any moment.

“What are you feeling?” he probed gently with a perplexed glint in his eyes. I shrugged at him.

“I don’t feel anything.” And it was the truth. I didn’t feel scared, angry,
nervous
… A little numb perhaps, but nothing overwhelming. In fact I almost felt impatient. Part of me wished my dad would burst through the door right now and get whatever he had planned over with so I could move on…
again.

The day dragged in silence. Richard was too nervous to say anything and I was too numb. At 06:30 PM the intercom buzzed, flooding the dense air and startling us both.

This is it…

We both hesitated and my pulse thudded violently in my ears as my body and mind started to regain feeling – like they were preparing for battle. I’d never fought back before, but I’d replayed the possible scenario of my dad’s fist landing on Richard’s body over and over in my mind and each time it ended with me smashing something blunt and heavy across the twisted fucker’s skull.

I noticed Richard flex the muscles in his neck (his own pre-battle ritual I assumed) and then he ambled cautiously, slowly, out into the hall to pick up the receiver.

“You’re not welcome here,” was the first thing I heard him say.

He’s here…
My heart fluttered furiously like a butterfly with a broken wing and even though my dad was nineteen floors away, locked behind a set of heavy duty glass doors I could smell the putrid, musty stench of Old Spice.

“I have nothing to say to you…”

Wait, he wants Richard?
I wondered as I stared down at my knotted fingers. One-sided conversations were so frustrating.

“Have you any fucking idea what you’ve done, you stupid bitch?” I let out an involuntary gasp, relief and disappointment coursing through my veins when I realised he was talking to Joanna.

I wanted this over with.

I heard the receiver slam against the wall and Richard was back by my side soon after.

“Joanna?” I questioned – just to make sure. Richard nodded and we fell back into the well of desolate silence.

Richard sat back in the chair, his posture tense, rigid. I drew my legs up and lay down with my head on his lap, fiddling with a loose thread on his grey sweatpants. My heart started to slow and my body relaxed as he twiddled with strands of my hair between his fingers. Then, I bolted upright at the thunderous sound of someone pounding shit out of the door.

“Wait there,” Richard ordered sternly, signalling me to stay with the palm of his hand. I ignored him, refusing to let him take the beating that was meant for me.

I followed him to the door and it felt like we were walking in slow motion. When we reached the end of the hall I heard Richard deep breathing through pursed lips, hovering his hand above the latch but not feeling quite ready to touch it.

“Richard, please, I just want to talk.”

“For fuck’s sake,” we said in unison, hearing Joanna’s muffled voice on the other side of the door. She must have lurked downstairs until someone else buzzed the entrance.

“I’m not leaving until you speak to me,” she ranted when she got no response. Richard flashed me a look as if asking me for permission to open the door. I shrugged at him.

“Whatever.”
Just get rid of her.

I turned away as he unclasped the
latch,
sure she had nothing to say that I wanted to hear. I heard her talking as I turned into the living room but my brain shut off to the words. Heading into the kitchen I noticed the floor was still peppered with broken glass so I set about sweeping it up with a flowery pink dustpan from under the sink. I eyed it up curiously, wondering why I’d never seen it before. I decided Vivienne must’ve brought it round while I was…
away,
although I couldn’t think why.

Hovering my hand over the stainless steel trashcan (still amazed at how it opened all by itself) I angled my other hand ready to tip the fragments of glass inside. But then I heard a loud thud, followed by a
smash which
made me drop the dustpan, re-scattering the glass all over the floor.

“I said
you’ll
stay the fuck away from her!” I heard Richard yell, stopping my heart dead in my chest.

This really is it.

Knowing Richard was in danger I immediately darted towards the noise. My dad had Richard pinned against the wall by his throat. There were shards of shattered ceramic littering the hardwood floor and the half moon glass table had a hefty crack down its centre. Richard’s eyes were bulging and bloodshot as he struggled to breathe and the sleeves of my dad’s light blue shirt were rolled up, exposing his protuberant veins.

“Do something!” Joanna yelped, drawing my attention to her cowering in the corner, snivelling into the black sleeve of her jacket. My dad’s neck quickly snapped in my direction.

“There you are,” he breathed in that horrifyingly calm voice of his – the voice that let me know he was enjoying it.

He gave Richard’s neck one last thrust into the wall and then let go, turning his focus to me. My heart constricted as I watched Richard’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he slid down the white wall. I wanted to run to him, hold him, let him hold me, but I was trapped – my dad was just inches away and closing in on me. Instinctively I walked backwards but my
every step was matched by my father’s
until I was cornered in the living room. That familiar look of hatred tinged with pleasure shone bright in his blue eyes and I hunched my body, preparing myself.

“You are one stupid bitch. I always knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that grubby little mouth of yours shut. Have you any fucking idea of the shame you’ve brought upon me today?” I shook my head, recoiling back into the pathetic little coward who just wanted to say the right thing – to please him.

“You think your hot-shot doctor friend can save you? Is that it? Because I’m telling you now I could have him struck off before sunrise if I wanted to.” And I knew he was telling the truth. My dad had that kind of power over things. Like I’d said a thousand times to Richard – he
knew
people.

“Speak God dammit!” he roared, and then
I was blinded by a swift, harsh blow to the face
, knocking me back on my heels. I opened my eyes and the room spun around me.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered through quivering lips. “Please, Daddy, it hurts.” I don’t know what happened to me. I’d retreated back to the frightened seven-year-old little girl who felt bad for making her daddy angry as he yanked on her ponytail.

“Don’t call me that!”

My vision was blurred like heat rising from a fire but I saw the rippling outline of a fist speed towards me. I heard a crack as his knuckles rammed into his favourite spot - my ribs. My body doubled over as I cried out, falling to the floor.

Bells rang in my ears – after effects of the first punch – but I could hear faint wailing in the background. I could tell from the screeching nails-down-chalkboard tone that it was coming from Joanna. I tried to hear past her, desperately searching for a sound that belonged to Richard… I got nothing.

Please, God don’t let him be dead.

Needing to get to him, I clawed my fingers into the grooves of the wood floor and tried to hitch myself along like a slug. But then I let out an ear splitting scream, rolling onto my back in agony as a heavy black boot stomped onto the back of my hand.

“Please, sir. Please, no more,” I pleaded, for the first time ever
begging
him to stop, even though I knew it would make no difference. The lumbering boot lifted from my hand and through flickering eyes I caught it swinging backwards, preparing to kick.

“Ah!” I screamed as the boot collided with my stomach. I curled up into a tight ball, cradling my stomach as I watched the boot lift back again. I closed my eyes, anticipating the pain… but nothing happened.

A deafening crash startled my eyes wide open and I gasped at the sight of my dad lay crumpled over the coffee table.

“Don’t just stand there, call the fucking police!” Richard blasted, briefly turning his gaze to Joanna who was still trembling in the hall and then flipping it back to my dad. All my pain and fear melted away at the sound of his voice.
He’s alive…

I tried to move, desperate to get to Richard, to save him, but the mere movement it took to breathe sent crippling pain all the way through my body. So I lay, frozen and helpless as I witnessed my dad uncurl
himself
and rise to his feet. He pierced Richard with the most terrifying look I’d ever seen him possess.

He’s going to kill him.

My dad lunged for Richard, letting out a deep growl like some kind of jungle animal. Richard ducked, throwing my dad off balance and then when he reached for Richard’s throat, Richard grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back and forcing his body up against the wall by the fireplace.

“Amy?
Amy?
” Richard called out to me, tightening his grip around my dad’s arm. “Amy, talk to me. Are you okay?”

I nodded weakly, noticing the hurt and frustration clouding his face because he couldn’t rush to my side. He couldn’t risk letting go of the sadistic animal he had pinned to the wall, and I wouldn’t want him to. Suddenly, my dad let out a piercing shriek and fell limp in Richard’s constraints.

“What the fuck?” Richard breathed while struggling to support my father’s weight. I was convinced it was a hoax – a rouse to get Richard to release him. And so when he did, I squeezed my eyes closed and waited for the sound of the next punch.

It didn’t come.

I dared a peek and my dad was lay flat on his back with Richard kneeling over his lifeless body.

“Joanna!” Richard beckoned. “Get an ambulance with that police car. Tell them he’s gone into cardiac arrest!”

Holy shit, is he…
dying?
Has Richard… killed him?

Still paralysed with pain and fear, I had no option but to lie and watch as Richard pounded into my dad’s chest, fighting to save the life of a man who moments ago would have willingly taken his away.

“I’m so sorry. I just didn’t realise. I just didn’t think…” Joanna whined in the doorway.

“Quit the self pity and call a fucking ambulance!” Richard roared at her as he hammered away, his back jolting up and down to the rhythm.

I heard Joanna rambling on her cell phone in the background but I didn’t listen to what she was saying. Instead I kept my flickering eyes fixed on my father lay helpless and dying in front of me.

“Come on you son of a bitch!” Richard roared through clenched teeth as he pressed his ear against my dad’s mouth. Part of me wondered why he was bothering.

Just leave him to rot,
my subconscious seethed.

In that moment a heavy rasp evolved from my dad’s throat. It sounded like he was choking.

“He’s breathing,” Richard appeared to mutter to
himself
, wiping the sweat from his brow with his fingers. He looked… relieved.
Why?
“Where the hell is that ambulance?”

Just then, as if they heard him, an ambulance crew consisting of two female paramedics and a dark-haired man who I vaguely recognised with ‘DOCTOR’ printed on the back of his reflective jacket, burst into the room. Richard and the doctor shook hands briefly and I listened to them exchange incomprehensible jargon as Richard explained what’d happened.

I didn’t realise my eyes had closed until a warm pair of Armani Cologne scented hands cupped my face, startling them open.

“Richard,” I breathed. In my head I was smiling but I couldn’t be sure if it actually reached my face.

“You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“What about my dad?” I croaked, still winded from my blow to the stomach. I think I sounded more concerned than I intended to.

“He’s breathing… for now.”

For now?

I genuinely didn’t know which way I was hoping it would swing. Part of me wanted him dead. Gone. Out of my life for good. But a stronger part of me thought wishing for such a thing would make me no better than him.

“Can you stand?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

I didn’t admit that I hadn’t even thought to try – that selfishly, I’d just been lying there, too consumed by the pain to bother. Richard snaked an arm around my waist, hoisting me upwards. I cried out from the shooting pain reverberating through my insides. It stole my breath away and my body buckled – straight into Richard’s arms. Once standing, I felt better – physically at least. The pain was… bearable.

Richard guided me to the corner couch and settled me down while he examined my swollen purple hand. I tried to focus on him but my eyes kept wandering back to where I didn’t want them to be. I watched as the familiar doctor and paramedics attached various tubes and wires to my dad’s body and then slid him onto a long white board.