Playing Patience (29 page)

I thought back to her shyness and the way she freaked out about being touched. I thought back to the guilt I saw on her face when I gave her an orgasm in my car that first time. Her constant need to rush home, the bruises, it all made sense to me now. Then something else hit me and I thought for sure I was going to be sick. Patience wasn’t a virgin. I’d been with a virgin before and she definitely hadn’t been one, yet before, she would barely let me touch her. There was no way in hell she’d had sex with another person unless it was forced her on. Her dad sexually molested her. It was all so clear to me now and I couldn’t even believe I hadn’t seen it before. Her father touched her inappropriately. That bastard touched my Patience.

He jerked her up and spun her around over the kitchen table. She kicked and fought back, but never made a sound. He started to pull down her shorts, and just like that I wanted to kill him. He had to die. He deserved to die.

“You got about two seconds to get your fucking hands off of her before I come over there and kill you.” My voice echoed in the kitchen.

Both of their heads snapped in my direction and he let her go instantly. There should’ve been relief in her eyes, but all I saw was her starting to panic even more.

“You sick son of a bitch.” I started across the kitchen.

Patience jumped in front of me before I could get to him and I stopped and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and she placed her hands on my cheeks.

“Everything’s fine, Zeke. Come on, let’s just go.” She talked to me like I was about to jump from a cliff.

“No! Everything’s not fucking fine. That bastard’s been molesting you, hasn’t he?”

I knew I was being loud and I didn’t give a shit.

She started shushing me and I looked down at her like she was crazy.

“Don’t tell me to be quiet.” I was getting even angrier that she was still afraid of him.

She never needed to be afraid again. I’d kill the son of a bitch if he even looked at her the wrong way.

“Don’t be scared of him, snowflake. If he even thinks about touching you, I’ll kill him.” I looked him dead in his eyes when I said it.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, young man.” He attempted to deny it. I got even louder and Patience shushed me again.

“Why are you telling me to be quiet? Who gives a shit who knows? He needs to go to jail, Patience. He belongs in jail.”

“Zeke, please stop. My mom will hear you.” Her eyes filled with tears.

And then another thing became clear to me. She was hiding it because of her mother. Her mom was dying and Patience, being the most selfless person I knew, would rather hold on to the dark secret than to let her mother die knowing what was happening to her.

“You need to leave,” her dad said sternly.

“No, what I need to do is come over there and beat you to death.” My chest pressed up against Patience’s tiny palms as I felt myself losing control.

“I have a gun in my desk drawer that says you need to leave,” he snapped with angry eyes.

Then I felt myself moving toward him. A threat was a threat and he’d just thrown one down on me. I stood toe to toe with him and I enjoyed the fear that crept into his eyes.

I felt Patience tugging at my arm.

“Please, Zeke, please just go,” she said over and over again.

I didn’t blink as I stared into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

I wasn’t. There was no way in hell I was leaving her in that house with that fucker. Especially considering I’d probably just made things worse for her.

“Fine.” She was panicking. “Please, just let’s go.”

And then I was backing away from him as she pressed against my chest with her hands. My eyes never left his face. I’d never wanted to rip the flesh from someone so badly in my life.

I didn’t breathe again until we were in my car. I turned to her and she stared back at me with wide eyes.

“You should’ve told me.” I wanted to cry.

The sadness I felt for her combined with the raw anger I felt toward her dad was overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I pulled her to me and held her in my arms as she started to cry.

“Don’t ever apologize to me for anything. If anything, I should apologize. Had I known I would’ve handled things differently.”

The front of my shirt was getting wet from her tears. I pushed her hair from her damp cheeks and kissed her forehead. I vowed in that moment to take care of her. There was no way in hell I was letting her go back to that house, not until that fucker was under the jailhouse or dead.

I pulled away and looked down at her. “Where’s your little sister?”

I hadn’t even thought about her little sister. She spilled her guts. Right there in the front yard of death and the devil. She told me about the years of being abused, about finding out the governor wasn’t her father, and about her fears for Sydney. She explained that she didn’t think he’d touch Sydney because she was really his. I didn’t buy it. He was obviously a sick man and sick men could give a shit less about who their victim was.

Still, she said she kept a close eye on her sister and only stayed away when her sister did. It was strange finding out these things about Patience, things that made who she was even more understandable. We’d both grown up in fucked-up environments and we’d both saved each other. We were meant to be together and I’d soothe her hurt the same way she’d soothed mine.

“I understand if you never want to touch me again,” she said through tears.

I looked down at her like she was crazy.

“That, you will never have to worry about,” her lips felt soft and moist against mine when I gently kissed her. “Let’s get you home.”

I pulled out of the driveway.

“Home?” she asked.

“Yes, home. No way am I letting you come back here. We’re going to go home, figure out what our next step should be, and then we’re calling the police.”

“I can’t, Zeke. It would kill my mother.”

“You can’t guarantee he’ll never touch your little sister, snowflake, and you can’t follow her around until she’s old enough to move out. You have a life to live too—one that I hope you’ll share with me. Do this for her? Please, do this for us.”

She looked down at her hands and nodded. I pulled her closer to my side as I drove back to the apartment.

Twenty-Four

Patience

I finally did it. I fought back. Mostly because I knew Zeke was waiting in the car for me, but also because I refused to let him touch me again. I refused to let him turn what I’d done with Zeke into something disgusting and perverted. If he touched me, it would take away all the magic from the night before. I was free. Zeke had released me and there was no way in hell I was letting this man put his hands on me.

I’d made it to my room and packed a duffle bag without seeing my dad. I visited with my mom and told her Zeke and I were together and in love. I did all that without seeing him. It wasn’t until I made my way to the front door that he blocked my path and pulled me into the kitchen.

He’d called me every name in the book. He pulled and tugged on my arms and came close to snapping my wrist, but still I fought back with every ounce of strength Zeke had given me. And when he turned me over the table and started to rip at my shorts, I knew I would continue to fight until I couldn’t anymore.

When Zeke’s voice stopped everything, I knew it was the end of pretending. There was no more hiding it. There was no more keeping it under wraps to protect my mom and sister. Zeke would never go for that. He’d want my dad either dead or in prison, and by the look in his eyes, I was sure he was seconds away from killing him.

It wasn’t until we were back at his apartment that I felt the pressure leave my chest. So much had happened in my life and I was nervous it was all about to be revealed for the world to know. I was going to go to the police and I was going to report my dad. I had to. Zeke was right. There was no way of being sure he’d never touch my sister and maybe it was selfish of me, but now that I was with Zeke, I wanted to live my life. I couldn’t do that if I was chained to that house like a mini guard dog for my sister.

The main thing was I wanted to be the one to tell my mother. It felt wrong for her to hear it from some impersonal police officer. I wanted her to know it wasn’t her fault. I wanted her to know that I should’ve said something. She was sick and I never expected her to save me since I never said anything. If my mother was going to die with my secret heavy on her chest, then I at least wanted to help soothe it as much as possible.

She, better than anyone, understood the importance of some secrets. She’d walked around my entire life knowing my father wasn’t my father, but that secret couldn’t cause bodily harm to another human being—mine could.

So after having a major heart to heart with Zeke and telling him things I never thought I’d say out loud, I lay in his arms with my eyes open until I knew he was asleep. I wanted to speak to my mother before I went to the police station the following day, and I knew there was no way in hell Zeke would let me go back to that place until my dad was firmly behind bars.

I crept out of bed and dressed as quietly as possible. I palmed his keys so they didn’t jingle and then I tiptoed through the apartment and out the door. I was scared his loud-ass car would wake everyone when I cranked it, but it was two in the morning and everyone’s windows were black.

The drive to my house was a long one. The entire time, knowing what I was on the way to do, my heart was in my throat. It was the middle of the morning so my dad would be asleep and I’d have to wake my mother, but this needed to be done.

I unlocked the front door and closed it softly behind me. The stairs creaked under my feet as I snuck up the stairs. The long hallway that cut across the house felt longer as I made my way to my mother’s bedroom door. I passed Sydney’s room and a strange noise brought me to a halt. I knew I needed to get in and get out, but I was positive I’d heard a noise come from Syd’s room.

I stepped up to her door and slowly pushed it open. The house shrank as I took in the scene in front of me. Dad was on top of Sydney. She wasn’t supposed to be home, but she definitely was, and while I’d thought that maybe because she was his real daughter, he wouldn’t touch her, I’d never been more wrong.

His heavy frame covered her tiny body. I was faced with his bare back as he held her down. Her long legs ending with pink toenails peeked out from beneath him. I couldn’t see his hands, but I knew he was covering her mouth. Her screams were muffled. I remembered the taste of his salty palm against my lips.

I wanted to scream for her, but my vocal chords felt broken and no sound came from my opened mouth. On their own, my legs moved me. I felt myself leaving the room and walking down the hallway. I took the stairs and somehow managed to keep myself from falling down them. I was in shock and my body felt foreign.

The doorknob to my father’s office felt cold against my heated palm. I knew where the key to his lockbox was hidden. I could remember going down there many nights and contemplating ending all the pain. I could remember unlocking the lockbox and holding the cold steel against my palm. It felt just the same in my palm now as it did all those many nights ago.

It was like I watched someone else’s movements, like a movie on the big screen, as I worked my way out of the office and back up the stairs. I was so far away from everything that nothing I did felt real. The stairs didn’t feel real, the hallway floor didn’t feel real, and when I stepped back into my sister’s room, that definitely didn’t feel real. But it was; everything I did was real. Everything I saw was real.

I stood there for a minute as he started to rip at her nightgown. He released her mouth to use both his hands and her soft cries reached my ears. They didn’t last long and I got a glimpse of her face and closed eyes as he shifted on top of her. She had passed out from fear. I could remember doing the same when I was young. I remembered waking up with my clothes all skewed and knowing my body was different somehow.

All of a sudden, I was back in control of myself. I felt the weight of the gun in my hand as I lifted my arm and pointed it at his back. Ten years of my life came crashing into me. The memories of his body on top of mine, his intrusion, his smell, and the way he sounded—all of it invaded my mind at once. It gave me all the determination I needed and in that moment I knew I was going to pull the trigger if it meant keeping Sidney from going through the same.

The force of the gun kicked my hand up. The sound was so loud it blocked out my hearing for a few seconds until all I could hear was the loud constant beep and buzz of my ears ringing.

His body jerked and he turned with wide eyes. Standing, his full naked body faced me and I felt nauseated by his nudity. He reached back and grabbed his back before bringing his bloodied hand around for inspection. I had indeed hit my mark, but now that I had, I wasn’t satisfied that he was still walking. If he was still walking, then that meant he could still perform. If he could still perform, then that meant Sydney still wasn’t safe. As long as he was breathing I could never be whole and she’d never be safe.

I matched his stare as I once again lifted the gun and aimed for his chest. It would only be the second time I shot a gun in my life and I’d be sure I didn’t miss. I squeezed the trigger once more and again my hand jerked up. His body crumpled to the floor in a mass of blood and naked flesh. I looked over at Sydney who was thankfully still unconscious. There was blood spatter on her pretty face and covering her pink bedding.

My tunneled senses expanded and once again I could take in everything around me. The popping in my ears remained, but now the beating of my heart was added to the sounds around me. The smell of sweat and blood filled my nostrils and the taste of bile filled the back of my throat as I felt myself getting sick. All those things slammed into me all at once and yet I felt so much lighter, as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from my chest.

I stepped up closer to his bloodied body and while I knew I should’ve felt sadness by the fact that I was probably going to spend the rest of my days in prison, all I could think about was how free I was going to be for the rest of my life.