“Oh there he is!” My speech comes out slurred as I pull myself up straight again, slamming my pointer finger into his chest. “There’s the angry man who raised me.”
I watch as he clenches his jaw before speaking through his teeth, “Nova, you’re going to wake your mom up. Get inside this fucking house right now.”
I twist his shirt up in my fist, the rage hitting its boiling point. “Oh so it’s only okay for you to bother her? Does that mean I can’t hit her either? You know, like you used to?”
The alcohol sloshing around in my stomach is begging to make an appearance with all the moving around I’m doing. My bedreally is starting to sound nice right about now, but letting go of this anger feels good.It feels really fucking good.
Dad’s hand reaches up and wraps around my wrist. His grip hardens until pain is shooting down my arm, forcing me to let go. “In this house, you will not speak to me like that.” He starts off, refusing to let go even though I had. “Respect your father, Nova Harper, and get inside the damn house.”
I grind my teeth so harshly that surprise fills me when they don’t crack under the pressure. Without thinking too deeply, I rear my head back before slamming into him.Crack!The sound of his nose meeting my skull rings through my ears. Blood instantly gushes from his nostrils, but it was enough that he had finally let go of me. I quickly turn to run when a large hand wraps into my hair. With a sharp yank he pulls me into the house. My scream echoes through the small trailer and I reach my hands up, clawing at him with desperation. I feel his skin begin to split under the pressure of my nails. The feeling brings the nausea front and center, this time however, I’m unable to hold it back. Translucent liquid spews from my mouth, decorating my outfit in a shiny and horrific coating.
“Let her go!” I hear mom scream from the left of us. Dad completely ignores her as he drags me over to the couch. I kick my legs out, my shoes slamming into the coffee table. I hear the glass from the center shatter before I see the sharp edges glisten under the moonlight. The broken furniture seems to only fuel him farther. He drops my head, allowing it to bounce against the floor. The throbbing pain leaves me feeling dizzy.
He grabs the front of my shirt, picking my body up with ease. The threads aren’t able to withstand the pressure as they begin to separate around my chest. With a harsh shove, he pushes me onto the seating.
“Daddy please!” I scream out as my limp body slams into the cushions. “I’m sorry!”
“I’m sure you are,” he snarls back at me. The darkness surrounding us leaves him looking even more like a monster than I can remember. He leans over me, blood dripping from his nose onto my face. I quickly shut my mouth after the first coppery drop slips between my teeth. Dad lets out a few angry puffs of air before I see mom’s hands wrap around him gently.
“Baby it’s okay. You’re okay.” Her voice trembles with fear as she tries to soothe the angry beast looming over me. “I called someone to come get her.”
Her words shred me. The emotional pain completely covers the physical pain, the feeling of Dad’s hands on me disappear at the arrival of betrayal. She called someone to pick me up. Me. Not him. As always I watch her cower to the man who has ruined both of our lives. He turns around, pressing his forehead to hers as if she is the cure to his madness. I watch as she interlaces her dainty fingers with my dad’s and slowly pulls him away.Why can’t she choose me?
Tears flow out of me as I lay there, staring at the two of them as they slowly head back to their room. Mom looks over her shoulder at me, pain laced into her features. “Go wait outside, SuperNova.”
Their door creaks to a shut, allowing silence to take over the house. I hold my breath, frozen in place with fear.The monster still lives here,I think to myself. Although it’s not my voice I hear. It’s the little girl with blonde pigtails. The girl I used to be, who’s been haunting me for half my life.
Trying to stay as quiet as a mouse, I ease myself off of the couch and take a few steps towards the front door. The moment my foot hits the ground for the fourth time a truck flies into our lot. The headlights blind me as I try to look through the living room blinds. My breath catches in my throat as I stare at the truck, but when it doesn’t move it finally dawns on me that this must be whoever my mother called.Who would she even call?My mind sorts through any idea of who the mystery person out front could be.
My hand wanders up to my chest, coaxing me to inhale deeply, now is not the time to lose it. Picking up my feet again, I finally make my way out the front door, taking my time to close the screen door. The little girl in me is screaming to be quiet. If the door creaks, the monster will return.
Play The Scientist by Savanna Leigh
“Nova, it’s okay.” A voice whispers from right behind me. A tattooed hand covers mine on the doorknob, gently pulling my hand away. I turn in place, taking in Saint’s worried face. “Let’s go, okay?”
I nod my head at him, allowing myself to cry more than I was inside. They spill out of me with such speed I feel as though I could drown the city. With my palm in his, he guides me to the truck, opening the passenger door and making space for me to climb in. The woody scent of his cologne surrounds me as He steps up on the running board, reaching across my vomit soaked body to snag the seatbelt. With soft hands he quickly buckles me in before heading over to the drivers side.
“Why are you here?” I whisper, finally getting a control on my sadness. I stare down at my hands, my fingernails stained with blood. Bits of my father’s skin pokes out from a few of them forcing the memories to infiltrate my mind. I hold back the fear that begins to grow in my shoulders, allowing my body to feel the physical pain rather than my mind.
“You needed me.” He responds, shifting into reverse. Saint’s eyes never leave the road, so I decide not to press him further. Not about why my mother called him or why he hates me so much. No, right now I rest my head back, letting the AC drift over my body as Saint drives through the city.
Right before I had left town, Saint had been allowed to drive for the first time. His uncle had taken him onto the city’s back roads and I swear that had been the highlight of his life. The next day he spent an hour telling me all about the experience. I remember the joy in his boyish face as he tried to recreate how the rumble of the steering wheel had felt when they drove across the dirt. He had been holding my hands in his, shaking them around. When I couldn’t stop laughing he had promised me the moment he turned sixteen, he’d take me around in his moms car. He wanted me to experience the freedom of it for myself. I can faintly remember the butterflies that had begun to fester in my stomach at his words.
Now as I sit next to him I don’t see that joy. He looks tired, with bags under his eyes and a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth. Although it’s now reaching three in the morning, lack of sleep wouldn’t be my guess for his appearance. It’s like something had shifted in him tonight. The spite-fueled Saint is gone, replaced with someone who calls out to my soul.He seems broken.Would I be able to feel the cracks that are barely holding him together? I lock my hands together in my lap, fighting the need to reach out and touch him.
“I have some spare sweats I’ll bring into the bathroom once we’re inside.” He finally speaks up as we pull into the parking lot of an aged apartment building. The outside is all brick, long vines creeping up all four sides. A rickety looking fire escape dangles on the left side of the building. It looks so old I’d imagine if anyone really tried to escape using it it would just plummet to the ground.
“Is Abby home?” I question as we both hop out of the truck. The stench of my clothing really starts to hit me as I move around and I’m surprised Saint hadn’t said anything while in the truck.
He glares at me as his jaw ticks. “No.” The word leaves his mouth abruptly before he drags a palm over his face. When I can finally see his eyes they look softer. “She’s at her mom’s tonight.”
“Oh.” I respond sheepishly before following him into the building.
The moment we enter the hallway the smell of marijuana assaults me. I lightly part my lips, choosing to breathe through my mouth rather than dealing with the scent. It’s obnoxiously bright in here, a light on the ceiling every two doors. The pounding in my head strengthens as we walk down the corridor.I’m never drinking again.
Saint’s pace begins to slow down before stopping completely in front of a door labeled ‘28.’
“There’s not even twenty eight doors here?” I lightly question, staring at the number dumbfounded.
