I fumble with the key but finally get the door open. Dashing down the hall to her bedroom, I burst in on my worst nightmare.
My daughter’s lying hunched up on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, hands held up to shield herself. That piece of shit is holding her hair and standing over her with his fist raised.
“You bitch!” he snarls at her, and I lose my fucking mind.
Not my daughter, motherfucker!
I reach for him, my vision red with rage. I yank him off her, my anger and fear for her safety giving me strength. My fist smashes into his shocked face and sends him flying across the room. He lands with a heavy thud against the closet door. Thank God, my grip on his arm was startling enough for him to let go of Lexi’s hair first. I reach for her, pulling her into my arms.
“Dad!” she sobs with relief, but I can feel her trembling as I tighten my arms around her.
“Are you okay?” I ask her while keeping an eye on Carter, who is slowly getting to his feet. I hold her tight as I risk a look at her face. Thebright red mark blooming under her right eye tells me everything I need to know. A cold fury rolls through me as I turn back to look at the piece of shit that hurt my daughter. All I can see is angry entitlement. Jesus, the arrogance of this fucker. I don’t see an ounce of remorse. Fuck that shit. It’s time to change that; this boy’s about to learn what it’s like to confront a man, not a girl.
I gently but firmly move my daughter behind me because I’m not done with this fucker. The rage riding me won’t be denied. I turn, fists up.
“I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with,” he sneers with misplaced confidence.
What the fuck? Who the hell does this kid think he is? Does he genuinely believe he’s above the law? Yes, that’s exactly what he thinks. Then, it hits me, he’s not concerned with consequences because there haven’t been any for him, and I know right then that this isn’t the first time he’s done this.
“Do you know who my father is?” He’s up in my face now, and the condescension inherent in that statement is surreal. There it is, the source of his confidence, the reason he doesn’t understand the repercussions of his actions. I don’t give a fuck who his father is, but he’s about to find out who I am.
“I don’t give a flying fuck who your dad is, you arrogant prick. No one raises a hand at my daughter.” I drop my arms, and he immediately swings, just like I knew he would. I’m not an idiot, so there’s no way I was swinging first. But now? Now it’s on. I bat his puny fist to the side.
“My turn, you piece of shit.”
My fist connects with his right cheek, and he reels back. I stare him down. I want that fucker to swing again. He’s not getting away that easily. He tries again, but I block it and smash my fist into his stomach. His knees give out, but I catch his left arm, holding him upright. I look him straight in the eye as he makes another feeble attempt to swing at me. I don’t evenmove away. I grab his fist and hold it, seeing hesitation start to form in his eyes as he realizes he might not win this fight, but still, I see no remorse or regret. So be it. I let go of him completely and step back, because I know this kid is dumb enough to swing again. He does, and then I let loose.
“We. Don’t. Hit. Women!” My voice is granite, and I emphasize my point with a jab to his torso for each word. I’m not even using my full strength at this point. I’m about to let the last one fly when I feel my daughter’s hand on my arm.
“Dad… I think he’s done. Dad. Stop!” she says shakily, trying to pull my arm away.
I take a deep breath and drop my hands to my side, breathing hard. Fury is still riding me, but I know my daughter is right. That’s enough. Carter falls forward on the bed, groaning, but neither of us moves to help him. He can lie there for all I care. I pull my daughter into my arms, trying to get my anger under control.
“Are you okay, Lex? How’s your head, baby girl? I’m so sorry I didn’t get here in time.” I try not to hold her too tightly while frantically brushing her hair out of her eyes so I can get a look at her face.
Her right eye is swollen and red, and there’s a small cut on her temple near the hairline. It makes me want to punch him all over again when I see the damage he’s done. I pull her toward the door.
“Let’s get some ice on that, honey.” I guide her gently out the door and down the hall. “The police are on their way.”
“Hands where we can see ’em! Now!”
I look up to see two policemen pointing their guns at me from the living room. Shit.
“No! He’s my dad. It’s okay. He’s not the one. Don’t shoot!” My daughter’s voice is high and panicked as she steps in front of me, hands up in front of her.
“He’s in the bedroom. He’s in the bedroom.” She keeps repeating it until they cautiously lower their weapons.
One officer heads toward the bedroom as the other gestures toward the living room, but Lexi runs out of bravado and collapses against me, sobbing. My heart’s in agony, and I gather her up in my arms as gently as I would have when she was a little girl, knowing that it’s going to take far more than dad hugs to fix this.
“Ambulance is on the way,” the other cop volunteers in a kinder voice.
I nod and carefully sit on the couch, holding her as gently as possible. Rocking her back and forth, letting her cry it out, I soothe my hand up and down her back. My heart is heavy, and now that I’m not punching someone, that helpless feeling is back. I don’t regret what I did to him. He was more than deserving, but I hate that it had to happen at all. I should have warned her about him. I should have said something. Why was I so afraid? I can’t even remember now.
“Do you want me to call your mom, honey?” I ask her quietly, guilt and shame weighing heavily on me.
She shakes her head. The sobbing is slowing down to more of a sniffle. There are tears and snot all over the front of my shirt, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The cop hands me a box of tissues. I nod my appreciation and give Lexi one.
