The attack was over in seconds, yet it felt as though I had been laying bruised and battered on the cold flooring for hours. One balled fist after another and it didn't seem to slow down. My face felt broken; almost as though it was no longer attached to me. Of course, I knew it had to be, for I was still able to see out of one eye. The other refused to open. I brought my hands up to shield my face from any further onslaught – but it did absolutely no good. Another swing and my jaw collided with the concrete wall against which I lay slumped; trying and failing to curl up within myself as much as possible.
"Ye a filthy waste of space. I don't know why I brought ye in" he spat, tossing a bone cracking kick to my right side as I tried to turn away.
I turned, my back sliding roughly against the wall as I tried with great difficulty to stand. Defending myself was never a good idea, but I felt weak and useless merely sitting there and allowing his aggression to overpower me. Even if he would always be stronger than I – I would not stand down. Gathering the pool of blood that was swimming around my mouth, I aimed it at his face as I spat it out, watching with a smirk whilst it dripped down from his forehead. His face was now coated in red; almost like a mask. And in that moment, though I knew it would not last very long, I felt pleased with myself. I felt that I'd just given him a taste of his own medicine, and he could not take that away from me, no matter what he chose to do next. My fear of him had faded a long, long time ago. But, there was an ever present worry that he might take things one step further each and every time he lay a hand on me. Thus far, I was still very much alive. Torn and tattered on the inside and out, but still here nonetheless.
"If you think that of me, Uncle Arthur, why don't you let me go?" I asked, cowering just a tad as he raised one of his hands.
My pupils dilated as it balled into another fist; my blood or his blood evident upon his knuckles as he finally brought them down to collide painfully with my remaining good eye. Despite my hard manner and way of thinking – I couldn't prevent myself from crying out at the searing pain that blanketed my eyelid. Just when I thought he had ended the torture, he seemed to go from single punches, to one after another, repeatedly. If I had been watching this from afar, I would have thought he believed he was in a boxing arena. They just kept coming, over and over again; his feet soon joining in. The look on his face, from what I could see, was one of pure hatred and disgust. Yet, a sickening grin was plastered on his lips as he listened to my cries for help, knowing that no one around would hear me or even wish to help for that matter.
What felt like hours had only been minutes, once again. I was much too beaten and unstable to stand on my own once he had left the room. I remained in the kitchen for hours, waiting for the first sign of colour to show on the horizon. Then, I dragged myself across the room, quietly opened the door and heard the sound of heavy snoring. There would be no chance of him waking anytime soon, not if he'd had his usual amount of alcohol before collapsing onto his bed. I sighed a breath of relief as I stepped out onto the porch; the cool air somewhat of a comfort as it hit the cracked and open skin on my face. I couldn't see the damage, and I didn't really want to.
There was not really anywhere for me to go now, but after years of trying to build up the courage to leave, it was about time I'd managed to do so. The sun was slowly rising as I walked through the local vineyard and up through the woods. Only one person I had known in life would take me in, or at least offer a warm blanket and a good meal for the time being.
"Jack.." I croaked, knocking gently on the door of Moonshine Station, praying to god at least one of the brothers was awake to hear my call.
I was not standing there long when my old friend popped his head around the door to take a look at who would be knocking at such an ungodly hour in the morning. What was a bright smile, soon faded and flared into anger as he caught sight of the cuts and bruises adorning my features. I tried to brush it all off as though it was nothing – but there'd be no convincing him of that. Besides, it wasn't the kind of damage you could pass off as being anything but domestic abuse.
"Before you say anything, Jack, there's nothing you can do about it and there ain't nothing I want you to do about it, so leave it be" I said, stumbling inside as he opened the door and grabbed one of my arms.
Truth be told, I was thankful he remembered me after all this time. The night my parents had died, was also the last time I had seen Jack and his brothers. Now, at the age of twenty three and years on, the fear that he may have forgotten me had been diminished the moment I saw his smile. His attitude had not changed in the slightest, for his anger was threatening to tear him apart. He helped me take a seat at one of the stools beside the bar and asked if I'd like anything to drink.
"Anything strong that'll knock me out" I said, not realising how uncomfortable such a statement made him feel; his eyes still scanning the handy work of my kin.
"If I ever come across him, I will hurt him, Stella" he said, defiantly.
It was easy to turn the tables in his mind when we were kids, but I knew better than to argue back with him now. Though I wished he wouldn't allow such things to bother him, his need for revenge was sweet. If I had never known Jack, I would have wound up walking for miles and miles after leaving that dreaded house. Only, my uncle knew just how close we all used to be, back in the day. As soon as he noticed I was no longer around, he'd no doubt come looking for me, and here would be his first stop.
"Jack.. he knows, if you remember. When we were kids, he used to drop me off at your house all the time. He knows.. he'll know where to find me if.. whenever he realises I'm not there" I said, stuttering as a few tears escaped my eyes.
Before I was even able to blink another tear into freedom, Jack came bounding over to me from the other side of the counter and scooped me into his arms. My feet came up off the ground as he lifted me, carrying me in a bridal hold up the stairs and into an empty, yet comfortable looking room. I was going to complain and tell him it wasn't necessary, but the thought of getting some rest where I knew I'd be safe, was almost delightful. I just couldn't find it in myself to say no.
"Thank you, Jack. You've always been too good to me" I said, managing a soft smile.
He returned that smile tenfold as he pulled the covers over my sore body. I didn't much feel as though I had the energy to change into something a little less ripped to shreds, but it wouldn't matter much anyway if I was shielded by such a warm blanket. Despite my age, I snuggled deep under it for more warmth and buried my nose into the pillow. As I glanced up to thank Jack once again, he was sitting on the edge of the bed with a coy smile on his lips. Gingerly, he reached out a hand and ever so gently brushed aside a strand of hair from my face; just as my mother used to do.
"I'll be downstairs if you need anything, Stella. You get some rest, ya hear? We'll work things out this afternoon, once you've had a few hours" he said, placing a small kiss on my forehead before leaving the room; enveloping it in complete silence.
I was more than grateful to know Jack Bondurant. My parents had not approved of our friendship at first, but gradually, they came to understand how well we got along, and were more than happy in the end for us to play together. Where I would be right now if I hadn't befriended him all those years ago, I did not know, and I didn't wish to think about it any longer. Laying back properly, my head nuzzling the pillow more, I waited as sleep seemed to capture me within its clutches.
My dreams could not be described as dreams. They were more or less nightmares, in a deadly cycle. Not once had I been able to get a restful sleep since my parents accident. A part of me blamed my inability to accept the fact they were gone, but I knew that could not be it. My nightmares were violent; and there was only one explanation. There was only one other cause of such trauma in my life thus far, and I hoped to never go back to it. I would much rather die a thousand deaths than to return to such a lifestyle.
Light flooded through the room as I bolted upright from my laying position, clutching the blanket close to my chest in fright. Yet, my eyes remained closed, for the light was much too bright for me to gaze upon it. At first, I thought I was still sleeping – and the light had come to take me away from all my suffering, that my parents had come to bring me home. A loud sob echoed throughout the room as I fell back into the bed, writhing in anger, sadness and confusion. I felt my face contorting as I struggled to determine what my head was showing me; what it was trying to tell me. It was only a nightmare, though. A rough but warm hand against my cheek notified me of that. Yet, the unfamiliar touch shot fear through my body, and I once again lunged up from laying down, my eyes springing open.
As I looked through the window and its opened curtains, a small smile crept onto my lips. I was not in any kind of danger at all. I was with the Bondurant's, more specifically Jack, whom I expected to find beside me as I turned my head to hug him. A little too late for that. My arms had already freely wrapped themselves around the middle brother. A childhood crush I should say; the most handsome of all three. It seemed such a gesture made him comfortable, but that was a given. It made me quite uncomfortable as well when I realised whom it was that had been watching over me.
"Ah.. sorry, Forrest" I mumbled, my gaze darting toward my hands as I slunk back against the headboard.
He merely hummed in response, but made no move to get up from his chair. Clearly, I was not meant to rise just yet. I built up enough courage to raise my eyes so I could ask him a question.
"You do remember me, don't you?" I asked, worried he may very well have forgotten his younger brothers most faithful friend.
Of course, I had not forgotten any of them over the years. I had missed them all so very much; especially after the loss of the two people in my life whom I was never without. My parents meant the world to me. It took a lot to forgive everything and everyone involved. At first, I had been angry with my father for not concentrating or trying hard enough to prevent what was to happen. Then, with time, I realised nothing could have prevented the inevitable. My parents had been doomed to their fate the moment they set foot into that damn Cadillac. Even if the salesman should have checked all was in working order before making his sale. Even if my father should have checked it himself before giving it a test drive. If only one had gone and left the other behind. My thoughts seemed almost selfish now. At the time however, I had wished to have one of them around still. To have had one living parent; it was a much happier thought than the reminder of having lost both of them to the very same incident.
"Oh.. I remember you, Stella Campbell" he muttered, his eyes drifting toward the window, "You got my brother into all kinds of trouble."
I gulped, swallowing a lump that had built at the base of my throat over hearing his words. So, he remembered me, but it seemed there were little positive memories. It was true mind. Jack and I would always manage to get ourselves into numerous unfortunate situations, and I would more often than not take the blame for my gullible best friend.
"I'm sorry" I said, a quiet sight following as I pushed aside the covers and flung my legs over the side.
"Where do ya think you're going?" he asked, now rising from his chair and reaching me before I even had time to contemplate.
I gulped again, making a mental note to never do anything around Forrest without first checking it was alright to actually do so. His entire aura emanated curiosity as he stood over me, looking down at me with an unspoken question hanging on the tip of his tongue. He was chewing on a toothpick as he tipped his hat up and held it over his chest; a mark of respect as he held out a hand. Well, this certainly was a change from just a moment ago. I half believed he wished for me to stay in bed all day; and I wasn't about to do that. One way or another, I would pay them all back for allowing me to stay for a short while. Still, I realised that I would have to ask Forrest if that was alright. They had a business to run after all. I can't imagine what Jack wanted would be okay; it had to be okay with the middle brother or else it wasn't worth thinking about.
"Forrest, is it alright if I stay with you and your brothers for a short time?" I asked, hoping my question did not catch him off guard.
The silence creeping upon us both as he offered his arm and led me downstairs into the back kitchen bothered me immensely. I fought with my emotions as he sat me down upon the table, as opposed to the chair seated beside it. Deep down, I knew I'd asked something inappropriate and his answer would most definitely be a resounding no. The Bondurant's were on thin enough ice already; and they did not need to have anyone else around to disrupt the peace they'd managed to serve between the authorities and towns people who bought their liquor.
"Forrest.." I pressed, fearful that it would annoy him, but with a great need to know.
"You can stay as long as you need to, Stella. You shouldn't feel awkward about asking" he said, bringing over a bowl of water and first aid kit.
A faint blushed appeared on my cheeks at his words, as well as the idea of him cleaning up my wounds. I could see a hint of anger buried in his features; but he did not make it as obvious as Jack. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
"Afternoon, Bell" he cooed, marching; almost skipping, into the back kitchen and plonking himself down in the chair beside the table.
Both Forrest and I gawked at him as he sat there, his feet atop the beautiful mahogany and he stuffed his face with cornbread. He seemed none the wiser of the situation, despite the looks he was receiving. I would have swatted him upside the head had the eldest Bondurant not strolled in to collect him. A cheeky grin spread on his face as Howard gripped the back of his collar and hauled him to his feet, suggesting they go find something to occupy themselves with.
Somehow, I knew that Jack understood the difference between keeping others company and knowing when to give people their own company. He just enjoyed the idea of making matters complicated whenever they needn't be.
"Hasn't changed a bit, has he" I stated, with a small chuckle.
For the first time in many years, I caught sight of a tiny smile gracing Forrest's lips at my comment. Of course, he knew his brother and how much he might have changed since I last saw him – and that smile was an indication that I was correct. My best friend was still bound to be my best friend, if he was the same boyish fella I'd connected with back then.
"He hasn't" he said, pondering a moment. "It's not doing our business any favours either."
Curiosity killed the cat and I was a clumsy feline. I could not help but inquire as to what he meant by that, for it didn't sound too good to my ears; and he looked less than pleased with the remembrance.
"What do you mean..?" I questioned, tensing all over as he began to pat at the healing scars on my face with a damp cloth.
Forrest remained silent for a few moments, bathing in the question and working out how to properly word his unhappiness where his younger brother was concerned. He knew how close Jack and I once were, so it was clearly not a good idea for him to bad mouth the poor guy in my presence. He remembered much more about me than I would have thought, or so it seemed.
"Jack's a very determined soul, but he's all talk and nothing more" he said, a low grumble following his words.
I pouted a little at the thought of Jack not having grown up enough to get things moving. When we were kids, he used to spend hours telling me all about the plans he'd made and how he was going to one day be the Forrest of the Bondurant brothers; or the Howard, as opposed to his sorry self. I had believed him, and encouraged him to really go for it. People always told him he had a lot of growing up to do – and that included acting on his words, but from what Forrest had told me, he hadn't budged even an inch.
"Perhaps I could lend a hand with that" I suggested, smiling a little brighter at the thought.
Forrest didn't say much of anything after that. Our chatter died down until you could almost hear a pin drop in the next room, which was a given seeing as the other two boys were out on the porch.
"What happened, Stella?" he asked, breaking me from a trance I'd somehow slipped into.
The question startled me as much as his voice had. He hadn't once mentioned it until now – and I wondered why it had taken so long. Perhaps he had to build up the courage, just as I had to before. Still, he was a tough guy who seemed phased by absolutely nothing.
"The usual" I said, simply.
He took that as a hint to diminish further discussion, and that's just what occurred. No more chit chat between the two of us as he cleaned up my face a little more. It would be ideal for me to rant and rave about my bastard of an Uncle, but at the same time, I didn't want to put that kind of pressure on another. I knew that the more I told the Bondurant's about my abuse, the angrier and more dangerous they would become. I didn't much like the idea of spending time with anyone who resembled that horrible man I once called family; so I left it alone. Sooner or later, however, it would be uncovered and exposed.