Chapter 14. Ghost

Callie had kept where she was going quiet. She was surprised to hear from Linda, who spoke in a rushed voice. She told her about Mr. Jacob's rage-filled tirade the day before, and how he took off and hadn't returned. She told Callie that she'd found something significant, and wanted her to take it right away. Since Mr. Jacob had the car, Callie had to come to her. She parked her car half a block from the old house, and knocked on the back door. Linda let her in quickly, and Callie reached out to hug her. "How are you?" She asked. "Are you okay? Where are the girls?"

Linda led her through the kitchen as she answered. "I'm fine, Honey. Morgan is at a slumber party and Emily is at her Brownies meeting. They're just fine, too."

Callie shrugged, unsure. She didn't want to overstep her boundaries, but she knew her father, maybe better than anyone. "I'm worried. Maybe you guys should go somewhere, where you'll be safe?"

"I've thought about it," Linda replied. "But I don't know right now... anyway, we've got to hurry. Come here and look at this." Together, they walked down the hall. Callie paused at the living room doorway, touching the frame lovingly. The marks had been painted over, but she and Jude's height chart had been there once. She sighed sadly, thinking of the happier times they'd spent in that house, before their life was turned upside down. She felt like a ghost, haunting the place she'd lived long ago. She watched Linda take a shoebox from under the sofa, and set it on the cushion. Slowly, she joined her, ready to face whatever the box held.

Linda smiled proudly. "I think you're gonna be happy with what's in here."

"Thanks," Callie replied. "I'm so grateful that you did this for me." She poised her hand, ready to lift the lid, when they heard the screech of tires swerving into the driveway. She stood up in a panic, as Linda shoved the box back under the sofa. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Callie watched her father burst through the door. He reeked of booze, and his face was scarlet with anger. She cringed as he approached her.

"You just couldn't stay away!" He hollered accusingly, his bloodshot eyes staring into hers.

"I'm sorry," said Callie, her voice high with anxiety. "Please... I'm sorry. I was just leaving." Why couldn't she move? She was literally frozen with fear. Just like when her father used to hurt her. Just like when Liam was forcing himself on her. She felt like a coward.

"Too little too late," her father snapped. "Your ass is mine. I'm going to kill you!"

Callie backed up slowly, dizzy and terrified, as her father slapped her with the back of her hand. He grabbed her by the elbow, and shook her like a rag doll.

Linda cried out with a sob. "Leave her alone! Frank, she's your daughter!"

"She's nothing to me!" Mr. Jacob spat. Linda tried to pull him away from Callie, but he pushed her away. He wrapped his hands around his daughter's neck. Horrified, Callie felt her feet lift slightly off the floor. She whimpered, crying silent tears, as she struggled to wriggle away, to free herself, to breath.

"Frank!" Linda screamed. "Stop it. Please! Think about what you're doing. She has two little children..." Sensing that trying to reason with him was pointless, and a waste of precious time, she looked around frantically, then grabbed the first thing she could reach, her daughter's field hockey stick. Holding it up, she whacked her husband across the back of the head. His skull and the wooden stick connected with a 'smack.'

Callie coughed, clutching her throat, as her father fell to the floor. She was already lightheaded, and knew that if he'd constricted her breathing any longer, she would've passed out. She went into Linda's open arms, weeping.

"Come on, darling," Linda whispered. "Hurry. We have to get out of here."

"You saved me," Callie managed to whisper in a raspy voice, though it hurt to speak. Linda took her by the hand, and pulled her outside. Shaking, she took her phone from her pocket, and dialed 911.

To Be Continued