WOW! The response of this story has been awesome! I was not expecting that with this first chapter. I hope you all stick around for the whole ride because it will be worth it!
"A middle-aged man, James Hunter, was found dead this morning in an alleyway behind the local Costco. Hunter was one of the lead suspects in a string of rapes from the last year. FBI Agents believe that he was murdered by a vigilantly, though, who they have now dubbed 'The Crusade Killer.' Nancy Davis has more on this story. Nancy?"
I rolled my eyes and began cleaning up the beer cans that littered the coffee table and floor. My Dad, Charlie, on the other hand, had something to say about this 'Crusade Killer'.
"This douche bag can take a hike. Someone should find the fucker and kill him," he said darkly, tipping the rest of his beer into his mouth. "Men like that killer have no place here. I say let the guys like me live our lives. What we do to our women is our own goddamn business," he growled, crushing the can and throwing it at me.
Luckily, Charlie had crappy aim on a good day, but when he was drunk, he was completely backwards. The can that he had aimed at me sailed about four feet to my left and landed less than a foot away from his recliner chair. I made a non-committal hum, but didn't look up from gathering the trash. My dad wasn't talking to me anyway. He was just talking to hear his own voice and to let me know, again, how he viewed me and women in general. We were property…possessions, but not nice possessions. More like something that was a burden that he had to care for constantly. If it weren't for the money Charlie received from the state for me after my mother's death, I know that he would have kicked me out long ago.
As it was, I dreaded and yet couldn't wait for my eighteenth birthday. At eighteen, I could move out and never see this man again, but at the same time, I would have nowhere to go. College wasn't an option for me. I didn't have that kind of money, and my dad made too much to qualify for any kind of financial aid that wouldn't have to be paid back. Call me crazy, but the idea of spending years in college, borrowing loan after loan to make it through, only to have to pay it back the rest of my life later on, did not appeal to me in the slightest.
"You women all expect too much," my dad continued on with his rant. "Wanting shit all the time, yet never giving back. I have my own goddamn needs, too, and I don't need to be trying to take care of yours, as well."
I nodded my head once more, glad when the last can was picked up. The faster I could make my escape to my bedroom, the better off I would be. Charlie had the weekends off, but he would be gone before I left for school in the morning. One good thing about Charlie was that he was a dedicated employee to the Police Station. He hardly ever missed work or called in sick. Even if he did go into work with a hangover ninety percent of the time.
After disposing of the trash, I made my way to the living room for what I hoped would be the last time tonight.
"I'm heading to bed," I said softly. "Is there anything else you need before I go?"
I wasn't asking because I genuinely cared. I was asking because if I didn't, that was considered an offense punishable by belt, and I did whatever it took to avoid the belt.
"No," he muttered. "Get to bed and make sure you're up in time for school."
"Yes, Sir."
~~~~AOMM~~~~~~
"Did you see his face?"
"And so, I was like, totally caught, and now I'm like, freaking grounded forever."
"It's always so fucking cold here. I feel like I should be an eskimo."
I made my way through the hallways of David Douglas High School, ignoring the conversations that took place around me. David Douglas High was just like any other High School, I imagined. You had your jocks, your preps, your popular crowd, and then you had people like me - the undesirable kids. The ones that were happiest when we were ignored. But that was just how we wanted it. No one gave us attention, good or bad. My goal in high school was to make it out alive and without anyone knowing about what truly went on behind closed doors. And with almost twenty-eight hundred kids in this high school alone, that goal was fairly easy to maintain. I was just a number. Another body in the crowd. And that was just the way I wanted it.
The week passed quickly, with almost no interaction with Charlie, and I felt like things were finally beginning to look up. My grades were great and the school year was coming to an end. I even had one particular teacher send me home with a paper for Charlie to sign to give his permission to move me into a college level AP class next year.
That night, I made Charlie's favorite dinner - Beef Stroganoff - in hopes to keep him somewhat happy. Happy enough to sign my form, at least.
While waiting on dinner, I quickly finished up my homework and set the table. I was just reaching into the fridge for Charlie's beer when I heard the front door close. I shut the fridge quickly and watched as my dad hung up his gun belt and took off his jacket. I grabbed my paper and sat down at the table, waiting for Charlie to pick up his plate and take it to the living room. As he reached for his plate, his eyes caught mine before they slid to the paper I was grasping in my right hand.
"What's that?" he asked gruffly.
"It's um, a form," I stuttered, holding it out for him to take. "It's for you to sign."
Before I could even blink, Charlie knocked the paper from my hand, forcing my entire arm to fly to the right. I cried out in pain as shocks ran up and down my arm, while I quickly cradled it to my chest.
"What the fuck did you do?" he yelled, forgetting his plate and coming after me instead.
I cringed away from him as his hand shot out and grabbed a fist full of my hair, yanking my head back so that he was towering over me. I had no choice but to look up at him.
"I didn't do anything!" I cried. "It's for a class they want me to take next year."
Charlie released his grip, but not before knocking the side of my head with his palm.
"You don't need another class," he said, picking up his plate and making his way to the living room.
I knew better than to argue. Instead, I cried silently and got up to throw my dinner in the trash. I wasn't hungry any longer. As I rinsed my plate, the hairs on my arms stood up on end, and I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something wasn't right. My heart began to beat erratically, and I glanced up and out the window in front of me that looked out over the side of our house. I looked left and right, but didn't see anything that seemed out of the ordinary.
"Jesus Bella," I muttered darkly, "get a grip."
But that feeling didn't disappear overnight, or even throughout the next week. Goosebumps randomly covered my skin and I was constantly scanning the areas around me, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing to see, though. As I was walking to school on a Monday morning, I couldn't help but to glance behind me after every few feet. That same feeling of dread followed me all the way to school.
"I need to get more sleep," I muttered to myself as I walked into the school.
~~~~~AOMM~~~~~
"Bella, please stay after class for a moment when the bell rings," Mrs. Goffery called out seconds before the final bell was about to sound.
There was a chorus of 'oohs' that made me blush ten shades of red, and almost every head in the class turned to glance at me. Luckily the bell rang not ten seconds later, and the rest of the students stampeded towards the door and to their freedom. I quietly gathered my books and made my way to the teacher's desk, already knowing what she was going to say.
"Do you have the paper for me, Dear?" she asked gently, smiling at me over her half-moon glasses.
Mrs. Goffery was everything I believed a grandmother would be. She had white hair that came down to her shoulders, wore glasses, and always spoke in a kind, soft voice. Even when her students would become rowdy, she never raised her voice. She just continued talking in a normal tone until the class had to settle down to hear her. She was very motherly to every student, and never held a grudge against the ones that acted out once in a while.
She was my favorite person.
"I thought about it over the weekend," I replied, wringing my hands. "And I just don't feel like I'm ready for that kind of class."
I kept my gaze down, unwilling to look Mrs. Goffery in the eyes. I hated lying to her. And I was mad at my Dad. This class was something I strived for. I worked my ass off this year to qualify for it, and now that I finally had my chance at it, it was taken away from me in the blink of an eye. But of course I couldn't tell her that. I couldn't let on to her how much this class meant to me. She would for sure call Charlie, and then he would just tell her some bold faced lie about not getting the paper. The only good thing that would come from that scenario would be that Charlie would feel threatened and would sign the paper and act like the doting father for that moment. Then I would get to take the class next year.
But at what price? My inner voice asked.
"Why do you feel like you aren't ready?" Mrs. Goffery asked, sounding surprised.
I winced at the tone of surprise and continued on with my well-rehearsed story.
"I don't feel like I would be able to keep up," I lied. "I think I would be better off if I waited. I don't want to burn myself out."
Mrs. Goffery didn't say anything for a few seconds, and I finally looked up to see her eyeing me speculatively. She didn't believe me. I held my breath as I waited for her to call me out on my lie…to question me. To make my will crumble and admit everything to her. But it never came.
"Very well, Dear," she said sadly, giving me a small smile. "If you insist."
I breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled back sadly in return. "I do. Thank you for the opportunity, though," I said.
On the walk home from school, I let my tears fall unchecked down my face. There was no one around me to see. No one around me to care. And for that brief moment, I allowed myself to cry. To feel the sadness at being denied something I desperately wanted. Once in a while, I felt like this was the story of my life. I would want something so badly, and that something would make me so happy, but then it would just be gone. I was sure I was never going to be happy.
The feeling of being followed came over me once more, but I didn't care. I checked behind me once in a while, but like every other time, there was nothing there. I made it home safely and bolted the door behind me. The feeling was getting stronger and I didn't understand it. I even second guessed myself about bolting the door; I could easily let someone take me away, someone who might care about what happened to me. Sighing, I kept the door locked, stashed my school bag, and began yet another night of cooking and cleaning up after Charlie.
Thanks to our girls for all their help! These chapters will get longer as we move on.