**Y'all don't get mad at me. Or Reba. She has her reasons. Anyways, sorry it's been so long! There's a bunch of emotion in this chapter. Please keep reading- I promise this depressing story ends good! I hope you like it! Leave a review, and thanks for everything! :) **
-Chapter 16-
I awoke to the sounds of pots and pans banging together downstairs. I rubbed my eyes as the scenes from last night replayed in my head.
"Jake, watch where you're going!" I heard Kyra yell.
"Make me!" I heard the pitter-patter of Jake's feet run out of the room.
I sat up slowly and looked around Brock's guest room. The curtains were closed, but still rays of sunlight shone through, illuminating the room. I pulled off the covers and slid out, landing on the ground on achy legs. Before I could even panic about not having clothes, I saw a nicely folded outfit of mine next to the bed. There was a pair of jeans, and a green designed long-sleeve shirt from my clothing line. I didn't question why they were there, but just threw them on. I walked downstairs without even bothering to comb out my hair, which was surely a mess.
"I don't know, Mr.H. I'm pretty sure that possum on the side of the road had an evil eye." I heard Van talking when I got downstairs. But when I walked into the kitchen, everyone stopped and stared at me.
"Mornin'..." I said.
"Wow, Mrs.H. You look like crap." Van stated.
Cheyenne gasped. "Shut up Van!" She hit him in the arm as I walked past them to sit down at the table. I sat across from Kyra, who was on her phone with an empty plate in front of her. Elizabeth was in her highchair, and I kissed her on the head when I passed her.
"Are y'all still cooking breakfast?" I asked, ignoring Van's comment.
"Um, mom, it's 2 in the afternoon. We're having a late lunch." Cheyenne looked concerned. "What time did you go to bed last night?"
It was 2 already?
I couldn't even think of the last time I had slept in that late. "I'm not sure." I dazed off, and then realized they were all watching me. "Sorry I'm not very talkative. I've just had a long night." I shrugged it off.
"Was it one of those crazy fans who try to break into your house and smell your hair while you sleep?" Kyra asked plainly. I looked at her confused until Brock, who had been silently cooking, butted in.
"I'm sure your mother doesn't want to talk about it. Give her some space." Just then I realized what they thought my reasoning was behind staying the night there.
"I was just wondering." Kyra mumbled and then got up to put her plate in the sink. Her phone made a noise, and she looked down at the screen. "Hey Dad, Jenna's mom is here. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Love you." He put his arm out and gave her a side hug.
"Love you too." She said while grabbing her bags and walking out.
"Have fun, love you!" I said from the table. She looked at me and left without a word. I turned to find Brock staring at me. I worded wow, and then rolled my eyes as I looked out the window.
"Reba do you want lunch?" He asked to break the sad tension.
"Yes, please. Grilled cheese is fine." I stayed looking out the window, trying to convince myself not to be hurt by her.
"Hey me and Van are about to leave, too. We're meeting some friends for a movie and then dinner. We're taking Elizabeth." Cheyenne said, oblivious to what happened. I looked up at her, and then over to Brock when I noticed he wasn't responding. I found him still staring straight at me, the look of concern and care he had worn the last few weeks strong on his face. Wow, that man could read me.
"Okay, that's fine." He shook out of his trance and looked towards them. "Can you do me a favor and drop Jake off at his friend's house on the way?" He asked.
"I guess. But I thought you said he couldn't go earlier?" Cheyenne pointed out.
"Well I changed my mind. I'll go tell him right now." Brock left the room.
"Mom?" Cheyenne climbed off the barstool and came to sit next to me. "Dad has been acting weird." She said in a hushed voice. Van stayed at the counter, lost in a sports magazine.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he hasn't been drinking too much lately, but even when he's sober I can tell he's changed. He just seems so...empty." Cheyenne looked down. It broke my heart to see her worry. I reached out and held her hands tightly.
"I'm not really sure what's going on with your daddy." I said, honestly. "All I know is that we need to be there for him. He's a tough guy. He'll be okay." I said with a smile. She smiled back, but it dimmed quickly.
"Mom...You've been acting weird too." She added quietly, almost scared to say it. Van looked up when he heard what she had said, swallowed hard, and then looked back down at the magazine.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know, you just haven't been yourself. You've seemed so stressed, and out of it. You seem empty, too, Mom. Plus, you look like you've been through hell right now." She said.
"Well, I kinda have." I offered a laugh, and successfully lightened the mood. Cheyenne loosened a little. "I'm okay, too. I've just had a lot going on. But don't you worry about me, okay?" I squeezed her hands tighter. "I promise I'm alright."
She finally sighed. "Okay, Mom. Just let me know if you're ever not. You may not think so, but there's always something I can do to help. Unless it's menopause. I can't help you there." We giggled, and Van gagged in the background. Just then Jake came running out of the living room. He had a bag that had obviously been thrown together quickly, and clothes were falling out of the sides.
"Bye Mom, love you, see you later!" He didn't stop once as he sped out the door. "I'll be in the car!" He yelled to Cheyenne.
I hugged her tightly. "Y'all go have fun, okay?" I pulled back and smiled at her.
"Okay Mom, we will." I kissed Elizabeth goodbye before she pulled her out of her highchair. She handed her to Van and they walked out right about the same time Brock came in and pulled my grilled cheese off of the stove. He put it on a plate and brought it to me.
"Thank you, I was starving." I said as he sat a Coke next to my plate.
"When aren't you?" He asked, fighting back a laugh and preparing for me to slap him. I playfully hit his arm. He chuckled and sat across from me.
"Did you already eat?" I asked. He nodded.
"Cheyenne went by the house and brought you your clothes. Van drove your car back here so you can leave whenever you want."
"That was sweet of them." I continued to eat as he pulled out a golf magazine and began reading it.
It was quiet for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was actually nice. After I was done with my food, I stood up and sat my plate in the sink. "Thanks, again." I said with a smile.
"You're welcome." He said, looking up and returning my smile. He gazed towards the ground, and I watched as his smile slowly faded. "Reba, I need to talk to you."
I swallowed hard. "Okay."
"Can we go in the living room?" I nodded and followed him, scared of what we were going to talk about. He let me sit on the couch first, and then sat on the other end. He grabbed my phone, which had somehow ended up on his coffee table, and handed it to me. I looked at him confused, and he motioned to the screen. I clicked it on, and the my breath caught in my throat.
Last week, I had finally decided to save John's number, which was a stupid move of mine. The little screen in my shaking hand showed 37 missed calls from John. I stared at it, not knowing what to say.
"I wish I had seen your phone when he was calling. I would have loved to answer and give him a piece of my mind." He said, looking off.
"I'm glad you didn't." I said emotionless. I looked at the phone one last time, and then set it down, trying to stay calm and not think about what was happening.
"I know what's going on." Chills went through my body.
"What, then?" I asked.
He flinched, and then looked down as if thinking about it hurt him. He took a long, deep breath. "You're scared of him." He said in a drained voice. It was somewhere between a question and a statement. He looked up at me and I turned away quickly. "You've never been scared of anyone, Reba." He stated, waiting for a response. I didn't give one. He took another breath. "What is he doing to you?"
"I don't want to talk about it." I said.
He sighed, and rubbed his head. "I don't know what to do."
"Well, that makes two of us." I added sharply. He looked down sadly and I softened a little. "I... I can't talk about it, Brock."
He looked up slowly at me, and then scooted closer. "Why not?"
"I just can't." I tried to make it sound like a simple answer.
He placed his hand on my arm. "Reba, please tell me." He begged in such a quiet voice.
"I can't." I said softly as I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
He scooted forwards and wiped it off with his finger. "Please. Don't keep this to yourself. It'll kill you." He almost whispered. "Let me protect you."
Another tear fell as I looked down, still feeling his eyes on my face. "Brock," I took a deep breath. "If I tell you, you can't do anything stupid."
He thought for a second. "Okay."
"I mean it. If I pour out my heart to you right now, I'll be telling you things that I've never told anyone else before. Awful things. Things that I'm ashamed of. And some things that I know will make you mad. But you have to promise me that you'll just take it, and not do anything about it. If you can't promise that, tell me now. Because I can't tell you if you can't." I looked at him. I could tell he was thinking hard. Finally, he carefully spoke.
"Okay...Fine."
"It will probably take a long, long time if you want to hear everything."
"We've got all day." He repositioned himself to get comfortable. I did the same.
I collected myself, and then looked up at him, "Well, it all started when I went to Roy's one night..."
It took two hours to get it all out. I told him about the men who almost beat me, which made him mad, and then I told him about the first time John beat me, which made him even madder. I had to stop so many times to calm him down that I stopped counting.
Somehow, I ended up telling Brock every single detail, which I hadn't planned on doing. I told him about the forced sex, and the cigarettes and the drugs I had seen him do. I told him how the bruise on my face from 'set pieces falling on me' was really from John, and he looked away. I knew he was fighting back tears. I told the story of him and his sick sexual ways, including the time he asked me to kiss a girl in front of him. I could tell Brock didn't know what to do as he clinched his fists and turned the other way. At one point, he even punched the pillow in his rage, saying that he would kill him as soon as he could. Besides stopping to calm him down, I also stopped to sob several times. I cried into his shirt most of the time, feeling so relieved to let my story out. I cried over my cuts and bruises, over my broken heart, and over my lost dignity. I told him how ashamed I was of myself, and he pulled me off and looked into my eyes.
"Don't ever think any of this was your fault."
"But Brock-"
"He's an awful man." He cut me off. "He did all of this, and none of it was your fault. You were practically defenseless, Reba! Don't blame yourself for this." I nodded, and sniffled as he wiped away another tear.
I finally told him about how I got away from John, and caught him up with where I was now. I also told him about what John had told me- how if I told he'd come after my family. The one thing I avoided telling him was that John had came after me before. He asked if John knew where I lived, and I reassured him that he didn't, and that I wouldn't be in any danger at home. I told him I just didn't want to be alone the night before. I knew that if I told him John would come to the house, he wouldn't let me be alone. He would stake out at the house and wait for him. And after what he said about my family, I couldn't risk John knowing Brock knew.
When I finally stopped talking, Brock took a hard breath, trying to calm himself.
"Let me take care of him." He said through clinched teeth.
"You said you wouldn't do anything stupid. There's too much to risk." I said sharply.
"No, Reba." He stood up quickly. "I'll be damned if he gets away with this." His voice was rising.
"Brock, you promised me!"
"I can't just let him get away with this!" He looked at me like I was insane. "Gosh, I wish I had known from the beginning. None of this would have ever happened!"
"None of this would have ever happened? None of this would have ever happened if you hadn't gone off and left me the way you did!" I jumped up, suddenly, unexplainably furious. Brock looked at me, stunned.
"What?" Brock stuttered.
"You wanna know why I went to that bar in the first place, Brock?" My voice rose as I walked towards him. "Because I felt useless! I felt used. Do you know how long it had been since you made me feel special? Or since you made me feel pretty?" Tears swelled in my eyes. "I wanted to feel that, Brock! I needed it! No matter the cost, I wanted to feel like someone wanted me. I wanted to feel... I wanted to feel..." I looked around, not knowing what I wanted. "I wanted to feel something. Anything! You left me numb, Brock!"
"Hey-" He walked towards me and I held my hand out making him stop.
"Do you know how much I loved you?" The room got so quiet it felt as if the silence filled me, making my head tingle. Brock stood there, with a white face, completely speechless. "I would have given anything for you. I would have given my life for you. And then, right when I needed you most...You left."
He slowly walked towards me and held out his arms. I didn't move. He let his arms fall to his side, but continued to walk towards me. When he came close enough, he held out his hand and stroked my cheek.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered, focusing on every detail of my face. He turned his hand and cupped my face. And suddenly, I found it.
I found what I had wanted to feel that night. I wanted to feel love. But yet, I went looking in the wrong direction. An overwhelming feeling entered my heart as I looked into his eyes. But just as soon as it came, it left, and was replaced with anger. Insane, unexplainable anger. I jerked back, not wanting to fall for what was happening between us.
"Why don't you just leave me alone, Brock?" For some reason, I started screaming. All of the pain, anxiety, and fear of what was to come was weighing down on me, and I felt it all coming out at one time. I couldn't control myself. "Why do you think you can do what you've done to me, and then just jump in and save the day? You know what you're doing to me? You're making me want this-making me want us!" I started to tear up through my screams. He tried to come towards me, but I pushed him back. "Brock, no! This is exactly what I'm talking about! Do you know how hard it is to want to feel the way you make me feel, but know that I can't? Or how hard it is to be beaten and used, and then feel the way you act like you care? When in the back of my mind I know it won't last?" I was trying to breathe and figure out what I was saying at the same time. "I just need to be alone." I turned around and started towards the door. Brock ran up behind me and grabbed me, trying to stop me. But in the moment, feeling his hands on me as I was trying to get away, made fear take over me. I screamed, and turned and slapped him hard on the face. He stumbled back, and I put my hand over my mouth, coming out of my rage and realizing what I had done.
"I'm so sorry." I jumped towards him, and moved his hand, which was on his cheek. It was already pink, and I rubbed my hand over where I had hit. "I just got scared."
"You know I would never lay a hand on you." He said, reassuring and hurt at the same time. I rubbed his cheek one last time, and then let my hand fall as I turned towards the door. I began to walk out, and he was silent as I did so. Right as I was shutting the door behind me, he came quickly to the door, as if he had been building up courage the whole time.
"Reba, wait!" I faced him. "Why won't you let me protect you?"
I took a slow breath. "Because, Brock. You promised you would protect me before. I relied on that- I depended on that. I depended on you. So when you suddenly gave up on me, I was left alone, without an idea of how to keep myself safe. I went crazy. And now, I'm just figuring out how to be strong on my own, without you here. If I gave in to you now, the minute John was out of the picture you'd be gone and I'd be alone and dependent again, not knowing what to do. I can't put myself through that again." I turned to go, but he stopped me again.
"But, Reba," He started, obviously not knowing how to express what he felt. "I wouldn't leave after John was gone. I wouldn't want to. I never wanted to." I stared at him for a second, not knowing what to say. Finally, I spoke in a dry voice.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you honestly think I wanted to leave you? Reba, we had something beautiful. I know you know that just as much as I do. But one day, I was overwhelmed. We had been fighting, and you suddenly left for Broadway, without even saying goodbye. We didn't even get to talk it over. I felt like a failure. I felt like I had hurt you. And I didn't know how to handle those feelings. So, I did something stupid. You can relate to that, right?" Just like Barbara Jean had done, he was comparing his situation to mine. But ours were actually quite different. I let him speak anyways. "The morning after, I felt awful. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to give us up. I was supposed to be there for you, and I failed. I know that. But,'' He took a step forward, "I want to make things right. Reba, please let me be there for you." I saw his hands shaking. I knew it took a lot of courage for him to say this to me. But still, I couldn't figure out exactly what he was trying to say.
"What are you asking from me?" I asked stupidly, so overwhelmed with everything that was happening at once.
"I'm asking-" He stopped and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm asking for another chance. For us." He said, finally looking deep into my eyes.
My chest tightened and I felt as if the world had stood still. Was he really asking this from me? Yes, he was. And I wanted to say yes. I wanted to so bad. But, I couldn't. Not after what he'd done.
"You had your chance." I said coldly, and then walked away.
He didn't stop me as I got in my car and drove away. He didn't see me as I sat behind the wheel, trying to see straight as I cried harder than I ever had before. He didn't see me as I cursed at the air and pounded my fist into the steering wheel. He didn't see me as I walked into my house and crashed on my couch, trying to make sense of everything.
I never looked back. I didn't see him walk inside, locking the door behind him. I didn't see him fall against the wall, crying like a little boy. I didn't see him pull out a bottle of Vodka and down it in 20 minutes. I didn't see him reach for more after that. I didn't see him stumbled to the living room when he heard my phone ringing on the table. I didn't hear him curse as he saw John's name. I didn't hear the anger in his voice when he answered.