Relinquish(75)

“The tattoo on your back, I saw it that day. But I don’t remember how.”

“When I stepped up to block you, it made me closer to your mother. Blood splattered on me, and Father told me to take my shirt off and wipe my face with it. Our car was parked right outside, so nobody would notice if I was wearing a shirt or not. So I took it off, cleaned myself, and we left.”

I shake my head, not wanting to believe anything he’s saying.

“Do you know what kind of Hell you put me in? What life you placed in my hands?” I yell, pointing at him with resentment.

He stomps forward, his jaw ticking as he grabs me by the shoulders. “I f*cking saved you. If it weren’t for me, your shitty life wouldn’t have ever happened.

“In fact, I’ve been saving your ass since the day I saw you hiding under that table. If I wasn’t in that alley, who knows what those college pricks would’ve done to you. Taking you from Mick, taking you off the streets, all of it.” He waves his hand in front of his face as he continues to justify his actions. “I don’t know what else you want from me,” he mumbles, his head hung low.

“Knowing the truth, knowing that my mother is really dead – it hurts.” I sob.

He grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me into him, hugging me. His arms are strong as he cocoons me into his taut chest.

“I just can’t believe you somehow made it back to me,” he mutters into the top of my head. “I went back when I could, but you were already gone.”

I close my eyes and fist his shirt, images of cops and first responders popping behind my eyelids. The looks on their faces when they found me under that table. How I wouldn’t talk to any of them, or let them touch me. The ride in the back of an ambulance with a gray wool blanket wrapped around me as they took me to the hospital, and eventually to the psych ward. I open my eyes, and I can’t decide if I’m angry, hurt, or grateful. I have a right to all of those feelings, but they’re all swirling inside of me at the same time, making me feel dizzy.

“Talk to me, Charlie,” Landon whispers, sweeping his hands along my back.

“I—” I choke. I’m not sure how I feel, or what I think.

He edges back, looking at me with concerned eyes. I look in his eyes, tears running down my cheeks.

“This is too much for one day. Let’s get you in bed.” He grabs the bottom hem of my shirt.

“No!” I yell, shoving his hands off me. I’m done feeling sorry for myself, for my life, for everything. “You killed my mother, Landon!” Without thinking, I raise my hand and slap him across the face. Anger, sorrow, and vengeance all being released as my palm stings. His head whips to the side. His jaw ticks as his cheek fumes a red hand print. He slowly slides his gaze back to me, his eyes burning with fury. I swallow the unease forming in the pit of my stomach and point at him with rage. “One day you’re loving and the next I find out you’re a murderer! How do I know you won’t do as your father orders and kill me?” I tilt my head to the side, and glare with all my might. “Tell me how I’m supposed to trust you?” I whisper. “How am I supposed to trust the man who has my mother’s blood on his hands?”

Just as Landon opens his mouth to respond, a loud crash sounds from downstairs. My chest constricts with fear, and Landon’s face hardens. He puts his finger over his lips, silently gesturing for me to be quiet. I nod, my nostrils flaring from my harsh breathing. He slowly walks to the dresser, and carefully pulls open a drawer. He clutches a shiny black gun and I cover my mouth with my hands. How many guns does he have? He points toward the bathroom. I nod and scamper to the bathroom. I peer my head around the doorframe watching as Landon slides up against the wall and peeks around the corner into the hallway. In one swift moment, he vanishes. My stomach sinks not having him in the room with me anymore. What if the intruder comes in here? What if they were sent from Landon’s father? Sweat builds on my forehead as the minutes tick by. The silence is so loud my ears ring, and images of my mother hushing me and urging me to hide wobble in my mind. I clench my eyes as hard as I can to clear the memories, and shake my head. I can’t just stay in the bathroom and hide. I have to do something to help Landon.

“Landon!” I whisper loudly. My hands tremble at the thought of something happening to him.

I tiptoe out of the dark bathroom into the bedroom, I take a step toward the dresser when something catches my eye near the door. I choke with fear. A large person dressed in black from head to toe and pointing a silver gun at me stands right before me. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. This is it, this is the end of my shitty life. I’m going to die. Landon steps behind the intruder, his gun raised and fires. I cover my ears and wince from the loud bang. Blood scatters along the floor and the person falls on his face. I glance from the dead body to Landon, and sag with relief.

“Landon!” I cry, emotion bubbling in my chest that he’s okay. He steps over the body and wraps an arm around my frame hugging me. All the anger and resentment I may have had flees my body. If Landon wanted to hurt me, if he was anything like his father, he would have let me die tonight.

“Are you okay, babe?” He looks me over. His tone’s sincere as he searches my body for injury.

“Yeah, you came just in time,” I whisper. “You—”

“Saved you?” Landon finishes my sentence and raises an eyebrow. “I told you the day I took you back to that hotel room, I wouldn’t hurt you. I meant it.” His tone is dry, and has me swallowing the lump in my throat. “I was sixteen when I killed your mother for Christ’s sake. I was a damn child and did what I thought was right. I saved you.” I stand in awe. Landon has saved me since I was a nine-year-old little girl.