How to Save a Life(52)

“I’m right here,” he replied, covering my hand with his. “And I’ll be waiting.”





Lee was home

My stomach lurched, twisted into knots to see his car in the driveway. He was supposed to be at the diner, closing out the day so his mother didn’t have to work another double shift. Instead, he was here.

Shit.

The house reeked of chemicals and butane and death. From the door I could see Lee at the kitchen table, cooking up a batch of meth.

I started to sneak upstairs thinking maybe I could snatch a few things, and sneak back out. He’d never know I’d been there.

“Jo?”

His voice, calling from the kitchen, froze me to the spot.

“Hey,” I called. “Gotta pee. Bad. Be right down.”

I hurried up the stairs, heart pounding. I dug frantically in the bedroom closet for the small duffel bag I kept there. I tossed in a few pairs of underwear, t-shirts, shorts, a pair of cargo pants and Evan’s black-and-blue plaid shirt. No f*cking way I was leaving the house without it.

Bag packed, a sudden, sharp instinct warned me to put it all back. To keep things just as they were.

No! It’s time. Evan’s waiting.

I pushed the fear aside and took the bag into the bathroom. I threw a bunch of stuff inside: toothbrush, deodorant, my birth control pills. The fear loosened its hold, replaced by determination. I was doing this.

I headed down the stairs with the intent on just running out the front door and never looking back. I stopped short three from the bottom and gave a little cry.

“Where you goin’?”

My skin broke out in gooseflesh and my heart thudded in cadence to that old fearful beat to see Lee standing in the entry, his eyes red-rimmed and flinty as they darted from the bag in my hand to me and back.

“I’m leaving,” I said. I hated how choked with fear my voice sounded. I cleared my throat and said louder, “I’m leaving you, Lee.”

I expected rage. My hands clenched the handles of the bag ready to swing. Ready to fight and claw my past him if I had to. Evan was waiting for me. Escape. The time to let the fear run me was over.

Lee just chuckled, his feet danced from side to side, and his fingers twitched.

Then balled into fists.

“Don’t test me woman. I’m hungry. Get your ass in there and make me dinner.”

I drew myself up. “No. I’m leaving. I mean it. It’s over.”

“Oh shut up,” he drawled, annoyed. “Knock that stupid shit off. You’re not going anywhere. Nothing is over. I’m hungry. Now get in that kitchen and make me some f*cking dinner.”

I fought for calm; assessed the situation. My way to the front door was blocked, and even if the drugs had sucked away a lot of his bulk, Lee was a lot bigger than me. I couldn’t fight my way past him no matter how badly I wanted to.

Plan B. Wait for a chance and run like hell.

I dropped duffel bag on the stairs, pretending to be defeated, and hung my head so that my hair over my face. “Yeah okay,” I said dully. “I’m sorry, Lee. I’ll make you dinner.”

I started to walk past Lee, to hook around to the right towards the kitchen when his hand lunged like a striking snake. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me to him. His breath smelled like gasoline, and his eyes were watery, hate coursing along their red veins, as he thrust his face into mine. Whatever goodness Lee had when I first met him—and there hadn’t been a whole lot—was eaten away.

“You never learn, do you?” he seethed. “You don’t leave. You don’t even think about it. Remember what happened last time?”

“I r-remember it wasn’t always like this...” I said, my voice shaking with terror, my breath coming in harsh gasps. “Why do you want me around? Y-you don’t even like me anymore. Just let me go.”

His face screwed up in confusion. “I don’t like you? I’m trying to help you, you ungrateful bitch. Do you remember what you were when I met you? A f*cking wretch, that’s what. You can’t make it five minutes on your own without me. The way I see it, you owe me. The very least you can do, Josephine, is make my goddamn dinner.”

Lee dragged me by the hair towards the kitchen. I stumbled and nearly fell trying to keep up. Pain burned my scalp and shot down my spine, zinging up over the crown of my head and deep in my neck as he slammed the side of my face against the refrigerator.

“This is where you get my food from.”

I let out a cry as he swung me from the refrigerator and jammed my face against the vent hood over the stove.

“And this is where you cook my food.” He held me over the dirty pots and pans, and the heavy iron skillet I’d used to make his fried chicken the night before. He gave my head a jerk. “You got that?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, panting through my nose as I tried to hold back the cries. A scream escaped as Lee yanked me to the dirty yellow linoleum floor. His boot buried itself in my gut like a cannonball. I curled up tight as all the air in the world whooshed out of me.

Lee’s face swam before my vision as he knelt down. “Now look what you made me do, Jo. Look what happens when you try to leave me…”

His hand brushed the hair from my cheek, exposing my scar. “Ungrateful bitch.” His hand squeezed. My scalp burned. He raised my head up and slammed it down onto that dingy floor.