SCARS

  “Ah, if it isn’t the fucking cock-blocker,” my foster dad says. The two men in front of me laugh. They look as evil as that fucker I have to share a house with. “Let him in, guys. This will be even more fun than I’d imagined.”

  They part to let me through, and when they do, what I’m met with horrifies me. Charlotte is tied to the pool table. Her arms are tied to one end, and her legs are tied to the other. Not only that, but she’s naked and has several small cigarette burn marks on her skin. “Jarrod, please help me,” my sister pleads.

  I instantly run towards her. “You fucking bastard, let her go. What have you done to her?!” I scream. The two men who had let me pass suddenly hold me back by my arms.

  “The boys and I were having a party when your sister decided to come home like the little present that she is. Doesn’t she look good enough to eat?”

  I yank my arms, but they’re held firm. “You let her go, or I swear I will—”

  “Will what? What is it that you can do to me, you little worm of a boy? You’re nothing but fucking scum. Your own father didn’t even fucking want you, and who can blame him? You’re of no use to me, so I may as well get some use out of your sister at least. We do provide a roof over your head after all.”

  I can feel the desperation pouring out of my Charlotte. I need to get to her. I need to help her. “I have a job now. I can pay you anything you want. Just fucking let her go.”

  He wags his finger in front of me in a mocking gesture. All I want to do is cut his fucking dick off. “No can do. You see, no amount of your fucking pitiful amount of money can make up for the months we’ve had to put up with you two. It’s time for payback.” He turns to the men. “Let’s have a little fun, shall we? Take his top off and tie him up. Every time he looks away whip him with your belt and mark that pretty fucking face of his.”

  As the men start to rip my shirt off, Charlotte screams, “No!” and in a rush of adrenaline, I manage to break free and punch the guy to my right. The other guy swings me around and punches me back. I’m out cold.

  I’m not sure how long it is that I’m out, but I wake to freezing cold water being poured over my head. I’m tied up with rope. Both hands are in front of me and fixed to a hook on the floor. I try pulling, but it’s tied much too tightly. I feel a whip on my back, and I scream out. Charlotte screams with me. “Please, Jarrod. Help me, please!”

  “Aww. Aren’t they cute?” One of the other men forces my head up to meet my foster dad’s gaze. “For a moment, we thought you were going to miss the show. I’ve been working up quite the appetite for this one.” I watch in horror as he steps towards Charlotte. She starts screaming as he undoes his belt in front of her. All I can do is pull at my restraints with everything I have. I can’t let them do this to her. I can’t let them strip her innocence away like this.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you all!” I scream. “Leave her alone!” They all laugh, and as one of them holds my sister down, my foster dad steps forward. I know when it happens as I hear the ear-piercing scream from my sister. It is so blood-curdling that I can’t help but look away. The moment I do, I’m whipped. I’m whipped over and over again until I’m forced to look at what that fucker is doing to my sister. Her screams are killing me. With each one, my heart dies a bit more. I am ashamed of myself. I am ashamed that I can’t save the one and only person who means the world to me. She’s screaming at me to help her, save her, and get them off of her, but I’m useless.

  I’m forced to watch as—one by one—they take turns with her. When I look away, they beat me, cut me, and do everything they can to make me watch the insufferable pain my sister is forced to endure. Nothing that they can do to me is worse than what I have to witness, though. Nothing.

  Once they’ve finished, we are both left as we are, bruised, bleeding, and in pain. My sister’s screams have died down to quiet sobs. I don’t know where they all go to, and I don’t care. All I hope is that they never come back. I try to untie the ropes, but all they seem to do is get tighter.

  I sit quietly and watch as the blood from my face slowly drips onto the carpet. I throw up for the third time, but try and calm my breathing for Charlotte’s sake. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  I hear her strangled cry and I fall to the floor. I lie on my side and let the tears flow. For what seems like hours, we quietly sob… Both of us quietly numb ourselves to the pain of what has happened here tonight.

  After a little while, I try again to untie myself, and although I’m in agony, I don’t care. I’m twisting my hands around so tightly to get this rope untied that it’s cutting into my wrists. I breathe through the pain and carry on. We can’t stay here much longer. I need to get my sister to the hospital. I need to get her help.

  I don’t hear my sister anymore, so she’s either sleeping, passed out, or simply being quiet. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. “Charlotte?” I say, trying to get her to talk to me. “Charlotte?” Again, there’s no answer, and that makes me panic further. In a burst of adrenaline, I manage to loosen the knot, but then I hear something. It’s the sound of a door opening and then footsteps. I panic even more as I try to loosen the rope further. Charlotte still isn’t moving or making any noise. I’m frightened for her. I’m frightened because of what’s just happened, and I’m frightened of who might be coming down the stairs and why. As I pull my hand out from one of the knots, I almost scream out with the pain. I have to get out of these before he comes back again. I pull and I yank as hard as I can, and it’s only once my hands are free that I see who it is coming down the stairs.

  I feel nauseous. I don’t want to believe his photo is staring back at me, but it is. How could he have not told me about this?

  “I always hated that picture.” I jump, finding my dad standing in the doorway. I quickly try and hide the letter underneath my keyboard.

  He takes a step in, closes the door behind him, and walks toward my bed. He shakes his head with a smile. “She was my first love. We met in high school and were the typical jock meets princess. Everyone thought we were the perfect couple.”

  I swallow hard and stare at my dad. Fear starts to creep up my insides as I watch his face. He suddenly doesn’t look like the dad I know. “Does Mom know?”

  He looks up at me. “That I was married before with kids?” I nod my head. “No, I couldn’t tell her that. I needed to start fresh with a new family. Wendy died long after we’d split up. She got pregnant on me twice, and both times, she tricked me into thinking she was on protection. As far as I was concerned, they weren’t mine.”

  My heart constricts. “How can you say that about your own kids?”

  “I told her I didn’t want to be a dad so young. She wouldn’t listen to me.”

  I shake my head. “But that’s no reason to abandon your responsibilities.”

  “They went into foster care, Lily. Those kids received much better care in the system than I ever could have provided them with at the time.”

  “How can you know that for sure?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I read in the paper that they were taken into a good home. That was all I needed to know. Besides, by that time, I had already moved on and met your mother for the first time.”

  I frown, trying to think of the dates. “How long ago was this?”

  He smiles at me. “I know why you’re asking, and the answer is no. I’m not your biological father—nor was I Elle’s. Your mother was raising you both when I met her.”

  I feel hot tears surface, but I don’t want to cry. “Why didn’t you or Mom tell us?”

  “I think Elle suspected. She was old enough back then to remember me visiting all the time. After a while, though, she got used to me and started calling me ‘Daddy.’ I was ready to be a father by then. I loved and cared for you both like you were my own.”

  My heart aches for the two who had lost everything. Life seems to be so unfair at times. How is it that they lost both their mother and father, while I alre
ady had a mother and then gained a father? The injustice of it all doesn’t make any sense. “Have you looked for them?” I had to ask. If he has truly loved Elle and me, then surely he must hold regrets regarding his biological children.

  “No. There really was no need to open old wounds. If they were happy and so was I, then why change that?”

  None of this makes any sense. Sitting before me isn’t the father I have always known and loved. He seems like a monster to me now. “How could you, Dad? How could you just flippantly discard them like that and say that it’s okay?” I see anger flash in his eyes, and it makes me recoil.

  “I loved you, didn’t I? Can you say you never got the best from me? As far as you are concerned, I am you father, and I’ll always be your father.”

  I wiped a tear away in frustration. “It’s not about me, though, is it? It’s about the two you left behind.”

  He sighs, gets up, and starts pacing. “Will you stop bringing them up? Why can’t you just be happy that you had me? That you always had me? I knew you were special when I met you. It was you who brought me into the family. You were so small, so sweet, and so … innocent. Elle was a little more difficult, but you… You took my hand the first day I met you. You looked up to me with those baby brown eyes of yours and gave me the most beautiful, trusting smile. How could I not have fallen in love with you?”

  I shook my head. “Please, stop. Why are you doing this?”

  He spins around, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why are you thinking of them, huh? Why can’t you just concentrate on you? Me and you—that’s all there needs to be.”

  What? Why is he saying this? Why didn’t he mention Mom or Elle?!

  The fear of knowing what could be the truth burns my insides so badly that I want to be sick. I know I have to ask. “Did you ever love Mom?” He stands, staring at me for a moment before sighing and sitting down again. Sitting down is good. When he’s sitting, he’s not towering over me like a lion.

  “I think I was in love with the idea of love. I could lie to you, Lily, but I think we’ve gone beyond that, don’t you?” He looks at me menacingly like I know something he knows. The fear creeps back up my spine again. Never have I ever been frightened in the presence of my father until now.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He sighs again. “I think you know.” I’m confused, so I shake my head. My father—or the man who I thought was my father—looks like he’s exasperated with me. “Where were you all this time? Who was keeping you?” My eyes go wide, and that is my first mistake. Of course, he notices. “Ah, so someone was keeping you. I thought so. And what lies did he tell you?”

  I frown in confusion.

  How does he know about J? What does he think he could have told me? What is he afraid I know?

  “I don’t understand. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My father gets up, and in a fit of rage, grabs a picture frame of us all from Montana last year and throws it to the ground. My heart constricts. How can he be so callous?

  “Stop fucking lying to me!” he shouts. I cower at the sheer evil pouring from his eyes. This isn’t my dad. He isn’t the one who brought me up and cared for me. Who is this evil monster standing in front of me?

  “Tell me where you were.” When I don’t answer immediately, he stalks over to me and grabs my shoulders. “Tell me!” He grips hard, making me cry out.

  “Dad, please, you’re hurting me.” I feel hot tears streaming down my face. For the first time in my whole life, I feel real fear, and it’s not because of a stranger. It’s not fear of my stalker. It’s fear of my own father—one of two people in the world meant to care for me, love me, and protect me from harm.

  He stares into my eyes, and I see them turn from those evil, dark eyes back into their normal, soft glow that I know and love. “I’m sorry.” He releases his grip, but stays crouched in front of me. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.” My eyes widen in surprise when he lays his head on my knees and wraps his arms around my waist. I’m frozen. I don’t know what to do. Every fiber of my being wants to run and flee for my life, but I know I can’t go anywhere because I intuitively know he won’t let me. I battle in my mind about what I should say or do. He’s like a broken man in front of me—a dangerous man, but a broken one nevertheless.

  I battle for a few more seconds, wondering what to do next. I need him to be calm, so I can try to get away somehow. I don’t know how he’s going to react to anything I say or do. This is beyond frightening. It’s terrifying!

  My trembling hand hovers above his head. I sniffle, trying to stop my tears and slow my erratic heartbeat.

  So, I give him the one thing I feel he is seeking, and I offer comfort. I place my trembling hand down on his head and stroke his hair. He squeezes me more tightly as if accepting my consolation. I feel nausea burning my throat as the confusion of all that is happening settles within me.

  I don’t know how long we stay like that, but it seems like forever. Eventually, he pulls his head up and his teary eyes meet mine. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?” I ask softly. I want to know, but I don’t want to piss him off either.

  He searches my eyes for a moment and the softness that was once there is diminishing. “Where have you been, and why were you searching for me on the internet?”

  I swallow hard. My throat is suddenly burning from fear. “I … I …”

  He grips my hips and squeezes. “Tell me, Lily. You know things, and you’re not telling me.”

  I grip the sides of my desk chair until my knuckles turn white, and my eyes blur from the constant tears. I have no other choice but to tell him now. If I try and wriggle out of this, he will know I am lying. I have no other explanation for what I was doing other than the truth.

  As I struggle with what to say, I notice my dad looking past me and onto my desk. I turn my head to see what he’s looking at when I see J’s letter poking out from under the keyboard. My heart accelerates even more when I see him get up. “What’s this?” he asks, as he whips the letter from underneath it and starts reading. At first, I see shock register in his eyes, but then the anger comes again. My father seems to be able to switch emotions quicker than I can keep up. Finally, once he finishes, he looks at me. “So, the one who took you was my son. He’s certainly not the sort of man I would have chosen for my Lily.”

  I stare up at him wide-eyed. “How can you say that?”

  He shakes the letter in front of me. “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were smarter than this. Your mother and I would never have allowed this relationship.”

  “He said you would say that.”

  He stares, eyes blazing. “So he has talked to you about me.”

  I shake my head. “No. He never mentioned you at all, other than to say that you would disagree with our relationship.”

  “Fucking right I would have!” he roars. He suddenly walks towards me and crouches down in front of me again. I recoil, thinking he’s going to hurt me.

  “Stop pulling away from me.” I stiffen, not knowing what to do. I feel glued to this chair. I can’t seem to move, breathe … anything. “Tell me what else he told you. You were with him for almost three weeks. Tell me what he said and what he did to you. Did he touch you?”

  My eyes widen. “It wasn’t like that. He… He was kind, gentle. He took care of me. He nursed the gash on my leg.” He looks down to my leg and picks it up with his hand. My breathing hitches as he traces a long line from the top to the bottom.

  “What else happened while you were with him?” He places my leg down and looks up at me expectantly.

  “Nothing,” I answer with a shaky voice. “We just talked a lot. I was healing from the accident, and he took care of me. As soon as I was well again, I left.”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re lying to me.”

  I start shaking. “I’m not. I—”

  “Stop fucking lying to me!?
?? He bangs his hand on my desk, making me jump.

  “Dad, you’re scaring me.” I grip the sides of my chair again as my breathing becomes even more erratic. I feel like I’m having a panic attack. Suddenly, all the air in the room feels like it’s been sucked out.

  “I’m sorry.” He places his hands in front of me in a calming gesture. I’m anything but calm. “Do you love this boy?”

  “Yes,” I answer without hesitation.

  “Do you love me? Do you love your mother?”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Yes, of course. How can you ask me—”

  “Then, you must choose. It’s either him or us.”

  I’m rooted again in shock. I can’t understand why he’s doing this to me. How can someone who claims to love me make me choose between my parents and the man who has stolen my heart as much he says I’ve stolen his? I don’t want to answer his question, but I know I need to answer, and I need to give him the right answer.

  “Lily, you have to choose him or your mother and me. You want your mother to be safe, don’t you?”

  I snap my eyes to his. Why is he saying that? “Of course I do.”

  “Then, it should be an easy choice. You either pick him, or you will never see me or your mother again. What will it be?”

  “You and Mom. Of course, it’s you and Mom.”

  He takes my hand, still crouching in front of me. “Good. That’s all I need to know.” He gets up, kisses the top of my head, and walks towards the door. “Get packed. We’re leaving.”

  With shaky hands I get up, panicking. “Where? Where are we going? What about Mom?”

  “We’re going to start fresh somewhere new. I have some money, and we can start over. We can be father and daughter again … just like it used to be.”

  “What about Mom?” I croak.