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“If you don’t stay the night.”
I scoffed and playfully swatted at Michael. Then I shoved myself out of his SUV. He wished me luck and I closed my door, grinning at him through the window.
And just as I turned around, the front door burst open.
“Clint!”
I looked on in horror as the man I loved fell to his back on the porch. I heard a door open in the distance as the world around me tunneled. All I saw was Clint lying on his back, blood dripping down his face. Flashes of him lying at the bottom of that ravine bombarded my mind. Until I heard that fucking voice.
“Get up and fight me like the man you think you are!”
His father.
I watched in slow motion as Cecilia rushed out onto the porch. She was missing a shoe. Her hair was disheveled. Her dress had been ripped off her shoulder and she looked as if she’d been crying for hours. I saw her drop to the porch beside Clint. I stood there, frozen, as Clint’s father appeared in the doorway. His fists were balled up. He had blood splattered all over his face. His eye was swollen shut. His lip, split. He had the fire of Satan in his eyes.
And I watched as Cecilia helped Clint back up onto his feet.
Michael stepped up beside me. “Hey!”
I jumped at the sound of his voice. Because I had no fucking clue when he’d gotten out of the car. Time toppled over on itself. I watched Michael push away from my side, sprinting for the porch. I followed behind him, finally pulled out of my trance. The world moved in regular motion again as the smell of blood, sweat, and tears filled the space around me. Michael moved behind Clint, steadying him as he stumbled back. And while Cecilia smoothed her hands over his chest, I reached up to cup Clint’s cheek, pulling his eyes to mine.
“Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
“You won’t get out of this another time, son.”
His father reached between all of us, ripping him away from our grasps. I lunged for him, trying to get him back as Michael held me around my waist. Cecilia screamed for him to stop. Screamed at his father for him to let Clint go. I reached out for him, kicking and trying to get out of Michael’s grasp.
But if he wouldn't let me use my body, I sure as hell would use my words.
“Let him go!”
My shrieking voice filled the night as Clint’s father held him tightly by the collar of his shirt.
“Let him go, you coward! I’m tired of you hurting him. Abusing him. Beating him to a pulp. You’re the sorriest excuse for a father I’ve ever seen in my life, and mine left me when I was just a little girl!”
Michael put his lips to my ear. “Calm down. He’s going to hurt you. He’s drunk. I can smell it. Calm your voice, Rae.”
But I didn’t listen. “He’s still recovering from the crash, you piece of shit. I’m going to call the police and have you thrown in prison to rot!”
The sounds of his father laughing at me fell against my ear. As Michael settled me back down onto my feet, he strengthened his grip around my waist. I reached out for Clint. I watched as his father’s eyes fell onto his son. Cecilia cried in the background, slumped against the front door as that man drew his fist back. I reached my hand out, screaming with all my might. My fingertips wiggled for the back of Clint’s shirt, so I could pull him out of the line of fire of his father’s fight-ending punch.
Then, Clint brought his knee up, nailing his father straight in his groin and taking him to the ground.
The world fell silent as he growled out in pain. Cecilia’s cries stopped. Michael’s grip loosened. And my shrieking ceased. I watched as blood dripped down Clint’s face. His neck. Soaking his shirt as it poured from his nose, which I knew his father had rebroken. Clint stood there in front of his father, letting his blood drip onto the top of his damn head. And once his father looked up, Clint sighed.
“You really are a piece of work, Dad.”
Then, Clint struck his father with a blow of his knee that knocked the man out cold.
Everything fell silent. Everything stood still. Time itself yielded to what had just happened. Clint’s father fell face-first onto the porch. Passed out in his own alcohol-laden drool. And as Michael released me from his grasp, I scurried to Clint’s side, gripping his arms and slowly turning him toward me as shock and anger rolled over his features.
“Baby, can you hear me?”
I rubbed my hands up and down his arms, trying to pull him out of his trance. I heard Cecilia gasp for air, as if she’d been holding her breath. I heard her walk out onto the porch, dropping to her knees next to his father. I watched his eyes dart around. He slowly came to as he tried to get a bearing on his surroundings. He looked at me. At Michael. At his father, lying on the porch. He brought his hand up to his nose before he winced, with tears streaming down his face.
“Baby, talk to me. Can you hear me?”
He shook his head. He stumbled back away from me, holding his hand out. I tried to get to him, but he stopped me. I tried to reach out for him, but he wouldn't let me wrap him up like I had planned. He wouldn't let me pull him close, like I had planned. The words danced on the tip of my tongue. The words I knew he needed to hear.
