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But another part of me, the part of me that had taken control the day he’d choked me, the part of me that Creed had helped flourish and nourish all this time, told me he was the one who was wrong, not me.
Him, not me. It had never been me. All my life, it’d always been him, and I’d just been unlucky to have him as a father.
Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so bad if my stepmom hadn’t died. Maybe, if she had lived and Creed had stuck around, he wouldn’t be so bad.
Those were what-ifs, though, and there was no point now in giving any energy to them.
I turned away from the door, moving to sit on my bed as I gazed around my room. It looked untouched, exactly the same as I’d left it, not a thing out of place. Small compared to the room I’d gotten used to at Creed’s place, but it had served as my safe spot for so long. This room was where I’d come when I had nowhere else to go. It was here, in this room, that I let myself wonder what it’d be like to have a loving dad, a mom who was still alive, a normal family.
I used to want those things. I used to dream of them, used to look at my peers with jealousy in my heart because they had things I would never have. I used to think everyone else was normal but me—but that’s the thing, isn’t it? Everyone had their own trauma. Some hid it better than others. Some people had it worse.
But, when you got down to it, we were all people. We were all fucked up individuals, in one way or another. That was the curse of living. The only perfect people were dead, because when you died, people remembered you with rose-colored glasses.
My hands fiddled on my lap, and it was then I remembered something.My phone. My dad had taken my bag away, but my phone sat in my back pocket—and I could use that phone to contact Creed.
The old me, the me that had let my dad take me, stepped aside and let the new me take over. I pulled out my phone and saw numerous missed calls and texts, all from Creed. My guess was the doorman had contacted Creed after seeing my dad take me. If I had to bet, I’d say he was already on his way here.
And knowing that gave me strength.
It really did mean the world to have someone else in my corner, to know I wasn’t alone in this world anymore. It gave me a strength I never thought I’d have.
I dialed Creed’s number, and he answered immediately: “Taylor, I’m coming.” Hearing that, relief flooded me, and I fought a smile—I fought it because now wasn’t the time to smile.
“I’m at the house,” I said. “I’m sorry, I—”
Creed’s deep voice interrupted me, “Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to apologize for, do you understand? Nothing. Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?”
“I’m fine,” I spoke, swallowing. “How long until you get here?”
“I’m five minutes away. Where are you?”
“In my old room.”
“Wait there. Don’t do anything until I get there.” His tone was commanding, even through the phone. There would be no disobeying a voice like that.
“Okay.”
“Stay on the phone with me. If you hear your dad coming back, put the phone down, but leave it on. I want to hear everything that asshole says to you.” He gave instructions like he was used to giving them, and I supposed he was. Being in charge came naturally to him.
I nodded, but then I realized he couldn’t see me nod, so I whispered, “Okay.” It felt like the wordokaywas all I could say right now, still speechless at this whole turn of events. If you would’ve asked me if I thought my dad was capable of kidnapping me, I would’ve told you no, that he wouldn’t go that far… but here I was.
I should’ve known he would try something after he showed up on campus. I still wasn’t sure how he’d figured out my schedule, if he managed to smooth-talk someone in the scheduling office or what. It didn’t matter much anymore.
Creed didn’t say anything after that, and neither did I. We were both silent, save for our breathing, and frankly, the simple act of hearing his steady breathing on the other line calmed me. I knew he was probably struggling to remain calm—I knew how Creed could flip on someone—but hearing him be outwardly calm helped me to soothe my nerves.
Creed had told me not to move, to stay in my room, and I was going to—but a part of me wanted to confront my dad, to ask him if he really thought we could go back to the way things had been before. If he thought we could press rewind and return to the days when I was his meek daughter, accepting whatever harsh words he threw my way, accepting his abuse like it was nothing, he was an idiot.
Once a paper was torn, you couldn’t put it back together. With tape, sure, but it’d never be the same again. The same could be said of me. I was the paper, and Creed had helped to tear me up, tearing me away from my dad in the process, and regardless of how hard my dad tried to tape me back together in the shape of the daughter he wanted, it would never happen.
I’d moved on, and he should, too.
Waiting for Creed, time moved even slower. The seconds felt like hours, and I swore, an entire lifetime passed. It must’ve been the anticipation; I could feel it building in my veins. I couldn’t wait for Creed to get here, for him to come barging into this house.
I never considered myself a damsel in distress, but after everything I’d gone through, was it so awful to want someone to save me? Was it really so bad to want someone to protect me when, my whole life, the one person that should’ve protected me had done nothing of the sort?
Eventually, I heard my dad coming up the steps, and I lowered the phone down to the bed, setting it atop the sheets, keeping it beside my right thigh, where my dad wouldn’t see it. He barged into my room, fuming.
“What the fuck, Taylor?” He practically spat at me, reaching for me and pulling me to my feet. “You brought him here? He’s got no right to be here anymore! He left us! Don’t you remember? He left us and he never looked back!” His hands were on my shoulders, and he shook me with every sentence he spoke.
