Beautifully Ruined (27 page)

“Could it be Aunt Hil?” Zephyr asks, sitting up to get a better look with me. My room should be dark and empty. I mean, I’m over here. Hilary wouldn’t go into my room, she never does unless I’m in there myself. Neither would Patrick. Something isn’t right.

I don't see Aunt Hil. I see a man. Tall with broad shoulders and a leather jacket. That isn't Patrick. His back is to the window as he leans forward, looking to something on the floor.

Then it hits me.

Oh, shit.

“Oh my God,” I blurt. I tug on my dress and bolt from Zephyr's room, Zephyr right behind me as I burst into my house. “Aunt—” Zephyr's hand clamps over my mouth, stopping me before I scream her name.

“Don't make a sound,” he whispers in my ear. “We don't know who’s here.” He doesn’t but I do.

I nod anyway. I might be wrong.

We take a few steps into the house, looking around the living room. A shoe pokes out from the kitchen, a large black Converse sneaker attached to a leg.

“Patrick,” I say as I see him. The front of his face is covered in blood and bruises. I drop to my knees to check the pulse on his neck. As I press my fingers against his neck, he groans in pain. His pulse is light but he’s still alive. “Zephyr, call the police, now,” I demand as I stand up and head toward the stairs.

Slowly, I walk up the stairs, not sure about what I'll see. I just keep praying that my aunt will be okay. She needs to be okay. She’s all I have left. Nothing can happen to her.

We should have left when we were told. I was stupid. All I thought about was myself and what I wanted—my graduation and more time with Zephyr. I should have thought of Hilary, I should have thought of Patrick. This—whatever’s happened—is my fault.

I can only blame myself.

The light’s on in my room at the end of the hall. Slowly, I walk toward my door, preparing myself for what I’m about to find, kicking it open.

Hilary is lying on the floor in a tangled heap.

“AUNT HIL,” I scream, rushing to her side and falling to my knees. I grab her hands, her sweatshirt, anything I can touch to search for life, and smooth the bloodied hair from her face. “Aunt Hil?” I ask quietly. Despite the blood, she looks peaceful, as if she were already dead.
But she can’t be. She just can’t
. She’s warm to the touch.

I look down, seeing the rise and fall of her chest. I can’t help the joy swelling through me with the knowledge that she’s alive. All she needs is help and Zephyr’s making the call.

“Josie?”

My blood runs cold as the fear creeps in, all remnants of joy quickly washed from my trembling body. I wanted to be wrong but I knew it.

I shouldn't look, but I do. Slowly turning, I spot the man of my nightmares sitting on the edge of my bed looking over us hungrily.

Benjamin.

He looks different from my dreams. His blue eyes are faded and slightly gray, his smile isn't loving, in fact, his mouth is twisted in a horrifying snarl you’d expect on a cartoon character—maybe a Disney villain. His hair is longer and his skin is darker. He’s not my father—he’s only a scary man standing in my room, a man created by nightmares.

“What are you doing here?” I say through clenched teeth.

Benjamin shrugs. “I wanted to see my daughter,” he tells me, taking a step forward.

“You’ve seen me, now go.”

“It’s not that easy, baby girl”—I wish he wouldn’t call me that—“we’re going to be together now, just like we’ve always wanted.”
We?
“I’ve got it all planned out, we can—”

“No, no plans,” I interrupt. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I saw you singing.” Benjamin ignores me. “You’re so beautiful and your voice is so lovely. Come on, sing daddy a song.”

In Hilary's hand is a kitchen knife from the woodblock by the stove. I grab it and hold it out in front of me. “I am
not
afraid to hurt you,” I tell him, watching the blade in my hand shake. I can’t control.

Benjamin laughs. “The way you’re holding that knife says otherwise.

“
I’m not afraid of you!
” I say louder, trying to believe it myself.

“Honey—”

“Don't
call
me that.”

“Josie.”

“Don't call me that, either. My name is Joey.”

“No, it's not. Your name is Josie,” he demands of me. “I don't know why I let your mother name you Josephine. It’s such a stupid name for a little girl. It’s not beautiful, like you.”

“
STOP TALKING!
” I yell. “Just leave. Leave me alone! Stop writing me letters like I give a shit about you. I don't care about you. Do you hear me? You mean
nothing
to me.”

He takes another step forward, his snarl turning to a malicious grin.

I hold the knife higher, prepared to plunge it deep within his heart. “I
will
stab you,” I threaten. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, Josie, baby, didn't they ever teach you not to bring a knife,” he pulls a gun from behind him, “to a gun fight.” My face falls as he points the gun at me. “Now, I'm going to tell you this once, and only once, put the knife down or I’ll shoot Hilary in the head.” He clicks back the safety. “I'll count to three, baby girl.”

“Here.” I throw the knife toward my bed without a second thought. It glides beneath the mattress, completely hidden and out of reach. “Please, just don't hurt her.” I angle my body until I’m covering her. If he’s going to shoot anyone, he’s going to shoot me. She’s spent the past ten years protecting me; I can do the same for her right now.

“That's a good girl,” he whispers, licking his lips. “Come to me, baby girl.”

I shake my head. I’m not leaving her unprotected.

“Josephine Lucas, get over here,” he demands loudly. I jump, startled from the intensity of his tone, before I stand and walk over to him, feeling the tears roll down my cheeks. “Now, was that so hard?” He coos, his fingers shifting through my hair. I shrink away from his touch. He notices and grips the back of my head, tugging me closer to him. He points the gun at Hilary.

“
NO!
” I scream, dodging in front of the gun fully confident he won’t shoot me. He’s traveled so far just to get to me, he wouldn’t hurt me—
I think
. “You said you wouldn't hurt her.”

“I lied.”

I grab his arm, shoving at it with all my might, making him shoot the ceiling. The sound louder than I ever believed, I shriek and bounce back, trying to put distance between me and the gun. Plaster falls around us, showering us like snow.

“Joey!” Zephyr yells as he runs into my room. He stops when he sees the gun in Benjamin’s hand. My heart drops when it turns to him. “What’s going on?” he asks as he stares at the gun. My eyes lock on it, ready to dive before it.

Benjamin looks shocked to see him. “
Who is this?
” He growls, turning to me.

“I’m Zephyr,” Zephyr tells him. “
Her
boyfriend.”

I watch the look fall from Benjamin’s face. His head slowly turns away before his eyes are on me and I can see the hate within them. He doesn’t like the answer and he’s ready to pull the trigger. “You have a boyfriend?” he seethes.

I don’t answer.

“
Answer me, Josephine
.”

“I’m seventeen, why wouldn’t I have a boyfriend,” I reply.

Benjamin barks out a laugh. “Because I don’t
allow
you to date, damn it.” His attention snaps back to Zephyr.

“You can’t hurt him,” I plead. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t,” I repeat, crying, turning into the scared little girl I know he remembers.

“Oh, shut your fucking bitching,” Benjamin says angrily, rolling his eyes. “You haven’t fucking changed, have you.” I recoil with his hateful words, wishing I could run and hide in the back of the closet like I used to do.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Zephyr yells, defending me. He should shut up—this could get him killed.

“Oh, I see you like to talk back.” Benjamin uses his free hand to grab my arm, tugging me next to him. The pain wrenches through me, something popping in my arm. “If you don’t want me to hurt him, baby girl, you should tell him goodbye. You’re never seeing him again, got it?”

Zephyr shakes his head, his anger pushing through. It’s only moments before he explodes. “You’re not going anywhere with her,” He says. He reaches for me but the Benjamin lifts the gun higher, pointing it at his head. I scream loudly, objecting. Zephyr holds up his hands, his face turning to stone.

“Am I not?” Benjamin asks. “She’s
my
daughter.”

“You tried to kill her,” Zephyr replies.

“I wouldn’t have done that had she not called the cops.”

“I’m not even your daughter,” I blurt. Benjamin turns to me, staring at me with eyes of pure hatred. He either wasn’t expecting that or didn’t know. I’m betting on the latter. I smile, feeling as if I have the upper hand. I tug my arm free. “You had to have known that, Benjamin. You’re not
that
stupid, but I could be wrong”—
yeah, Joey, that’s right, insult the man holding the gun
—“You should have known that Mom had an affair. Why? Because she didn’t love you. Why would she, you sick, perverted fuck. She didn’t love you. How could anyone
ever
love you? You’re nothing but a—”

A hard, stinging slap to my cheek shuts me up before I can finish my statement. I step back, stumbling from the hit.

“
Shut the fuck up, you little slut
.”

Whimpering, my hand finds my cheek, rubbing slightly to alleviate the pain of his hit. He only did this once to me, I can only imagine what he did to my mother in all their years of marriage.

I look to Zephyr, trying to catch his attention, but his eyes are stuck on the gun, watching every little tremble of Benjamin’s hand. He’s trying to think of a way to get the gun. He’s trying to think of a way to save us both.

Benjamin’s finger, I can tell, isn’t on the trigger. If I try, I might be able to distract him somehow. The only thing I know to do is—

Zephyr pounces, jumping on Benjamin and wrestling for the gun. They slam hard into my dresser, dropping onto the floor in a heap. I watch the television shuffle forward, sliding closer with every hit they make into the drawers. It’s ready to fall onto Zephyr’s back. That can’t happen. I quickly shove it back, hoping it remains on the dresser.

Zephyr quickly punches Benjamin in the jaw, a loud grunt sounding through the air. He tugs on the gun once, twice, three times before Benjamin shoves him away, slamming him into the nearby wall.

I search my room for the heaviest thing I can lift that I can use as a weapon. The only thing I can see is the television set. But even better is the dresser it’s sitting on—it’s made of oak. The dresser Benjamin is lying in front of. I run toward it and tip it forward, shoving Zephyr out of the way, and watch it fall on top of Benjamin.

The gun goes off, the bullet punching through the wall.

“Zephyr,” I call, running to where he landed near my closet. He’s groaning from the kick to the stomach, his hands clutch his gut. I place my hands on his. I turn toward my aunt, she’s still lying in the center of the room, out cold.

“Isn’t that sweet,” Benjamin growls as he shifts the dresser from his legs. He lifts himself from the floor and dusts himself off, moaning angrily with every movement. “I’ll forget what you did this time, Josie.” Benjamin grabs me by neck and launches me toward the wall farthest from Zephyr. I hit it—and Zephyr’s painting—as I fall to the floor. “Next time, baby girl, I won’t be so nice about it. I can promise you that.”

“Joey,” Zephyr calls, pain lacing his voice. There isn’t much he can do, not with the amount of pain he’s enduring.

“Stand up,” Benjamin tells me, pointing the gun in my direction.

I do as he says, rubbing my bare shoulder. The strap to my dress is dangling in front of me; it ripped during the scuffle.

“You, too,” he demands of Zephyr, the gun now pointing to him.

I watch him struggle to stand. I want to help him—he’s in pain. I move to help him but the sight of Benjamin’s gun stops me.

“Baby girl”—the words make my blood boil—“answer a question for me,” Benjamin demands. “Do you love this boy?” he asks, seething. The man is turning red with anger—a deep, crimson red.

I don't answer.

“
ANSWER ME, JOSEPHINE!
”

“
Yes!
” I scream. “Yes, I love him,” I cry out desperately. “He's my best friend and I love him more than I can describe in words. He’s my life, my light, my world, and you’re
not
taking him away from me.” My body is shaking—everything within me hurts as I watch the gun rise higher.

“Oh, I’m not?” Benjamin asks.

“What type of man are you to even debate that?” I question. “You couldn’t have always been like this. Something must have changed you into this. Just please,” I beg. “Please don’t do any of this. You can leave like nothing ever happened here.”