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Chapter 4 - Second Time's the Charm

“Hey!” she heard John bellow and she froze in her steps.

“You do not slam my door like that.”

“Your door?” Lucy retorted. “Last time I checked, this was my father’s house.”

“Lucy!”

Rita came storming through the door. She had gotten so red with rage, it looked like she was going to erupt. Lucy knew the next sentence that would come out from her mother’s mouth was a demand for an apology, so she immediately turned to face the stairs. But just before she turned around fully, she caught a glimpse of a smirk, lingering on John’s face.

Lucy bit her lower lip. Even with the thick bandage wrapped round his head, he could still smile. She had not done enough damage, and the thought of that made her blood boil. She felt like she’d gone off to jail for nothing.

“Lucy, get back here,” Rita demanded as Lucy stormed up the stairs.

Lucy didn’t listen. She ran up the stairs without looking back, and stormed to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Lucy sank into her bed. She needed a happy place, but she had none.

Her best friend, Joyce, also got into a lot of squabbles with her mother and when things got too hot, Joyce would always run off to her father’s house. That was her happy place because her father was as genial as one could get. Many times, her mother had to beg her to return.

But Lucy didn’t such luxury. Her room was the only place she could go. She had no relatives, no grandparents to run to. She felt like a burden anytime she went over to Joyce’s place, so she refused to go there as often as she’d have liked.

“I guess this is my reality,” she mumbled before slumping on the bed.

As she stared at the ceiling, thoughts swirled in her head. In two days, things had turned upside down. If Lacy had minded her business like she normally did and stayed out of their mom’s fight, Lucy wouldn’t have had any reason to smack John’s head.

Lucy smiled at the image of the hard smash. Now that John was safe, and as irritating as before, she found the humor in her actions. But it still hurt that her mother expected her to apologize to the man. Nothing about it made any sense. Rita acted like she was under a spell.

Lucy rolled onto her stomach and dragged her phone out of her pocket. After flicking mindlessly on the screen for a few seconds, the thought of calling Joyce crossed her mind, and as much as Lucy wanted to shake it off, she couldn’t. In their group of three friends, Joyce was one to talk, Martell – their other friend – was one to listen, and she was the one in the group that observed. That’s why their friendship had blossomed and lasted for so long, because their different personalities balanced each other out.

But Lucy was desperate to talk to someone, and she wasn’t sure this was the kind of thing she’d like to talk to Martell about, so Joyce would just have to do. She sighed and dialed her friend’s number. It didn’t even ring for three seconds before Joyce picked up the phone.

“I was just thinking of calling you,” Joyce shrieked into the phone. “Oh, my God! It’s like you have telepathy or something.”

“Hey, Joyce. Sorry I couldn’t return calls yesterday. Actually, the craziest thing happened to me–”

“Girl, it cannot be as crazy as what is going on in my life! I swear, I’m about to cry,” Joyce gushed.

“It’s not a competition. But when I tell you what I had to go through yesterday, I assure you that nothing you’re experiencing comes close.”

“Lucy, Jake is cheating on me,” Joyce whined. And just like that, Joyce went from excited to teary. She sounded like she was already sobbing. “Like, are you serious? I gave you a chance and you go around messing with other girls behind my back.”

Lucy paused and squinted her eyes.

“Joyce, you and Jake weren’t dating…” she blurted.

“It wasn’t official, I know! But then, we started talking at the beginning of the year. I had an off night, he hit me up and–”

Lucy massaged her temple with her left hand. She knew it was over the minute she said something to follow up the conversation. Deep down, she’d known it was a terrible idea to try using Joyce as a sounding board. Joyce was a speaker, she did the sounding.

“Joyce, come on…” Lucy muttered in a half sigh. She was already tired of the conversation and she hadn’t been listening. “I am really not in the mood for your relationship drama right now.”

“My relationship drama?” Joyce sobbed. “How can you say that, Lucy?”

“Oh gosh,” Lucy muttered, sitting up. “Joyce, I didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it. I just have a lot going on too and I don’t think I’m the right person to talk to about something like this, okay?”

Joyce began to cry. She wailed into the phone, asking a hundred questions at a time. It wasn’t a strange occurrence for Lucy, so she just sat there and waited for her to finish. Joyce loved throwing tantrums.

“So, I confronted him about it,” Joyce continued. “And this dude had the effrontery… the audacity to tell me that we weren’t that serious. I sent him pictures of me every single day. How could he do such a thing?”

“What a terrible person,” Lucy answered blithely. The only way she could handle the situation was to take Joyce’s side. That way, the conversation ended soon.

“Right?” Joyce yelled. “What an asshole. To think that I was only doing him a favor by talking to him. I hate men.”

“Well, at least you still have Luke.”

“Luke’s not my boyfriend, Lucy. How many times do I gotta explain that? He isn’t boyfriend material.” She sniffed. “But there’s this other guy, Eric.”

Lucy bit back a groan. “Eric?”

“I’ve been talking to him too, and I really think–”

“Do what makes you happy, Joyce,” Lucy cut in. If she had to endure the conversation any longer, she was afraid Joyce would notice that she was uninterested.

“Really?”

“Yes, babe. Do you. Go for whatever makes you happy. You deserve to be happy, and I don’t like to see you cry. Just go for it. Whatever it is that you feel is right, do it. You are the smartest person I know, capable of making good decisions.”

“Aww, Lucy. Thank you.” Joyce giggled. “I am pretty smart.”

“Very,” Lucy responded. “I gotta go. Lacy needs my help with the vacuum cleaner.”

Lucy didn’t wait for her reply before hanging up the phone and sighing in relief. She could have easily cut Joyce off and told her what she had called to say, but she didn’t think Joyce was in the right frame of mind to discuss something like that.

Just then, there was a knock on her door. Her first guess was Lacy. She was probably bored, and wanted someone to talk to, or Rita sent her to talk Lucy into apologizing to John. Whatever it was that Lacy wanted, Lucy was not in the mood for it.

Lucy dragged herself to her feet and trudged to the door. It was an unconscious habit to look through her peephole, and when she did, she froze. It wasn’t Lacy. The bulky figure hinted that it was John standing outside her room. Lucy took two steps back, holding a perplexed frown on her face. John had never knocked on her door before, talk less of coming into her room. Was he looking for an apology?

Lucy scoffed as she twisted the doorknob. If an apology was what he was searching for, then she sure was not giving it to him. Even though a voice in her head reminded her that it was a bad idea letting John into her room, seeing that he could still be holding grudges, Lucy did it anyway. Her curiosity and ego stood in the way of her hiding from him.

“What do you want?” she asked rudely, holding the door open.

John smirked and brushed past her into the room. He took slow steps and his eyes skittered like a thief’s, examining her space, subtly looking for faults. When he got to her dresser, he stopped and stared into the mirror.

“You see what you did to my head, you little twat?” John rasped. “You see what you did?”

Lucy didn’t respond. She crossed her arms and stood by the open door, watching him scornfully.

“I believe you owe me a deep… sincere apology,’ John continued.

“For what?” Lucy retorted. “I’ll apologize after you apologize to my little sister and leave our house. Till then I will laugh every single time I remember what I did to your head and feel very proud of myself. It’s the first time I’ve hit someone with a bat, and honestly, I would love a redo. You’re still standing. That’s disappointing.”

“You think you’re so smart. So confident. Wait till I clip those wings,” John retorted, turning on his heels and carefully approaching her.

“I’m not my mother. You can’t hit me and get away with it. If you as much as lay a finger on me, I will report you to the cops for abuse and make sure you’re put in jail. At least then, I’ll be a victim and the cops will finally listen to me.”

“The cops will finally listen to you?” John mocked her, chuckling. “Oh, little girl. You’d be lucky if you could walk to the station.”

Lucy’s breath stuttered, but she stood her ground.

“Are you threatening me? Because I feel like that’s a threat. Mind if I whip out my phone, hit record so you can say that again for me?”

“You’re a child, so it’s only ideal that you act like one. Stay away from my wife and I. This injury you caused me, I’m gonna pay it back if you keep stepping on my toes.”

“Your wife?” Lucy said, forcing down the fear she was feeling. “You mean your punching bag?”

John’s face reddened and as he took quick steps towards her, Lucy recoiled quickly. But he was faster and in a matter of seconds, John had his fingers wrapped around Lucy’s neck. He pinned her to the wall with it and glared at her, grinding his teeth as he growled.

“Listen here, you bitch–”

“You need to press harder for maximum impact,” Lucy forced out, pushing his buttons.

Her heartbeat had increased rapidly, and Lucy could feel the adrenaline pumping, but she maintained eye contact. Oxygen was rapidly getting used up, but Lucy made sure to hide her distress from him.

John obliged her. He tightened his grip on her neck and squeezed tighter, grunting with effort as he did. Lucy simultaneously tightened her grip on his hand. As much as she wanted to beg for her life, she kept her mouth shut. There was no way John would go through with it. But it sure felt like it. Her arms were getting weaker, her hold had loosened. Only her stubbornness kept her legs from kicking out in a struggle.

He isn’t going to kill me. He can’t be serious.

But she was dying, and she knew it.

“John! What are you doing?” Rita shrieked, entering the room. “You just got back from the hospital and you’re already letting Lucy get to you. Let her go.”

John immediately let go of Lucy’s neck and staggered back. He brought both hands to his head, groaning in pain.

“You’re lucky I’m not in perfect condition,” he rasped, pointing at Lucy. “Watch that damn mouth of yours.”

Lucy fell to the ground, gasping for breath. She stared at the bat underneath her bed and was contemplating all of her life choices. If she picked the bat and hit John till his brain was nothing but goo, she’d go to prison for murder, but it would be worth it. She was sure that for every day she spent in jail, she’d be smiling knowing John couldn’t abuse anyone any more. Or she could wait for the police, or better still, stay away from all the drama and find her own path in life.

John walked past her and brushed Rita on the shoulders before exiting the room.

“I ask you to apologize, and you pick a fight?” was the first question that came out of Rita’s mouth. “What is the matter with you?”

Lucy glared at her, massaging her neck with her palm. “You realize it’s me who’s sitting on the floor, right? I am the one gasping for air because your husband was squeezing the life out of me and this is the first thing that you say?”

“If you had just–”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Lucy cut her off, dragging herself to her feet. “Please, leave my room.”

Rita folded her arms. “Your stubbornness might get you into trouble one day, and I will not be there to save you.”

“Well, at least I’m not a pushover like my own mother,” Lucy said, fighting back the tears. She desperately wanted to cry, but the last thing she wanted was for Rita to see her doing it. Lucy needed her out of her room before she broke down.

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Rita cautioned.

“Can you just leave please?” Luck asked, her lips quivering. “I’m really not in the mood for a lecture from you. Go to your husband and check if his head is okay or something. I don’t care. I just want to be alone.”

Rita stood there for a few seconds before leaving. Once Lucy saw the door closed, she crashed on the bed and buried her head into the pillow. Lucy hated to admit that she was scared. She just turned eighteen and life was already kicking her in the balls, even when she literally had none. There was no one to talk to, nowhere to go, and even the place she called home was starting to feel like a strange, dangerous place.

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