Coffee with Mr. Casey

13 - Only the Beginning

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Lola

The cricket’s chirps were deafening as I walked the block to get to my house. I couldn’t even hear myself think it was so bad. My arms were folded tightly against my chest as if I was freezing, but the air was hot and humid just like any other southern spring night. I didn’t enjoy the feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing I was probably about to walk into some serious danger. The only thing I could be the least bit thankful about was that I’d kept the promise that I made to myself: I wouldn’t speak of that morning for the rest of my life.  

My father had hurt me worse than any blow to the face ever could. Even after downing all that vodka, I could still taste the metal from the barrel. The horrifying image of him shoving the pistol into my mouth sprung sudden pangs through my torso. I remember screaming and crying for him to stop, but it had only made him angrier. He pulled the trigger so easily as if he had done it a million times before. Even after realizing there weren’t any bullets inside the gun, his ice-cold eyes had showed no remorse for what he’d done. His intentions had been to kill me. The first man I ever loved wanted me dead.

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand as I shivered with fear. I wondered why I would ever come back to the god-forsaken place. It seemed like getting my things wasn’t enough to put myself at risk, but I didn’t plan on ever coming back after this. I wanted him to wake up and see that all my stuff was gone. I wanted him to know that he was never going to see me again. 

As I slowly emerged upon my overgrown lawn, I turned my head to make sure that Johnny’s car was still parked on the side of the road, waiting for me. He knew I was scared, but he would never know exactly what I was scared of. I wanted to run back and forget the whole thing. If my dad caught me sneaking in, something terrible would happen to me. And I couldn’t forget that Johnny said he wouldn’t hesitate to come and get me if I wasn’t back within ten minutes. If that were the case, something terrible would happen to him too.

I stared long and hard at the silver Honda before I mustered up the courage and went straight for my bedroom window. My first task was the trickiest; I had to use the little bit of fingernails I had to pry the screen off. I started to pull at the top corners and after a few tries, I was able to get the top left corner loose with just a click. I easily worked my way through the other three corners and quietly sat the screen against the wall.

The window was the simplest part, especially when I never locked it. Luckily, it was just low enough for me to pull myself inside, and land on the bed. It barely made a squeak as I slid off and my heart jumped knowing that was enough to wake the raging alcoholic up.  I waited to hear stomping, but it never came. Whether I had woken someone up or not, I knew I had to move fast.

Without thinking twice, I headed to my closet and started pulling outfits off the hangers. I didn’t care to take a look at them before stuffing them in my backpack. Immediately I thought about all the things I was going to need, like shower stuff and underwear. My shower bag hung from the closet doorknob; I grabbed that, hoisting it over one shoulder. I headed towards my dresser and pulled all necessities from the drawers as quietly as I could and pushed them into what little room I had left in the backpack.

Even though there weren’t any signs of anyone coming, I still couldn’t keep my calm knowing that the monster was inside the house. For all I knew, he could have been against the door, or under the bed. I just had to trust that he wasn’t and get out of there before anything could happen.  

Deciding not to take more time than I had to, I crawled on the bed, ready to jump back out of the window, but a single, gentile knock on the door stopped me from doing anything. There was no chance of me jumping out in time. The doorknob was already turning. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that I’d disappear or something.