Fighting the Fall ✔

Chapter Sixteen

"McKenna, Bishop," I whispered. Once I caught their attention, I nodded toward the second floor. "Come with me."

They listened, but Bishop stared at the closed door of our father's bedroom as he passed by. He released the air he was holding once he made it to the steps.

They followed me into my room and sat on my bed while I gathered a change of clothes for after I showered. Boxing was the number one way to release my frustrations. Showering was the second best option. I enjoyed the solitude, the way the warm water calmed me and seemed to wash away whatever negative mood I'd gone in with.

"Dustin?" Bishop called. I stopped in the doorway, waiting for him to continue. "What does... What does raped mean?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, and looked into his curious, innocent eyes. "It's... nothing."

"You got really mad when Daddy said it."

I closed my eyes, almost wishing he was a little less observant. But it helped him survive. "It means to... to do something to someone when they don't want you to do it... to touch someone who doesn't want you to touch them. It's not good, it's bad. That's why I got mad. All right?"

He nodded, and I left for the shower.

I turned the knob away from me as far as it would go, making the water as hot as possible. The sight alone of the steady stream increased my anticipation. As I waited for it to heat up, I grabbed the other necessities -- a towel, a washcloth, and the like. But not even the stinging heat of the water as each drop met my skin, leaving burning trails as they ran down my body, cleansed me of the rage. It was like a fire, one thousand times hotter than the water. It burnt my mind, branded it until all I could think of were his words.

Pieces of our conversation circled through my mind.

I stepped closer to the wall until my head was directly under the shower nozzle. Water pounded continuously on the back of my head as I faced the tile floor, allowing it to run down the sides of my face. I held my breath.

"Dust." The name echoed through my mind, through my heart. I'd heard it a million and one times over the years. I was sure it didn't bother me anymore.

It still did.

I breathed out the rest of the air I'd trapped, feeling the resulting burn deep inside of me, and stepped back, out of the water. I inhaled all that I could at once. With my palms, I wiped my eyes, simultaneously pushing away the hair that now clung to my face.

I remembered the day she'd told me what my name meant. I hadn't ever thought about it. I just knew what it meant to my father, how he liked to focus on the first syllable.

I closed my eyes. The memory played in the darkness behind my lids.

We were at the hospital, walking down a wide hallway. It felt endless. My eyes scanned the walls, searching them for the number of her room. It finally came.

I'd approached the door slowly, wanting to see her but not wanting to see the pain she was in, the pain the cancer was causing.

For a while, I listened around the corner as she spoke to a doctor... or a nurse. I didn't know, and it didn't matter. It was her voice, Mom's voice. That was all that mattered to me.

Hearing her familiar voice, bright as it always was, gave me the bravery I needed to go into that room. Bishop and McKenna had already gone in. It was just my father and I who had yet to enter.

I was about to go in. A hand stopped me. I turned around to face him.

"You love your mother, right, Dustin?" he'd asked me. I'd nodded immediately. Of course I did. Dad got down onto his knees. Instead of me looking up at him, he looked up at me now, taking my hands in his. "What happened last night..." His eyes lifted slightly to my forehead.