pressed against the wall, praying he would forget I was there. When my mother stopped moving and the blood had stopped spurting from her wound, my father pulled a switchblade that was clipped to his belt. I couldn’t see what he was doing from where I stood, but whatever it was took precision. When he stood up, I begged him to let me go. I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone. He didn’t blink, he didn’t speak. He walked slowly up to me, hit me in the face, and shoved me to the ground. He was about to pin me down when we both heard the sound of sirens approaching. I thought, he’d stop and run. But he didn’t. The sirens had distracted him but not stopped him. I decided in that moment, that I didn’t want to die that way. I didn’t want to be someone who didn’t fight back. As he tried to pin me down the sirens grew closer, and he finally just raised his arm up, spike in hand, and plunged it into my leg as I tried to twist away from him. I was pulling at his hair and clawing at his back. Finally, he spun around, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head into the floor, knocking me out.” Piper might have been furious at Bobby for forcing her to tell this story, but there was something cathartic in saying the words out loud, about admitting what had happened to her.
“There is a lot more to this story, Bobby, but I know you need to get to work and it’s important that I tell you the information I have.”
“I don’t need to go to work. I have the afternoon shift today. I was being a jerk. I’ve got time and I want to listen. I’m sorry this is so painful for you, but I promise none of this changes how I feel about you,” Bobby said, wiping a tear from Piper’s warm red cheek. It felt so good to touch her again.
“That’s easy to say, Bobby, but there are things I still can’t forgive myself for. Don’t assume you’ll be able to look past it,” she said, pulling away from him slightly. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. Can we please get in your truck and go for a ride? I don’t want to talk about it here.” Piper stood up and ran her fingers through her hair pulling the loose pieces away from her face and tying them back into a messy bun. She knew her lack of sleep, lack of makeup, and overall ragged appearance should have kept her from leaving the apartment, but all she wanted was to be riding in the passenger seat of Bobby’s truck watching the world zip by. Most people would assume that the memory of nearly being killed and watching your mother take her last breath, would be the hardest thing to reminisce about, but really it’s what happened next that Piper struggled with the most.
Bobby and Piper climbed into his truck, and he started to drive with no real direction in mind. Piper waited until they were out-of-town and heading down a long stretch of open road before she started to speak again.
“The police came and stopped my bleeding just in time. My father had fled, and, because I wasn’t conscious, they had no leads to start hunting him down. When I woke up in the hospital there was a woman sitting next to me.” Piper conjured up the memory of that haunting and familiar face she had awoken to. She remembered she had short jet-black hair and the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Her skin was a rich dark espresso.
“I remember thinking how beautiful and strong she looked. She was dressed in a perfectly tailored gray suit, and she smelled like peppermint. I thought for a minute that maybe I was dead and she was some kind of spirit. But I realized quickly I was alive and that life was about to get much harder for me. The woman told me her name was Special Agent Lydia Carlson of the FBI. She was sorry to inform me that my mother had not survived the brutal attack in our apartment but that, miraculously, I had. She told me she knew I was tired, and this was not an ideal time to have to rehash the horrific details, but time was of the essence.
“I wanted to speak but my mouth and throat were so dry,