by Hatvany, Amy
“I guess,” Noah says, taking a step toward me, looking a little nervous, too, which sort of makes me feel better. His Neo sunglasses are on top of his head, keeping his hair out of his face. He takes my hand and we sit down on the edge of her bed. We stare at each other a second before he leans in to kiss me, putting his arms around me and pulling me close. When he opens his mouth and slips just the tip of his tongue against my lips, I open my mouth, too, a little weirded out by the feel of his tongue on mine. He tastes like Hot Tamales, which he’d been munching on after his pizza.
He runs his hands over my back, then moves them, tentatively, around to my waist and then my chest. I suck in a quick, sharp breath when he touches my breasts. “Sorry,” he says, snatching his hands back to his own lap. “I didn’t mean to—”
Breathing a little hard, I smile. “No, it’s okay. I just . . . well, it surprised me. But it felt good.” I take his hands and put them back on the sides of my waist. Then, keeping my eyes linked with his, I begin to undo the top buttons on my witch’s dress. He quickly glances down at what I’m doing, but then looks back up to me.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, blinking hard and fast.
“I want to show you,” I say, trying to stop my hands and voice from trembling. When the buttons are undone to my waist, I carefully pull the top of the dress down off my shoulders, taking in a deep breath and holding it as my upper body is totally exposed to him. I close my eyes and wait, feeling his gaze move over my skin first, and then . . . his hands, his fingers running over the raised red ridges of my scar. Down the center of my torso and across my waist. His touch is so tender, so careful, it makes me want to cry.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss me again. And right then, just for that moment, I believe him.
• • •
On the drive home a little while later, I keep looking over at Noah, wondering if he’s thinking about that moment in Jen’s bedroom as much as I am. We only kissed a bit more after I showed him my scar, then I buttoned up my dress and we rejoined the party. I didn’t really want to stop—I wanted to do more, to see and touch his skin, too—but I also don’t want to lose my virginity at a random party in someone else’s basement. It seems like it should be more special than that.
“You’re okay, right?” I ask Noah after I tell him the gate code to put in and he drives up to my house. “That we stopped?” I am a little nervous that he won’t like me anymore, since my general understanding of boys is that the only thing they want more of than pizza is sex.
“Yeah,” he says, shooting me a sideways glance as he puts the car in park. “It wasn’t easy though, ’cause you’re smokin’ hot.” I smile and give him a playful punch on the arm. “Ow!” he says, pretending to be hurt. “Violent, too, apparently.”
I look at the clock on the dashboard. “Ten fifty-eight. Way to make my mom happy.”
“Moms love me,” he says smugly.
“Because you’re a brownnoser,” I say, teasing him.
“Whatever it takes to spend more time with you,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“Oh my god,” I groan. “Total brownnoser.”
We both laugh, and he walks around to open my door for me, holding out a hand to help me out of the car. He doesn’t let my hand go until we’re standing in front of the door, face-to-face. “I had a really great time,” I say, but before he can respond, we both hear what sounds like the shattering of glass.
“What the hell?” he says, but I am already digging through my pocket for my key, my heart working like a jackhammer in my chest.
“My dad” is the only thing I say, and hope he understands. I finally manage to find the key and fling the door open. “Mom?” I call out. “Dad? Is everything okay?” I wait a moment, hearing only a quiet grunting sound coming from the living room. I race in that direction, trying not to slip on the floor in my witch boot heels, Noah following right behind me. Glancing wildly around the room, I don’t see anything except the back of my dad’s head, level with the bottom edge of the bookcase. It looks like he’s on his knees. “Dad!” I yell, but he doesn’t respond.
I run over, and it’s then that I see her—my mother lying beneath him, his hands around her neck. “Get off her!” I scream so loudly it burns the muscles in my throat. I see her bloody face, her arm twisted out from her body at a strange angle. Her eyes are swollen, bruised, and closed. I can’t tell if she’s alive or dead.
“Dad!” I scream again, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to pull him back. My hands just slip right off him.
“Maddie, don’t!” Noah says, trying to grab me, too.
“Call 911!” I shriek. “Now!” Noah fumbles to get his phone out of his back pocket just as I grab for my father’s arm again, trying to make him let go of Mom. There is blood bubbling out of the corner of her mouth—that means she’s still breathing , right?—and I have to fight back the vomit in my own. My dad continues to grunt, squeezing her neck, until I finally haul back and start pummeling his head and face with my fists, trying to beat him off her.
The punch comes out of nowhere, smacking me hard across the face. I fly backward, seeing stars, and land with a hard thump against the edge of the coffee table. “Maddie!” Noah screams. “Please, hurry. He’s going to kill them!”
The police, I think, woozy from the impact to my cheek. He’s talking to the police.
“You little liar,” my father says, spitting out the words. Before I know what’s happening he has rolled me over and hit me again, this time on the other side of my face. There is a wash of coppery blood inside my mouth. I can’t run—I can’t even move. My eyes flood with tears, and all I can think of is that this man—a man who is supposed to love and protect me, who is supposed to take care of his wife and daughter—might just beat us to death.
I look over to Noah, who has dropped his phone and grabbed one of the pokers from the fireplace on the other side of the room. He charges at my father and slams the poker down hard across the top of his back. Dad falls over sideways, howling.
“Get up and I’ll bash in your skull, you fucking bastard,” Noah says, breathing hard. Dad rolls over, and Noah raises the poker threateningly. “Try me,” Noah says, and my father stops moving. He holds up his hands in a defensive posture—palms out, facing Noah.
“You’re going to be sorry you did that,” he growls, clearly still in pain from the strike across his back.
Noah looks at me, and I can tell he’s scared, too. His eyes are wild and wide, and his entire body is shaking. But he’s protecting me. He made my father stop. “Maddie?” he says. “Are you okay?” I nod my head yes, but doing so causes the room to spin. I vomit all over the floor.
“My mom,” I say, creaking out the words.
“I know,” Noah says. The whine of sirens approaches the house. “Can you get up? We need to open the gate. They can cut through it, but that will take too long.”
“Don’t you do it,” my dad says, turning his head to look at me with his angry green eyes. “I’ll kill you if you let them in, Maddie. I swear to god.”
“Shut up!” I scream, the sound ricocheting inside my head like a bullet. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I try and pull myself up using the coffee table. On wobbly feet, I stagger to the front door and press the entry button for the gate, and before I know it, officers are rushing inside my house with their guns drawn. Red and blue lights flash in bright circles in our yard, and the EMTs bring the gurney up the front stairs. “She’s in the living room,” I say, pointing in the right direction.
“You’re bleeding,” one of them says.
“Just go help my mom,” I saying, sobbing. “He was trying to kill her. Please, please help her first.” A second later Noah rushes up next to me, putting his long arms around me. He’s still shaking. I am, too.
“They have him,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay. They put him in handcuffs. They’re going to take him away.”
I nod, my teeth cha
ttering uncontrollably. “Mama,” I whimper, and with the medic’s assistance, Noah leads me back toward the living room, just as three police officers are leading my father out. His wrists are cuffed in front of his waist, and he stares at me with tears in his eyes, where only a moment before there had been hatred.
“I didn’t mean it, Maddie,” he pleads. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. You’re my angel . . . you’re Daddy’s sweet little girl.”
I stop, staring right back at him, feeling the strength of Noah’s arm around me. “No, I’m not,” I say with a coldness I haven’t felt toward him before. This man could be a stranger standing before me. This man is not my father. “You can go to hell.”
“Maddie!” he yells as the policemen drag him out of the house. I can still hear his muffled cries from the back of the police car as the medic sits me down on the couch and examines me. Two other medics work on my mother, sliding her carefully onto a backboard, stabilizing her head between two bright yellow pieces of padding. She hasn’t woken up.
“Is she okay?” I ask, tearfully. “Is she alive?”
One of the medics, a thickly built, dark-haired woman with kind blue eyes, nods. “She’s critical, though, and we need to get her to the hospital. You’ll follow in a different ambulance, okay? We’ll make sure the nurses keep you posted. They’ll need to run some more tests at the ER, but I think you probably just have a concussion.” She pauses. “Is there anyone you can call? Another family member to come wait with you?”
“I need to call my parents,” Noah says, as though just realizing this. “They’ll be wondering where I am.” He squeezes my hand and steps over to the other side of the room with his cell phone. He looks stunned, like he can’t believe what he’s just done. I can’t believe how lucky I am he was with me tonight. If he hadn’t been—if he hadn’t thought to grab that poker—who knows what my father would have done?
“Maddie?” the medic prods me. “Someone to call? The police are going to want to take your statement. Since you’re a minor, you’ll need an adult with you.”
Slowly, I bob my head and reach deep into my pocket for my cell phone, which amazingly didn’t fall out during the struggle with my dad. I scroll through my contacts until I find the one I want.
Hannah answers on the third ring. When I hear her voice I start to sob—loud, body-racking movements that make it almost impossible for me to speak.
“Oh my god, Maddie!” Hannah says, panicked. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
I take a few hiccuping breaths as I attempt to calm down. “He tried to kill her,” I finally say in a weak voice. “We have to go to the hospital. I have to talk with the police. We need you, Hannah. Can you . . . can you come?”
“Which hospital?” she inquires, and I look to the medic and ask the same thing.
“Swedish,” the medic answers, and I relay this information to Hannah, who says she will meet me there. After we hang up, I can’t help but feel that Emily made sure Hannah picked up the phone—that after all we’ve been through, her daughter wants me to be okay.
Hannah
As Hannah pulls up to the same ER where she was with Emily just over a year ago, she tries to not let the painful memories of that day overwhelm her. Entering through the familiar sliding doors, she takes a deep breath and then gives the nurse at the reception desk Olivia’s and Maddie’s names.
After a moment, another nurse guides her back to a curtained area where Maddie lies in a bed. Hannah can barely stand the anger she feels at the sight of Maddie’s swollen and bruised face—both of her eyes are blackened and her bottom lip is split open. The nurse told Hannah that Maddie’s injuries look worse than they are—she escaped her father’s beating with no broken bones, just a mild concussion. What about the injury to her heart? Hannah thinks. There’s nothing mild about that.
“Hannah,” Maddie says when she sees her. Her voice is raspy and she sounds exhausted. Next to the bed stands a tall, slightly gangly boy in a black robe and a man who looks enough like the boy that Hannah assumes he is his father. The boy turns to look at Hannah, too.
“I’m Noah,” he says, “and this is my dad. We didn’t want to leave Maddie alone.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Hannah says, quickly shaking hands with Noah’s father. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”
Noah speaks again. “The police should be here any minute to talk with her about what happened. I gave them my statement back at the house.”
“You were there?” Hannah asks. A brief, traumatized look flashes across Noah’s face and he bobs his head, lips pressed together firmly. His father reaches over and squeezes his son’s shoulder, then moves his gaze to Hannah. “I think I should get him home now,” he says. “If you’re planning to stay.”
“I am,” Hannah assures him.
“I want to stay, too,” Noah says emphatically, glancing at his father. “Please, Dad?”
“Maddie needs to rest, Son,” his father says kindly. “And so do you. We can come back in the morning . . . okay?”
Noah turns his attention to Maddie, who nods. He leans down and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll text you, okay?” he says.
“Okay,” Maddie says, tears filling her already red-rimmed eyes. He straightens and turns to leave, but Maddie’s voice stops him. “Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“I know I already said this like twenty times, but . . . thank you.”
“Eh. No biggie. Totally standard Saturday night.” Noah gives her a shaky grin, and then a moment later, he and his father are gone.
Hannah steps over next to the bed, reaching for Maddie’s hand. “How’s your mom?” Hannah asks. “Do you know?”
“She’s in surgery,” Maddie says, clearly trying not to cry. “The nurse told me she has broken ribs and internal bleeding. And a broken arm, so they’re going to put screws in it so she hopefully can still use it.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Hannah says, not wanting to ask for specifics of the night’s events yet, knowing the police will do that soon enough. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure the doctors will take good care of her.” She waits a beat. “What about you? Are you okay?”
Maddie shrugs, then takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what I would have done if Noah and I hadn’t come home . . . my mom would be dead, Hannah. Dad was trying to kill her.” Maddie dissolves into tears, and Hannah leans down to hold her, careful not to press against her bruised face.
“You’re all right,” she murmurs. “Everything will be all right.” She keeps repeating this, smoothing Maddie’s hair and letting her cry, until a few moments later, when a uniformed police officer pushes back the curtain and steps in to stand on the other side of Maddie’s bed.
“Hi, Maddie,” she says gently. She is a stocky woman with short blond hair and round, pink cheeks. “I’m Officer White, but you can call me Katie, okay?” Maddie pulls back from Hannah and nods, so Katie continues. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Does she have to do this now?” Hannah asks.
“I’m sorry,” Katie says. “I know this is a terrible time, but she’ll remember the details better closer to the event. I’ll go slow, I promise.”
“It’s okay,” Maddie says with a sniffle. “I want to.”
Hannah hands her a tissue from a table at the side of the bed, listening with growing horror as Maddie describes the scene she and Noah walked in on, and then what happened after that. Maddie couldn’t say what led her father to attack Olivia—that would have to come later, from Olivia herself. Hannah can’t believe the bravery Maddie and Noah showed, taking on James like that. No wonder Maddie thanked Noah; it sounds as though he might have saved her life.
“Has your dad ever hit your mother before?” Katie asks, keeping her voice low. Maddie nods, and the officer continues. “How long has it been happening?”
“As long as I can remember,” Maddie says, and half an hour later, after Maddie has recounted everything she can think o
f about her father’s abuse over the years, Katie says she has enough information for now, and it’s time for her to go.
“I’ll walk you out,” Hannah says, wanting to talk with the officer alone. She looks at Maddie. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Maddie nods, and Hannah walks with the officer to the waiting room.
“What happens now?” she asks Katie as they stand off to the side of the sliding doors. “To James Bell, I mean?”
“He’s in custody,” she responds. “And either an attempted murder charge or first-degree assault charges will be filed by the prosecutor’s office. After that, there’ll be a hearing, where his lawyer will probably ask for him to be released on his own recognizance. What happens after that all depends on which judge gets assigned the case.”
“Do you think they’ll release him?” Hannah asks, disgusted at the thought.
The officer shrugs. “That remains to be seen. It’s more likely he’ll have a high bail set, and Mrs. Bell will have to file a restraining order once he pays it and gets out. But considering the violence of his acts tonight, no judge is going to just let him walk. If he doesn’t make a deal and it gets to trial, hopefully he’ll do some serious time.” She pauses. “Still, Mrs. Bell should find a good lawyer. She’s going to need one to make sure she and her daughter are protected.”
Hannah thanks her and returns to Maddie’s side just as a doctor in a blue surgical scrub cap approaches the bed. “I’m Dr. Peyton,” she says, pulling off her cap to reveal a headful of short, tightly woven black braids. She looks at Maddie with kind brown eyes. “I just finished working on your mom.”
Maddie’s chin trembles. “Is she okay?”
Hannah can’t help it; she starts to cry, unable to think of anything other than the moment when the doctor first told her there was no hope for Emily . . . that her daughter would most assuredly die. She waits for the same words to tumble from this doctor’s mouth about Olivia.