by R. R. Banks
"Trevor, she isn't yours anymore. She is her own fucking person. She always has been. She can decide where she wants to be, and she doesn't want to be here with you." I think about the time that has passed since I made the call to Evan. "The police are already on their way, Trevor. Give it up."
"No, they aren't. I've been watching you since you got here. You haven't called them. Even if you did, you don't know where you are. You couldn't get them here even if you tried."
It is taking everything in me to stay calm, but I force myself to remember the way Abigail talked about the way she interacted with him. I know screaming at him will only rile him up. Lunging at him the way my testosterone-filled muscles are aching to do will put Abigail in more danger. I have to appeal to the twisted, broken way Trevor thinks. He wants to cause pain and to terrify her. He likes thinking that he has control over her. If I can speak to that part of him, I can buy myself enough time to get closer and take him down without risking Abigail’s safety.
"Let her go now and you have a chance to run for a while. Like you said, it's hard to find this house. You'll have time to get away before they can get here."
Trevor looks at me suspiciously for a second, then lets out a bitter laugh. The blade of the knife draws closer to Abigail's neck, and I see her eyes close as she tries to pull her head back away from it without touching Trevor more than she has to.
"Why would I want to run?" Trevor asks. "I haven't done anything wrong. She is my property and you tried to steal her. She wouldn't stay away if you didn't make her. Just wait. The police are going to see it my way. They didn't understand it the first time, but I'm on my property now. I can do anything I want. If anything, they will arrest you for being a thief," Trevor laughs like he thinks he is raucously funny as spittle flies from his mouth.
My stomach is tied in knots and spots dance in front of my eyes. Abigail whimpers, and a wash of red fills my vision as a renewed sense of anger consumes me. I take another step toward him.
"Why let the police handle it at all then?" I ask. "Defend your property. Be a real man and come punish me yourself."
"No, Xavier, please," I hear Abigail plead, but Trevor tosses her down on the floor of the porch.
I can hear her body thump on the wood sickeningly, and the anger reaches its boiling point inside of me.
"Watch this, baby," he calls to Abigail, who I can see twitching at his feet. "I'll show you what a real man is like."
With that, he charges me. Before I completely settle my weight to brace myself, I see him fling the knife at me. I duck, and it clips me, slicing a large line across my back, momentarily distracting me. Before I can gain my footing again, he explodes into me, shoulder-blocking me into a piece of rusty, abandoned machinery sitting in the tall grass. The impact sends a new jolt of pain into my cut and up my spine. His fists begin flying but there is little strength behind them, and I slap at his hands like they’re nothing more than mosquitos. I need to get solidly on my feet and see him clearly before I can take control of the situation, but he is flailing at me with his fists and kicks in such a frenzied manner that I have to roll on my side across the crumbling metal to gain space between us. I move just in time to miss a kick aimed at my gut, and I crouch down to throw him off balance. Exploding upward, I tackle Trevor, shoving him to the ground a few feet away from me. It gives me a moment to look at Abigail and see she is sitting up on her hands and knees, looking at us. Just seeing that she is able to move reassures me that she is alright. At least for now.
I turn back to see Trevor's fist entering my field of vision. He rocks me in the eye and my vision dims momentarily as I stumble backward. He runs toward me, but I regain my focus fast enough to trip him with my legs and force him onto the ground with me. I reach over and grab his shirt, yanking him toward me as I duck my head and throw my entire body weight at him, driving my elbow down on his already crooked nose. He cries out in pain as he slumps backward, blood flowing like a waterfall down his chin.
His arms become trapped under my knees as I straddle his chest, pinning him down. I rain down blows from my fists into his jaw with both hands, releasing fury and tension each time we make contact. After a few shots, I can see him starting to lose the will to fight, and I use my elbow to launch my body weight directly into his jaw. I feel his jaw crack and know he is probably close to losing consciousness now. I don't care. He will never hurt Abigail again when I’m done with him.
I shift back so my legs are off him, and I feel Trevor roll onto his stomach. I grab him with my arm and slip it under his chin, holding his open arm with my other and wrapping my leg over his, rendering him completely incapable of moving. I begin to choke him, allowing his body to slowly become limp beneath me.
"How does it feel you son of a bitch?!" I roar at him. "How does it feel for someone stronger than you to hold your life in his hands?"
"Xavier, stop!" I hear Abigail's voice ringing through the air. It breaks me out of the blurred, ferocious trance holding me in place. I look up and see her hovering over me, her hands on my arms as she tries to pull me away, begging me to stop. "Please, it’s not worth it," she yells. “Think of your daughter. Please, he’s about to pass out. Think of us. Think of our future. It's not worth throwing your life away for trash like him."
I look back at Trevor’s twitching body in my arms and let go. It takes every bit of restraint I have not to keep choking him until I know he will never take another breath. I know that even if I never regret it, Abigail would never forget it. She would never look at me the same after that, and I know it. Reluctantly, I release him, and he slumps over to the ground, moaning and breathing heavily.
I stand, and Abigail throws herself into me. I wrap my arms around her in an embrace and kiss her on her forehead and cheeks, trying desperately to make up for every tear rolling down her face and every scratch I see on her soft, delicate skin. I suddenly hear sirens drawing close to us. Overhead, I see a police helicopter scanning the area, and it makes a low pass near us, but sweeps back up and heads into the distance.
A police car skids into the clearing behind us, throwing up gravel as it squeals to a stop. I am relieved when two officers jump out and run toward us. Abigail and I put our hands up, but the officers already know who we are and pass right by us, heading for Trevor instead. He is stirring now and has crawled a little bit away from where I left him. He's moving toward the woods as if he has rethought me saying he could run and thinks now is the time to try to take advantage of that missed opportunity. He's barely moving, and one officer quickly overtakes him. The officer reaches for him, and Trevor stands quickly, rushing forward and ramming his shoulder into the officer's stomach. The assault takes the officer by surprise, and he falls to the ground. Trevor immediately scrambles over to him, reaching for the gun at his hip.
"Stop, or I will sh –" the other officer yells at him, but before he can get finish the sentence, Trevor has already wrestled the gun from the downed officer.
He raises the weapon toward me. I grab Abigail and shove her out of the way as I spin my back to him, feeling like I am moving in slow motion, my only thought to protect her. I hear two shots and my back explodes with pain and fire. I crumple to the ground with Abigail screaming beside me and, for a moment, the world goes still.
Chapter Eighteen
Abigail
One week later...
I feel Xavier's arms around me, my body resting across his lap as he cradles me close to him. Pain rushes through my body, making me feel like every nerve is on fire, but the sound of his voice whispering into my ears soothes me.
"You're OK, Abigail," he whispers. "You're going to be OK. I'm here. I’m not going anywhere. I will never stop taking care of you. I will never stop protecting you. I love you so much, Abigail."
Everything fades to darkness, but what feels like seconds later, I'm suddenly aware of my surroundings again. Everything has changed. I still feel pain, but it isn't as sharp and intense as before. Rather than the hard, dusty ground be
neath me, I feel something smooth and cool. My head no longer rests on Xavier's lap but is nestled on something softer. I try to open my eyes, but it's difficult. My eyelids seem to strain with the effort, but they eventually flicker up enough for me to look around. I felt like I was in the yard in front of Trevor's house only minutes ago, but as my eyes open I become increasingly aware that isn't the case anymore. I'm lying in a bed, the sheet and blankets over me a crisp white. I turn my stiff neck muscles to one side and see a tangle of cords connected to machinery. It settles in that I'm in the hospital, and likely have been here for quite a while.
"Abigail?"
It's Xavier's voice, and I lift my eyes toward it. He comes to the side of the bed and sits. I move my fingers, and he slides his hand across the sheet to touch mine. The smile on his face is bright and genuine, but the worry in his eyes is obvious.
"You're awake," he says. “Thank god.”
I nod gingerly.
"How long have I been here?" I ask.
I can barely recognize the hoarse voice as my own.
"About a week," he says. "You were in pretty bad shape when you got here, so they've kept you in a medical coma to let you heal. They started reducing the medication over the last few days to let you wake up on your own. The doctors say you're doing really well. You're probably going to have to stay here for a little while longer to fully heal and recuperate, but then you can come home."
I love the way the word home sounds coming out of his mouth, but the images flashing in my mind won't let me feel the happiness. The horrible smells and agonizing pain dominate my memory, and I force myself to focus on them, so I don’t think about the horror of watching Xavier's hands tearing into Trevor, and Trevor's attack in return. My eyes glance down at the blanket where my fingers intertwine with Xavier's, and I let out a breath of relief when I don't see any blood streaked across his skin. I look into his face.
"Did they get him?" I ask. It hurts to force the words out of my mouth, but I have to ask. I have to know what my future holds tomorrow, or next week, or months from now. "Do the police have Trevor?"
"No," Xavier says. The word cuts through me, but I feel his grip tighten on my hand. "He's dead, Abigail."
I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me.
"What?" I ask, disbelief coloring my voice. "Did you…"
"No," Xavier says. "He got a gun from one of the police officers. He shot at you and the other officer shot him in response. He was killed instantly. The bullets he shot grazed me and went into you."
"He's dead?" I ask. "Are you sure? Are you sure he's gone?"
Xavier nods, holding my hand even tighter.
"Yes," he says. "I saw him. He was dead before he hit the ground. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you better."
"You saved my life, Xavier. I'm so sorry I put you in that position."
"You never have to apologize," he says. “I would have gone through much worse than that to ensure your safety. I just wish I'd gotten there sooner."
"Thank you for coming for me," I say. "I didn't even know if the panic button would work. I didn't know if I was close enough for the signal to get to you."
"Abigail, wherever you are is close to me."
Xavier leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, then nuzzles my nose with the tip of his.
"You held me," I say, remembering the memory that flashed right before I woke up. "I remember you holding me."
"That was right after he shot you," Xavier says. "I held you until the ambulance got there. The doctors said you probably wouldn't have any memory of what happened."
"I remember," I say. "I don't want to remember the rest of it, but I never want to forget that. You said you would always take care of me."
"I meant everything I said to you," he says.
I draw in a breath and let it out slowly.
"Even when you said you loved me?" I ask.
Xavier smiles at me. "Yes. I love you, Abigail. I love you today, and I loved you yesterday. I loved you a week ago. I loved you three months ago, and I'll love you a hundred years from now. I will never stop telling you I love you until you understand how precious your existence is to me."
"Then I'll never tell you I feel that way," I say, "because I never want to stop hearing it."
"I love you," he says again.
"I love you, too."
His lips meet mine, and I close my eyes to melt into the kiss. I want it to carry me away, and blur everything else in my mind. There is a sense of shock, a deep impact inside of me at the realization that Trevor is dead. The thought that another human life ended in such a brutal way is so horrible, but I can't bring myself to feel sad. I only feel free.
As the kiss ends, I feel a sudden surge of worry.
"Where are Evan and Anna?" I ask. "Are they alright?"
"They're fine," Xavier says reassuringly. "They were at home when everything happened. They're on their way up here to visit you. I know they'll be ecstatic to see you awake. Anna has been trying to read to you every day. I think she's probably memorized most of it, but she's convinced she's reading a new book to you every day."
"I wouldn't put it past her," I say. "She's an incredible little girl."
"Yes, she is." Xavier runs his fingertips along the side of my face. "They were so worried about you. I was so worried about you. When I found your purse and your phone in that alley, I was terrified. I didn't know where you were, or what was happening, and there was nothing I could do. I never want to feel that way again. You are a part of my heart, Abigail, and a part of Anna's. You could have run to the ends of the Earth, and I would have found you. I love you, and never want you to question that for a single day of your life. But for right now, you have to focus on getting better. Rest and heal, and then we can move on with the rest of our lives."
********
Abigail
Thanksgiving
The entire apartment is filled with the warm, welcoming smell of the turkey roasting in the oven. It's rich and familiar, filling me with a sense of nostalgia even though I can't remember a truly happy Thanksgiving beyond the holidays I was able to spend with my brother. I've been planning the menu for weeks, and I threw myself out of bed far too early this morning, wanting to get to Xavier's apartment and start cooking. We decided that I shouldn’t move into his apartment just yet. It's important for Anna to see our relationship develop and grow, and for her life to remain as consistent as possible until the three of us adjust to our new reality. I also feel like it’s incredibly important for me to know that for the first time in my life, I am truly safe and secure both in the arms of the man I love and alone. Being able to be on my own in my own apartment, genuinely unafraid, is a novelty and luxury I'm still enjoying several months after being released from the hospital.
I've just gotten Anna changed into her holiday clothes and styled her hair when Evan arrives. He's holding an old white baking dish in his hands, and I recognize it as another relic he salvaged from our grandmother's house. I wrap one arm around his shoulders to hug him as I accept the dish into my other hand.
"You didn't need to bring anything," I say. "I've cooked far too much food as it is, and half the side dishes still have to be warmed up."
"She really has," Xavier says as he walks past me.
I swat his shoulder playfully, and he leans over to kiss me on the cheek.
"I helped, Uncle Evan," Anna chimes in. "I tore up the bread for the stuffing, and I rolled out the pie crust. I even tasted all the pie feelings before they went in. Abigail says I was quality control."
"Well," he says. "That is a very important job. We couldn't just let Abigail make subpar Thanksgiving pies, could we?"
Evan grins and scoops the little girl up into his arms. I can see in his eyes how much she delights him, and I wonder, not for the first time, if he’ll ever find someone to start a family with of his own. Now that I'm in such a good place, I hope he'll give himself permission to stop worrying about me so much and learn to live for him
self.
Later that afternoon, when the table is finally covered with countless bowls and platters, and I've nestled a giant roasted turkey into the center, we all sit down together. It feels like the perfect moment as the family settles around the table and Xavier reaches for my hand, and I rest mine in his palm. His fingers closing around mine is an unspoken promise he repeats every day. This is our family and our future, and we are moving forward into it together.
It takes nearly two hours for Evan to decide he's finished eating, but not before proclaiming himself the 'Winner of Thanksgiving' for fitting in three more bites of pumpkin pie than Xavier. I think this means we're ready to roll ourselves across the living room and let the tryptophan take effect, but as soon as Evan puts his fork down on the table and leans back in his chair, Anna's eyes light up. She sits up straighter in her chair and looks at Xavier expectantly.
"Is it time now, Daddy?" she asks.
She's nearly bouncing with excitement, and I turn curious eyes to Xavier.
"Time?" I ask. "Time for what?"
"Christmas!" Anna gushes.
"We just finished eating Thanksgiving dinner," I say.
"Exactly," Evan says, trying to pull himself up out of his chair. "So, it is officially Christmas."
"I don't understand."
"Christmas is Anna's favorite time of the year," Xavier explains. "It has been since she was old enough to understand what holidays even are. I've always wanted to give her as much of the season as I possibly can, so it's our tradition to start celebrating as soon as we're done with Thanksgiving."
I remember him telling me how much Anna loves Christmas, and how important it is for him to let her enjoy it as much as she can, but he never explained it any further.
"And you knew this?" I ask Evan.
He nods.
"Of course. Where do you think I spent Thanksgiving the years I wasn't with you?" He looks at Anna. "Come on. Let's go get the trees."