Nobody's Angel

by Sarah Hegger

  “It’s not that simple,” Lucy repeated, more quietly this time.

  “Yes, it is that simple,” Lynne tucked her hands into the opposite wrists of her cardigan, like a child. “You were loved and you had everything. I don’t understand any of this.”

  “Mom—” And Lucy stopped short. She didn’t have the right words to explain. Not without breaking her mother in two and she shut her mouth again. “It’s to do with me being an alcoholic.” It was such a cop-out she nearly winced at herself.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Carl appeared in the doorway.

  He looked like hell. His pajamas hung about his frame and were dirty and stained. Knowing Lynne, it must have been a battle of monumental proportions for Carl to still be wearing soiled clothing. His face was unshaven and gray, straggly beard dotted his chin and cheeks. All about his head, his hair stood up like a mad scientist’s. He looked certifiable, glaring balefully at her from bloodshot eyes.

  “What are you trying to do?” His eyes darted over the small pile of plastic crates. “What is all this stuff? This is mine, isn’t it? You are throwing my stuff away.” Her father had grown old and pitiful and Lucy’s heart contracted painfully.

  “Carl.” Lynne uttered his name as a sort of animal moan, but he ignored her and focused his feverish gaze back on Lucy.

  “What are you doing with my things? These are my things.”

  “They are old Halloween costumes of mine,” Lucy said gently. She got up and stepped out into the hall.

  His hard, accusing eyes followed her movements as she bent and opened the nearest crate. “See, Dad?” She held up the mermaid. “Old Halloween costumes.”

  “You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”

  “What is it, Dad? What are you saying?” Lucy threw a quick glance at Lynne, but her mother wrung her hands and sent her a plea with her eyes. “Nobody’s trying to get rid of you, Dad.”

  “You lie.” Spittle collected around the corners of his mouth and his eyes narrowed viciously. “You can’t lie to me.” He took a few steps toward her and Lucy retreated. “I know why you are here. I’ve heard you talking and talking. Trying to get rid of me.”

  Lynne shook her head frantically in denial and Lucy took a deep, careful breath. “Dad.” She gestured toward the open box. “Take a look. These are boxes of my old Halloween costumes. I thought I might take them to the Salvation Army.”

  “And where will you take me?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I heard you, whispering to her.” He jerked his head in Lynne’s direction. “Saying things about me so that she wants to get rid of me too.”

  “Carl?” Lynne covered her mouth with her hand. “How can you say such things? Lucy is your daughter, she only wants what is best for you. We’re a family, we take care of each other.”

  Lynne threw Lucy for a loop with that one. No, she wanted to shout. We were never that family.

  “Shut up,” Carl said, rounding on Lynne.

  Lucy swallowed the quick, sharp rush of anger and she clenched her fists together. It did no good to strike out in reaction. Keep it cool, think, Lucy, don’t react, think.

  “I don’t want to hear your lies.” Carl turned his venom back on Lucy.

  It was easier when he picked on her and Lucy relaxed her fists. Lynne retreated into a wounded silence and Lucy stepped between Carl and the open doorway to give Lynne a moment to recover.

  “You think you can get rid of me.” His feverish eyes tracked every move she made. “But I’ll get rid of you first. You can’t come back here. We don’t want you here.”

  It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did, like a rusty blade to the gut. Lucy knew this about her father. Yes, he was sick and losing his wits, but he had never wanted her, never wanted a girl. She had spent her entire youth trying to be the boy he wanted. It had been a wasted effort. She kept her face blank. He would never see the marks he made with his cruel words. It was a habit so ingrained Lucy didn’t even have to try. The mask descended over her features like a curtain.

  “That’s not true.” Lynne bustled around her and confronted Carl. “We do want her here. You miss her when she’s away.”

  “Miss her?” Carl jeered. “Miss the drama and the tears and the performances? Don’t be stupid, woman. You were always blind to what she was, but I saw right through you.” He turned back to Lucy, his face flushed. “I see right through to the rotten core of you and I know you.”

  “No, Dad, you don’t.” Lucy didn’t know much, but this she knew for sure. Her father didn’t even have a clue. Even now in his illness-driven malice, she was a stranger to him. And for once, Lucy was glad of it. This way, his power to hurt her was limited.

  “You are not my daughter.” He pointed a shaking hand at her, like some caricature of a patrician father.

  “Oh, I am that.” Lucy’s face twisted into a rictus of a smile. “I don’t think either of us is delighted about it, but we can’t change the facts now.”

  “Get out.” Carl stumbled toward her.

  Lucy backed away. Carl looked wild and out of control and her gut clenched nervously.

  His mouth worked feverishly, his eyes had lost their focus. “Get out of my house.”

  “Lucy.” Lynne’s eyes were wide in her face. “He doesn’t know what he is saying.”

  “I think he does.” Lucy’s control teetered precariously. The malice on Carl’s face sent loud alarms screaming through her brain.

  Carl moved closer until he was almost upon her. Lucy stepped back toward the stairs, but he kept coming. “I don’t want you here.” His jaw split into a manic grin. “I never wanted you here.”

  “Carl!” Her mom was sobbing, but Lucy was aware of the stairs right behind her and she kept her eyes locked on her father.

  “OUT,” Carl bellowed, his fetid breath hitting her face in a damp, nauseating wave. His face contorted with rage. Her father’s features wavered in front of her eyes, misty and unsubstantial. No, a voice whimpered in the back of her mind, not again.

  She looked over to her mother, desperately trying to anchor the growing fear.

  Lynne had both hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

  Carl’s hand shot out and gripped her arm. Lucy tried to wriggle free, but he was stronger than he looked and he gave her a shove toward the stairs. I always win, his eyes glittered at her. His eyes loomed larger and larger in front of her. It was there, the desire to hurt and to punish. A voice screamed in her mind and Lucy’s breathing quickened.

  The ground beneath her foot was suddenly not there. Lucy slipped down three stairs before she grabbed the balustrade and stopped her fall. Her arm wrenched in the socket as she clutched the wood beneath her desperate fingers. The stair beneath her feet felt insubstantial and treacherous. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, her knees had turned to rubber as she clung to the banister and watched him take two steps toward her. Lynne screamed, but Lucy could barely make out the words. Her mind skewed desperately back to another place and another man. She couldn’t breathe. She was choking. Her vision flickered black around the edges.

  Run! Lucy turned, her feet taking the stairs two at a time. She didn’t stop for a coat, but hurtled through the front door, her heart pounding so loudly she could hear nothing else. Get away, the blood pounded in her ears. Run, Lucy, run.

  The air hit her like a slap in the face, but Lucy barely felt it. The pavement was icy beneath her feet as she scrambled. Her footing went out from under her and she hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. She tasted the coppery tang of blood in her mouth, but she didn’t stop. She crawled back to her feet. She must escape.

  A large form materialized out of the dark in front of her and Lucy screamed. The form moved and she brought her hands up to shield her head.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Lucy?”

  Hands on her arms, confining her and stopping her from getting away. Not this time. She wouldn’t let it happen again. She was stronger now. Lucy k
icked out. Her foot slipped again on the ice and she almost fell.

  “Lucy, stop.”

  The hands prevented her from falling. Strong arms enfolded her against a hard chest. She wrenched her head free. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Lucy, don’t make me shake you, baby.”

  Richard.

  Her mind did another dizzying whirl and she stopped. Her breath caught in her throat and her head dropped forward onto his chest. She smelled sweat and Richard and she dragged the comfort into her lungs.

  “What the fuck happened?” he asked.

  She heard her mother’s voice, but Lucy couldn’t frame the sound into words. Beneath her ear, his heartbeat pounded slow and sure. Richard spoke again, a deep rumble through the breadth of his chest. She felt numb. She was aware of her feet moving, being steadily propelled forward. The cold crept around the edges of her perception and she shivered. Her teeth chattered in her head.

  Lucy looked up.

  Richard’s face was set and grim. The details started to drop into place. He led her, half-carried her, toward his house. Lucy’s chest constricted. She’d totally freaked out and she’d done it right in front of Richard. She wanted to run and hide, but his hold on her was firm and unrelenting.

  “I’m okay now.” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

  “Bullshit.” He marched her up the porch and through the front door. Lucy found herself in his kitchen again, being gently, but firmly, shoved into a chair. “Stay there,” he said. His face was streaked with perspiration. Lucy took in the workout gear, the sweat making it cling to his body. He must have been out running again.

  “Richard.” She cleared her throat. “I really am fine.”

  His mouth tightened and he shook his head. “Stay there.” His voice brooked no argument. “I am going to see what I can do for your mom, but you stay there.”

  Her mother. Lucy shot out of her chair as she realized she’d left Lynne there with that crazy old bastard.

  Richard stepped right in front of her. “Sit.”

  Lucy’s knees folded beneath her.

  “I’m going over to see what’s happening, but you need to stay right here.”

  The door slammed behind him and Lucy felt the silence in the kitchen press down on her. She propped her elbows on the table. Her hands were still shaking. Fuck. She had totally and completely lost it. She hadn’t done that in years. It was this place. Being here was going to drive her out of her fucking mind.

  She wanted a drink, but she knew she wouldn’t have one. The need to run and keep running had her halfway out of her chair. She could leave while Richard was still in there with her parents. She could get in her car and drive, but where?

  Lucy shook her head and sat down again. She knew she wasn’t going to do that either. Her knee ached and she bent to examine it. Her jeans were ripped and blood seeped out, staining the fabric around the tear. She must have done that when she fell. When she fell running out of the house like a crazy woman. Carefully she tugged the sides of the rip apart to assess the damage. It wasn’t a deep cut, more of a bad graze.

  She wondered what Richard was doing over at her house. With a groan she dropped her forehead onto the table. Way to go convincing him she was the new and improved Lucy. She’d dragged him into another one of those scenes he hated so much. She should never have come back here. It had seemed so right when she and Mads talked it over. It was going to shit so fast it made her head spin. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids and she raked in a hard breath. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t.

  Time dragged by, but Lucy focused on her breathing. The faint scent of almonds rose from the wood beneath her face and she grabbed onto that small detail. Drawing in the calming air and letting the ball in her chest unravel as she breathed out again.

  She heard the door open and she sat up.

  Richard stalked into the kitchen, his face carved into grim lines. The silence stretched between them as he walked over to the faucet and poured a glass of water. He brought it over to the table and set it in front of her.

  “Is my mother all right?”

  “She’s fine,” he said curtly. “I had to give your dad something to calm him down.” He ran an impatient hand through his hair. “I have to take a shower and then we’ll talk.”

  It was the last thing she wanted to do and Lucy started to rise to her feet. One look made her sink back down again.

  “I should go,” she protested.

  “No.” Richard had a look on his face that promised questions, questions she really did not want to answer.

  “I won’t be long,” he said and left the kitchen.

  She was alone with her lunatic thoughts again. She glanced around her for distraction. The kitchen was as immaculate as ever.

  He must have had the world’s fastest shower, because he was back in the kitchen before she had time to formulate a cohesive set of answers. He was in another pair of disreputable track pants and a T-shirt, his hair wet and slicked back against his head. He didn’t speak, but knelt in front of her. Lucy wondered what he was doing, before she felt his hand grasp her calf as he peered at her knee.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, dismissing the scratch.

  Richard didn’t seem to hear her as he examined the wound carefully.

  Lucy wriggled beneath his clasp. He really was making too much of it. “I’ve had worse.”

  He sucked in a deep breath and looked at her. “That was my next question.”

  “It’s nothing, Richard.” She shifted her leg out of the warm hold of his hand. “My dad got aggressive with me and I had a meltdown.”

  “You’re lying, Lucy.” He got up and moved back to the counter. He found some swabs and a tube of antiseptic ointment. He put warm water in a bowl and came back to where she sat.

  Lucy hissed in a sharp breath as he cleaned the scrape. He kept his head bent. His hair was drying, curling up slightly at the edges. Lucy wanted to reach out and touch the softness of those curls. Richard had always kept his hair short because he hated those curls. He worked in silence, smoothing ointment over her wound.

  “Do you think I’ll live?” She tried to lighten the mood.

  Richard grunted and rose fluidly to his feet and sat opposite her. His eyes searched her face intently.

  “Your dad is getting worse, you know?” He clasped his hands together in front of him on the table. Richard had long, elegant fingers and Lucy stared at them. “I recommended a center I know. It’s nearby and he can stay as an outpatient or live in. I’ll write up my assessment and send it to Lynne in the morning. I tried to talk to your mother tonight, but she’s very upset.”

  “No kidding?” Lucy huffed. “I’ve never seen him like that. He was like a complete stranger.” They were drifting closer to that place she did not want to go. Lucy talked to fill the silence. “I mean, you know he’s never been the most charming man around, but nothing like this.”

  “Lucy?” he cut across her babbling. She snapped her mouth shut. “Your dad is sick and we can do something about that, but I want to know what the fuck happened to you out there.”

  “I told you—”

  “Lucy.” He leaned forward. “What happened?”

  His eyes bored into the back of her head. He was not going to back down and Lucy sighed. She so did not want to go there.

  “It was a while ago.” She dropped her eyes and pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes. She hated talking about this. “I’m over it.” Which is why you went apeshit tonight, her mind whispered. Lucy gave a short laugh and looked at him.

  She could see the same thought in his eyes.

  “For the most part, I’m over it.” She drew a shaky breath.

  He watched and waited.

  “I don’t know what happened.” She shrugged and clasped her hands together on the table. Two inches separated her hands from Richard’s and she realized she’d unconsciously mimicked his pose. “My dad started to get aggressive and suddenly I’m right back there.” She
met his gaze and held it. Concern darkened his eyes to indigo. “Something like tonight hasn’t happened in a really long time.”

  “Who was this guy? Jason?”

  Lucy almost laughed at that. “No,” she said hastily. “Jason had lots of charming quirks, mostly around not being able to keep his dick in his pants, but he never hurt me. Not physically.”

  Richard looked down at his hands for a long while. He stretched his fingers out until they touched hers. The smallest brush with the very tips of his fingers, but the warmth spread over her entire hand. Her fingers relaxed and he slid his between hers and tangled them lightly together.

  “No matter how angry I was,” he spoke at last, “I would never have wished that on you.”

  “Me neither.” Lucy shrugged. “But it’s a strange thing, because in the end it was what got me sober. I had to go that low before I could claw my way up again.”

  His fingers tightened around hers. “How low?” His voice was a soft growl.

  “I’m not going to get into the details with you.”

  Richard’s face tightened.

  He was not happy about that, but Lucy shook her head. The details were unimportant anyway. “His name was Peter and he was fun and exciting and he never judged me on how much I drank. Not such a nice guy as it turns out. A bit too quick with his fists.”

  Richard drew in a soft, harsh breath.

  Lucy smiled ruefully. “He wasn’t nearly as ready to put up with my shit and my drama as you were.”

  “Lucy?” His voice was so tender it almost undid her control.

  Lucy pulled away. She couldn’t risk the touch, not with her soul laid bare. “Peter put me in the hospital in the end.”

  Richard closed his eyes as if hearing the words pained him.

  “That’s where Mads found me and dragged me back into the land of the living.”

  “Mads?”

  “My sponsor.” Lucy smiled. Mads, her sponsor, lifeline, and biggest nag.