by Lilly James
“I idolized my father,” why is my voice croaking? “until I was old enough to start becoming suspicious of the bruises on my mother’s body. Her black eyes. Her cut lips. I started wondering why my mom would always cry when she thought nobody was around. Why she was always so happy until my father came home from work.” I look up after a beat and see Louisa’s hand against her chest. I know she feels pain for me, but she will never know how painful it is to one-day stop calling your dad a hero, and start calling him a murderer instead. “Why wasn’t I big enough to stop him, Lou? Why wasn’t I strong enough to protect my mom from all those years of misery?”
Louisa remains where she is, but hugs herself with her arms. “Hunter, you were too young.”
“Yeah?” I shake my head and glance out of the window to the side of me. “When I was fourteen I was big enough.” I am clenching my fists again. “My dad didn’t hear me walking through the door. I had been to baseball practice, so when I heard my mom crying and begging my dad to get off her, I pulled out my baseball bat from my bag.” I hear Louisa’s breaths turn heavy, I know she hates violence, but I must be truthful.
“I walked into the kitchen to where he was about to punch her in the stomach, and I flipped. I lifted the bat and smacked it right across the back of his head. He fell to the floor–knocked out.” I wipe my eye with the side of my sleeve. “My mom thought I’d killed him. She even said that she would take the blame.” I grit my teeth. “But that motherfucker got back up with nothing more than a headache,” I growl out of frustration. “The next day, he gave my mom a dog’s life, and it was all my fault.”
Louisa sits beside me and places her hands on my knee. “Hunter, I can’t imagine being put in the position you are in right now, and I can’t say that I wouldn’t hate my father if I were in the same boat.” She sighs. “But I would try and forgive. Clutching at hate and allowing it to rule your life is impacting on the way you live. Resenting someone is like self-torture Hunter. What do you gain from it?”
I stare at her again, her question hits me so hard I feel like I’ve run straight into a brick wall. “I…” come on brain, you must have something in there. I swallow down that lump again. “It makes my dad feel guilty. It shows him how much I hate him.”
“But what do you gain from it?” she asks again.
After pausing to think about it, and coming up with zero, I sigh. “Absolutely nothing.”
Louisa sits in my lap and swings her arm around my neck. “Baby,” God I love it when she calls me that. “You can’t go on like this. You need to talk to your dad because this rift isn’t going away anytime soon.”
“I can’t forget it though Lou. The day she died replays in my head every damn day.”
I hear Louisa swallow. “What happened? Tell me.”
I let out a painful sigh and begin. “I went got home one evening from school and asked my brother where mom was…” I continue to recall that night.
“Mom’s in work where she always is. Where she always wants to spend her goddam time.” My brother said.
I playfully clipped him across the head. “Two things brother, curse again about our mom and I’ll slap the words right out of your mouth. Second thing, mom works so goddam much because she has to keep this roof over our heads, and food on the table.”
He crossed his arms. “Liar, she just wants to stay away in case she gets on the wrong side of dad.”
I looked away because he was right. My mom worked her damn ass off because my father was a lazy bum who only cared about his next drink. My mom said it wasn’t his fault. That the things he saw in the army drove him to drink. I always said he was a coward. And a fucking woman beater. After hitting him with the bat, I can remember thinking; I swear to God if I ever see him laying one more hand on my mom again I’d kill him.
I picked up my duffel bag and headed to where my mom worked to get some things for a picnic.
“Hey, sweetie. Picking up your water for practice?”
As I walked down the aisle, my mom was just pulling out a bottle of water from the drinks cabinet. My mom’s voice was soft and soothing; her hands were warm and gentle.
“Hey, mom.” I can remember pulling my mom into an embrace and kissing her cheek. I never pulled away from my mom or got embarrassed to hug her. She was the one brought me into this world, and she deserved more than my utmost respect.
“I’ve been to practice, mom. How’s work?” I looked down at the canned food she had to stock the shelves with and picked up a couple to help her.
“It’s all good, sweetie.” My mom would smile and act like she loved her job for my sake when I knew she hated it deep down because her boss was the worst kind of chauvinistic pig of their kind.
“I need to get a few things for… a picnic.” I grinned.
“Oh? For you and Jaxon?”
I shook my head and placed a can of beans on the shelf. “A girl, actually.”
I can remember waiting for my mother’s excitement.
“Oh, Hunter!” She squealed, pulling me into her and giving me another kiss. “You didn’t tell me you were dating.”
“Mom I’ve been dating since I was nine,” I said after smiling awkwardly.
My mom asked what her name was, and I told her it was Cindy. “She’s real pretty,”
“Oh, you have to bring her to meet me.”She pinched my cheek.
I scoffed and picked up another can. “With dad around? No way.”
I can remember the way my mom’s smile faded, and it killed me inside because I never wanted to burst her bubble.
My mom chuckled, and said, “I’m sure your dad can behave for one night.” I knew even then it was a nervous chuckle. A sound she did when she was uncomfortable or trying to make the situation light.
“He couldn’t even behave at Gran’s funeral Mom.” I spat out. “What makes you sure he will behave now.” I kissed my mom’s cheek. “I’ll see you later. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
I went on a picnic that day, thinking I’d go home to tell my mom all about it but when I got home, I found my mother packing bags.
“Hunter, I’m leaving.” She cried. “I can’t do this anymore.”
I can remember just watching her pack until I suddenly realized what she was doing was real.
“You can’t leave mom; you can’t leave us.”
My mom took my cheeks into her hands, I remember they were shaking.
“I’ll come back for you and your brother Hunter, let me find somewhere and get settled then we can all live-in peace. Please look after Brody until I come back for you.”
I held on to my mother’s hand. “You can’t do this mom. Please don’t do this.”
I followed my mother down the stairs, and I was begging so loud my father heard. All I can remember from that point was my father yanking at my mom’s hair.
“You’re staying here,” he was yelling. “You think you can just leave your fucking kids? Me? Get back inside you bitch.”
I remember punching my father so hard he let go of my mother’s hair. My mom was free to run so fast she didn’t see the car that was speeding down the street. She didn’t see she was about to get mauled underneath it. But I could. I saw it coming. I saw her mowed down and get thrown under the wheels. I saw the car speed away. Then I saw her lifeless body in the middle of the road. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. All I could do was stare at the body that lay in the road like roadkill and tell myself that it wasn’t my mom. That she got away, she safely crossed that road and she was fine. But I was lying to myself. I was too scared to go to her, too scared to see if she was alive or dead. I just remember the blood, the sound of her scream ringing in my ears before she was hit. I was zombified until my brother pushed past me and screamed for his mom. My dad was about to go out to her, but I shoved him back.
“Take Brody inside and call an ambulance.” I barked at him. “This is all your fucking fault.” Then I ran towards my mother… After I ran to my mom the res
t is all a blur.
I come out of my trance and memory recalling when I feel Louisa’s hand on my shoulder. I put my head in my hands and rub the heels of my hands into my eyes to stop the tears.
“Hunter,” she whispers. I glance up and I can see her tears. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.”
I inhale some courage to carry on. “I hated my father before that, but after that,” I shake my head. “He was dead to me. I’m just glad I’ve got such good friends because if it wasn’t for them and my little brother, I couldn’t see what life was worth living for.”
“I can’t even imagine what you went through.” Louisa cries.
I wipe away her tears with my thumbs. “You can imagine because you lost your mom too, you’re probably the only one that can understand.” I take her hands to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. “I want to be able to deal with it like you Lou, but I can’t. You talk about the memories, but I don’t want memories Lou, I want her. Here. Every day.”
Louisa places her hand on my cheek. “But–”
“No buts.” I interrupt. “I want her to tell me when I’m wrong and when I’m right and when she’s proud of me. I want her here to watch my little brother graduate. I want her here on our wedding day. Seeing her son marry the girl of his dreams because you are baby.” I squeeze her hand. “You are what my dream girl is made of. And I’ve suffered too much pain to ever live a life without someone else that I love. It might not be today, might not be next week, but all I know is that I’m going to marry you, Lou-Lou. I’m going to marry you because I love you so fucking much, I need to hold you right next to my heart. I’m so fucking afraid of losing you. I fear that one day you’ll realize what a dick I am and not want me anymore. I’m afraid that you’ll finally realise that I don’t deserve you.”
“Hunter,” Louisa’s voice is braking. “You do deserve me, don’t say that.”
“I know I don’t.” I admit. “But that don’t mean I won’t try my best to prove to you that one day I might. I may fuck up along the way, but I swear to God I won’t stop trying.”
Louisa clutches at my t-shirt as she cuddles into my chest. I know she’s crying and it’s agony to hear. “You don’t have to try, Hunter.” She sniffs. “You already have my love. There is nothing you can do or say to ever change that.”
I hold onto her so tight I’m afraid to let go. Pouring my heart out to this girl has mentally exhausted me, but more than that, it has relived me of pain at the same time.
My phone rings interutping our moment, and I groan when Louisa loosens her embrace so I can reach into my pocket.
“It’s my brother,” I say when I glance at the screen, then answer.
“Dad’s drunk!” Brody’s voice sounds panicked.
“What?” I say, getting to my feet.
“He’s drunk Hunter! You need to get here right now!” And he hangs up.
I shove my phone into my jeans pocket, find my trainers and push my feet into them quickly.
“What is it?”
I kiss Lou on the lips and rush to the door. “It’s my brother, he needs me.”
Louisa pulls me back. “Do the right thing, Hunter.”
I nod. “Come with me.”
She nods and we both bolt for the door.
Chapter 34
Hunter
The brakes on my car screech as I pull into my father’s driveway. “Stay here, Lou.” I don’t even close the door on my truck as I bolt towards the door.
I hear sobbing coming from the kitchen, so I rush in that direction.
“Brody?” When I find, him cowering on the kitchen floor in the corner of the room, my legs come to an abrupt halt. “Brody.” His names fall out of my mouth in a strangled gasp. I can’t stand to see him hurting like this.
“Dads drunk, Hunt.” He repeats, yelling. “All because he’s given up on life. Given up and trying to get over mom. Given up trying to please you.” He barks.
I wipe a tear from my cheek aggressively. “I’m here, Brody. I’m here.”
“You’re too late, Hunt.” He’s in tears and I can hear the pain in his voice. The sound rips a hole in my heart. “Nothing he does is ever good enough for you. He’s tried so hard, Hunter. And you don’t want to help him. You don’t want to help us!” He cries. “He took away our mom, but if you take away my dad, I’ll never forgive you.”
I try to take his hands but he pushes me away. “Brody calm down, please. Calm down.”
“Fuck you.” He hisses.
His words feel like a swift blow to the gut. I ignore that he’s cursed, and thump my chest. “What do you need from me, Brody?”
“I need my dad, Hunter. I just want my dad.” A sob catches his words, and it’s a couple of seconds before he talks again. “I try my best to help, but he’s getting worse. I can’t do it on my own.”
His words kill me. Cut right into my heart and made me bleed. Why the fuck have I allowed my kid brother to take on this burden just because of self-fucking pride.
“He doesn’t want to depend on me,” he hiccups, “but he has no choice. Has no choice because you won’t help me, you won’t help him.”
Crouching to my knees, I shimmy towards him. “Brody, I will help. For you, I will do anything.”
He pushes my hand away. “No, do it for dad, Hunt. Please. Do it for dad.”
I sit on the kitchen floor beside Brody and pull him into my lap. The tears that fall from his eyes, the suffering that vibrates from his body as he sobs punctures my heart like stab wounds. I can’t help but cry. Can’t help but hold him close and tight. He is my little brother, and I haven’t been there for him. Haven’t been that role model a big brother should automatically be. I let him go through this all alone because I was too blinded by hate and fury to even want to help. He has lost his mom too, not just me. I am more than bad news. I am scum right now.
Brody looks up at me through wet lashes. “He will get better, Hunter, won’t he?”
I kiss the top of Brody’s head. Truth be told, all I know is what the nurses have told me. His cancer has spread like a motherfucker, and to make every second count. I’m not sure if Brody knows how sick dad is, or if he’s holding on to hope.
“I don’t know…” I inhale a deep breath because the lump in my throat won’t let me talk. “He’s just sick. Everyone gets sick, right?”
Brody climbs out of my lap and sits beside me. He wipes away his tears. When he stares at me, I see how red and swollen his eyes are. Brody lets his tears fall silently now and shakes his head slowly.
“He’s sick, but he’s not getting better, is he Hunt?”
I quickly bring him into my arms and squeeze because the guilt I feel towards him weighs so heavy on my heart I’m finding it difficult to breathe.
We stay like this for some time. I don’t let Brody go from my grip until he stops crying.
Brody glances up at me, glassy-eyed and hurting inside. “Maybe if we both look after him, he will get better.”
“Maybe.” I croak.
“Will you go see him? please.”
I swallow and nod at the same time, kiss the side of his head, and get to my feet.
Shit.
I almost drag my feet towards his bedroom door. I take a huge gulp of air before knocking. When there is no answer, I call him instead. “Dad?” Still no reply, so I let myself in. Straight away I see him. Sitting up in his bed. Blanket over his feet, half-drunk bottle of whisky in his lap. He’s been crying I can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t notice me, though. He’s fixated on TV. I take a closer step into the room and glance at what he’s watching. It’s his wedding video. His and my mom’s. My mom’s gentle voice comes through the speakers. Her giggly laugh filling the silence of the room. I close my eyes because my wobbling lip tells me I am about to cry.
“Wasn’t she beautiful.” He says. I open my eyes, and I’m not sure if he’s talking to himself or me because he hasn’t yet acknowledged that I am in the room.
“Hunter, look at
how beautiful she was.” He says softly. I turn away from the screen when I hear my mom’s voice again, and press my hand against the wall for support. It kills me to hear her voice. To look at pictures of her. I know how beautiful she was. She still is to me. I squeeze my eyes closed when I hear her voice again, wishing it would go away.
“Why do you watch it, dad?” I croak.
My dad’s eyes flick from the TV to mine. He looks skinny. Yellow. Like an old man. He’s never looked so bad.
“It was our wedding day,” he says. “The best day of our lives. Why wouldn’t I watch it?”
“But she’s not coming back, dad. Watching the stupid fucking wedding video isn’t going to bring her back.” I rush towards him grapple the TV remote from his hand and throw it at the TV screen. I punch the wall behind me getting angry like I always do. “She’s not ever coming back.” I vent.
“Don’t you think I know that?” My father yells, forcing me to face him. “Don’t you think I lie awake every fucking night knowing that I will never get to see my wife again? That my God damn sons won’t ever get to see their mother again?”
“And who’s fucking fault is that?” I shout. “Who’s fucking fault?”
My dad’s eyes well up. “I’m sorry, kid.” He starts coughing. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t enough when you made a conscious decision dad. Repeatedly.” I prod his shoulder hard and he winces. “You knew you were abusing mom and you enjoyed doing it. Don’t tell me you’re fucking sorry.” My dad’s head bows down, and I can see his lip wobbling. I continue to goad him. “Whose fault was it that she married an abusive asshole who controlled everything she ever fucking did! Whose fault was it that she ran out of this house to try and get away from you because she was so fucking scared. Whose fault was it that she ran out so fast she got mowed down by a fucking car.” I get in his face. “Whose fucking fault is it that me and Brody didn’t even get to say goodbye.” I cry.