Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

“What address are you at?”

I stammer through the information, my breaths coming faster and faster, white puffs in the darkness.

“Is he still there?” the operator asks again.

“I don’t know.”

“Where are you, Finlay?”

“Outside.” A dry sob builds in my chest, the memories of what happened flooding me like a tsunami and robbing my legs of their strength. I drop to the freezing ground, as a cry tears from me. “Help… me.”

Devastation rocks me to my core, making my stomach cramp painfully.

“Help is on the way. They’ll be there any second. Just stay on the line with me. Okay, Finlay?”

Lights flash at the front of the house, casting down the left side. I suck in a breath and choke on the air as another cry tears from me.

“The officers are on the scene,” the operator says. “Can you see them?”

I nod, unable to will my body to stand.

A man comes around the side of the house, and fear claws my heart to raw pieces. My breaths slam against the back of my throat, strangled sounds the only noise I can make.

ETHAN

After the shit night of sleep I’ve had, I sit out on the porch, nursing a cup of coffee.

My eyes are locked on the horizon as the sun changes the sky from black to blue. I was restless, as if I’d forgotten something while the weird sensation kept growing in my chest.

Fuck. What a night.

It was weird as shit.

Letting out a tired sigh, I finish off the rest of the coffee before heading inside to paint the living room walls. I’ve chosen an eggshell color, not wanting regular white.

I’m done with one of the walls when I hear footsteps. Dad appears in the doorway, his eyes instantly locking on me.

“You’re here early?” I mention as I set the paintbrush down. “Want some coffee?”

“Sure.” He comes inside, looking at the wall I just gave a final coat. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. Didn’t sleep much last night. I had this weird feeling something was wrong.”

“That’s all it was?” Dad asks as he glances around the place before his eyes settle on me.

“Yeah. Probably the full moon,” I chuckle as I bring him a cup.

“You’re getting a lot done,” he says before taking a sip of coffee.

“Come look.” I head to the guest restroom. “I finished yesterday.”

Dad inspects the work I did, then nods. “Good job. Looks much better.”

“Are you heading to the hardware store?” I ask, walking back to the living room.

“No. I’m here to help. You have me the whole day.”

My lips curve up. “Really?”

He pats my shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll get started on the porch.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t counted my blessings. Unlike other father-son relationships I’ve heard of, Dad always had time for Eli and me. He taught us everything we know.

“Will Mom bring us lunch?” I ask, a hopeful tone to my voice.

Dad chuckles. “I was thinking we could meet Eli for a bite to eat.”

“Sounds good.”

I get back to painting while Dad starts measuring the porch so we can rebuild it. The worn wood is bound to give way with the next storm that blows through Southport.

We work in silence but having Dad nearby calms the restless feeling.

My eyes keep drifting to Dad, watching him move around the porch, and my chest fills with pride that I’m the son of such a great man.

It’s no secret I think the world of my parents. My mom’s the most caring person I know, and Dad’s a pillar of strength.

I’ve heard the rumors around town, though. After Dad and Eli killed the two men who attacked Quinn, the fear for the Jackson’s slowly trickled through Southport.

It also doesn’t help that the Jackson men all have a trademark danger vibe. It’s because we don’t tolerate shit, and we sure as fuck won’t back down from a fight.

It was one of the first things Dad taught us. We have a right to protect our loved ones and ourselves, even if it means killing in self-defense.

I hope I’m never faced with the hell Eli and Quinn were put through, but if trouble ever comes knocking, I’ll do the same as Dad and Eli – I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

Chapter 4

FINLAY

Curled up on the edge of the bed, I stare at the generic carpet of the hotel room.

After I told the police what happened, and I endured the poking and prodding from the hospital, I packed my clothes and got out of the house. The police officers were nice to stay with me while I packed before dropping me off at the hotel.

He left no evidence behind, though. Except for my memories, the internal examination showing signs of penetration, and the initial discomfort between my legs, it’s like he was never there. The mattress he brought, the restraints, the clothes he cut from my body… he took everything with him. It makes me feel vulnerable and unsafe.