The Dark Light of Day (The Dark Light of Day 1)

My heart froze to hear him speak so coldly about her.

“It wasn’t even hard to make the damn trailer explode. Those meth kitchens usually wind up doing it on their own anyway. They’re like ticking time bombs. The tricky part was getting the detonator to cooperate, getting it to explode just as she knocked on the door.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “When that fucker went up, you couldn’t tell body parts from trailer parts.”

“You killed my grandmother because... because you wanted me to fucking live with you?” I spat.

“You make it sound so simple. No, I didn’t just want you to live with me. I wanted to be your hero. I wanted you to see how much I loved you, so you would love me back.”

It was too much to process, especially with Georgia sleeping only feet away from a crazed Owen with a loaded shotgun. I steadied my gaze and numbed myself. Georgia was my only priority. I had to get through this for her.

“Nobody has ever wanted that with me before. To be my hero.” I hoped I wouldn’t set him off, or raise his suspicion. “I’ll go with you now. Let’s go. It’s not too late.” I could hear my voice trembling as I spoke.

“Patience, baby,” he cooed. “We gotta wait for Jake to get back first. That bitch has a one way ticket to hell, and his flight leaves today.” Owen licked his lips. “I want to watch your face when I shoot his heart out of his chest.”

The front door opened and the screen door smacked closed. Owen put an arm around my neck and a dirty hand over my mouth. The burning sensation that used to overwhelm me came back in full force, and the pain of it clouded my vision. Owen dragged me a few steps sideways towards the living room, standing with his back against the wall.

I realized then that I didn’t really care what happened to me. I had to protect my family. I was unimportant compared to the people I loved, the people who loved me. I would die for them. My purpose had been fulfilled—I’d had my Georgia. She was the only positive contribution I’d made to the hate-filled world I occupied.

My only hope was that she wouldn’t have to suffer in life the way I had.

Owen made a rolling turn off the wall to face the living room, and I took my opportunity. I broke from his hold and jumped on his back. I tried to wrap my arms around his neck, but I was no match for Owen’s size and strength. He easily bucked me off his back. I crashed to the hard wood floor and landed on my tailbone. I heard the crunch and felt a sharp pain run up my spine.

Owen didn’t take his eyes off of me as he shot blindly into the living room. The blast from the gun shook the walls. It felt more like an explosion than a shotgun firing. I covered my ears to block out the high-pitched ringing that overtook me. I couldn’t hear anything.

“Jake!” I cried out.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Owen staring into the living room. He let the shotgun drop to his side. It slipped from his hands onto the floor. His eyes were wide, his hands shaking.

“Jake!” I cried again. I used every bit of adrenaline I had to rush past Owen and into the living room. He didn’t try to stop me. “Jake?”

I still couldn’t hear. I didn’t know if he’d responded.

And then, I saw.

Of all the things I had been through in my life—the starvation, the beatings, abuse after abuse, losing everyone who had ever meant anything to me in one way or another—none of these things could have prepared me for the devastating sight of my daughter crumpled on the floor against the front door, with her yellow Curious George t-shirt turning a deep, wet red.

I ran to her and slipped her limp body into my arms, propping her up on my knees. I wiped the hair from her face. “Georgia!” I screamed trying to wake her up. Her eyes were closed. There was so much blood. I felt her neck for a heartbeat, but couldn’t feel anything beyond my own.

“Mama,” she said. It was weak. She was alive but barely. Help. She needed help. I couldn’t lose her.

I couldn’t let my Georgia die.

The front door opened again, and this time Jake stepped into the living room, a yellow envelope in his hands. “Bee—where the fuck are you? We need to fucking talk—now!”

He’d barely finished his sentence when his gazed dropped to where I held Georgia on the floor. He dropped the envelope, scattering black and white photos all over. In one stride, he was kneeling next to us, pulling Georgia into his arms.

“Owen,” I said, looking to the place where Owen had stood just seconds earlier. The shotgun on the floor was the only evidence he’d ever been here.

I pulled open the door and we rushed from the house. Before we got to the truck, Bethany tore into the yard in a bright white Mercedes SUV and jumped out of the driver’s side, running toward us. She had the start of a black eye, and blood was dripping from the corner of her lip. Her mouth fell open when she saw Georgia in Jake’s arms. “I... I came to warn you... I tried to stop him...”

“Open the fucking door!” Jake yelled.

Bethany swung open the passenger side, and I jumped up into her car. Jake laid Georgia over my lap carefully, so carefully. He jumped behind the wheel as Bethany fell into the back seat.

Instead of using the main roads, Jake drove through a strawberry field and the dairy queen parking lot before turning onto the dirt road that led to the back of the hospital.

“Jake, I don’t think she’s breathing!” I shouted. I couldn’t feel air coming through her nose, and I couldn’t see her chest rising.

I wished the hospital were closer.

Jake accelerated Bethany’s car to speeds his old truck could’ve never come close to. He reached out and grabbed Georgia’s hand. “We’re almost there baby, hold on, Gee.”

She wasn’t responding anymore.

“Dear God... what has he done?” Bethany cried from the back seat.

Jake managed to turn the thirty minute ride to the hospital into a little over ten minutes. They were still the longest ten minutes of my life.

The SUV was barely in park in front of the hospital when Jake hopped out and ran around to my side opening my door, removing Georgia from my lap. “Daddy’s got you, baby girl. Daddy’s got you. You’re gonna be okay, Gee.”

We ran through the sliding doors to an empty waiting room and an even emptier reception area. Jake burst through a door marked Hospital Staff Only and I followed quickly. We ran until we saw a group of nurses sitting around a vending machine. “We need help!” he roared. “Get a fucking doctor now!”

The nurses sprang to life when they laid eyes on my lifeless daughter. One wheeled out a gurney while another paged a doctor. He arrived seconds later and helped us lay her on the gurney. “She was shot. That bastard shot her,” I told them. Somehow I didn’t think it would be as obvious to them as it was to me.

They placed a mask over her face with a blue ball pump attached to it. Then they were running, the nurses wheeling her down the hallway and squeezing the pump while the doctor shouted more instructions. They disappeared behind a set of double doors.

When we tried to follow them through, another nurse stopped us. “Let them help her,” she said, halting us with her hand.

“Get out of my fucking way!” Jake yelled. The nurse held her position, even under Jake’s intimidation.

“They can’t help her with you hovering over her, sir,” she said calmly. “Please, have a seat in the waiting room. The second we know something, I will come tell you myself. I promise.” It was a fight we couldn’t win. I needed to be in there. I needed to tell her it was all going to be okay. What if it wasn’t? What if the last thing my baby girl saw was the doctor and nurses working over her? What if her last feeling in life was fear?

We relented, but only because we didn’t have any other options. The nurse led us to a small room with a worn-out pink love seat with frayed edges and a faded white wicker coffee table. Instead of magazines, there were bibles scattered on the table, in three different versions. A beige phone hung on the wall with a long tangled cord dangling beneath, and a rotary dial that had no numbers.

Bethany met us in the waiting room and started dialing on her phone, “I’m going to call Cole. He needs to find Owen and lock him up before he does anything else.”

Jake swept the bibles onto the floor and shook the table. “He needs to do more than fucking lock him up. He needs to put the motherfucker down!” Bethany flinched, nodding and running toward the entrance as she barked orders into her phone.

I sat on the couch and held my head in my hands. I couldn’t lose my baby. She was my reason for being. I loved her more than I thought was possible for anyone to love, not just myself.

“What the fuck happened?” Jake asked, pacing the room.

“It’s my fault,” I said. “I should have protected her.”

“It’s not your fault he’s fucking insane.”

“If I would have just told you the truth, if you would have known…”

“What truth?”

“The truth about Georgia,” I said. “The truth about Owen.”

“The pictures,” he said.

Then, I remembered the black and white photos he’d dropped earlier. They were the pictures I’d taken after Owen raped me. The pictures I had taken for Jake, to fuel his hatred of Owen.