Breaking the Bully

I’m crawling across the carpet on my hands and knees, searching for a weapon I can use in my defense when I glance out the window and see Moore staring back at me, his face a mask of horror.

* * *

Moore

What I’m seeing just isn’t possible.

It can’t be real.

My head won’t accept it. Not until her terror-filled eyes meet mine through the window and the truth ransacks my stomach, leaves no doubt that this is real life. Allie’s father is not just beating her. He’s trying to kill her. Her mouth is bloody, one of her eyes beginning to swell, arms and legs visibly weakened. I can barely fucking process it before my body is springing into action, desperate to defend her. To put a stop to the worst thing I could have ever imagined. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Blistering hot rage takes over.

I kick in the front door and lunge to get between Allie and her father. His fist is raised, but it pauses on a downswing when he sees me, his momentary confusion giving me the time I need to knock him out cold. It only takes one right uppercut from someone his own size and he goes down, his blank, glassy eyes staring at nothing, mouth agape. It’s not satisfying enough. Nothing will ever be enough. I want to flip him onto his back and keep wailing, but my Allie is struggling for breath behind me and she’s all I can think about.

Turning, I approach her, my gut roiling violently. Cataloguing all of the cuts and purpling skin. No. No. Who could do this to her? Who could lay a finger on her in anything but reverence?

Get her out of here.

Rasping her name, I reach down to pick up her, but she flinches and scoots back, bringing her body up against the wall. “Don’t touch me, bully.”

Those words rip the soul clean out of my body.

My hands drop limply to my sides and two years come rushing back, hitting me in the chest like line drives. Every word, every action. Everything I did to make her life harder when this? This is what she’s been dealing with at home?

“Allie…” My voice is in shreds. All of me is in shreds. “I’m sorry. I came here to apologize. For everything.”

She puffs a humorless laugh, testing her cut lip with the tip of her tongue. “Bet you weren’t expecting to see this.”

“If I knew this was happening, I would have been here a long time ago. I would have stopped it.”

Her expression can only be described as perplexed. Maybe even a little pissed. “You are not my savior, Moore. You are my enemy.”

“I am not your enemy.” Those words barely make it out of me, my chest hurts so fucking bad. “Don’t say that.”

Shakily, she uses the wall to try and stand.

I shoot forward to help her, but she recoils and it’s a dagger straight into the center of my throat. Nothing less than I deserve, though, isn’t it? Her distrust of me is completely my doing. I’ve made her hate me.

There has to be some way to fix what I’ve done. Please God, let there be a way. But right now, my main concern is her physical safety. Knowing it has been in jeopardy all along is unbearable. I only made the decision to come here tonight a few hours ago. What if I didn’t? What if I arrived an hour later? The possibilities are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

From his sprawl on the floor, her father groans, shifting slightly.

“We need to get you out of here,” I say, anxious to get her free of this place. “Now, Allie. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

She’s standing now. Leaning against the wall and cradling one arm to her stomach, regarding me steadily. “How do I know I’m safe with you?”

It’s so much worse that her question is earnest. Not meant to wound me. Not meant to be snarky. She genuinely doesn’t know if I pose a threat.

It guts me where I stand.

“You are the safest with me,” I say thickly, cursing myself. Wanting to erase the last two years so badly, my hands shake. “Please believe me. I’d die before hurting you. I’d never, Allie. I’d never.”

Her father rolls over onto his back and slurs a few words, before losing consciousness again. Still, the sound of the older man’s voice seems to break through to Allie, spur her into planning mode. “I…maybe you can just give me a ride to…a motel maybe?” She pushes off the wall, her gait uneven as she walks toward the stairs. “I need some things from my room.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her we don’t have time, but I’m just grateful she’s trusting me enough to leave with me, so I don’t argue. I just wait until she’s halfway up the stairs, then whip off the curtain sash, tying her father’s hands behind his back, in case he wakes up before we leave. I have no problem knocking him out a second time. Allie has seen enough violence for one night, though.