Faith (Rescue Me, A Contemporary Romance) (5 page)

He directed his fury at the screen and the rusty screws stubbornly stopping him from jumping out and getting help. He pulled at them and he could feel them cutting into his fingertips, making them bleed against the screen. Wonder if I’ll have to get a tetanus shot he thought, and then cursed himself for thinking so crazy. Who gave a fuck if he got tetanus if they were all killed by the crazy motherfucker fighting with his dad in the hall right now?

He kept pulling at the screws, willing them to let go. Finally one released. Then the other. It was enough. He shoved his fist through the opening the two missing screws made. He forced the screen to bend and as it did it made a horrible, loud screeching sound. He froze. Looked at his mom. She had her finger to her lips, urging silence. For one horrible moment they both stood in place, waiting to see if there was any change to the sounds of battle on the other side of the door.

Waiting to see if someone else would run around the house, alerted to the sounds of someone escaping out the window.  When no one appeared, he kept on pushing at the screen. Making it give the leeway he needed to climb out.

Finally he felt like he could get through. It would be tight, but he had always been a small guy, taking after his petite mom rather than his bear of a dad. For the first time he was actually grateful that he couldn’t seem to put on weight or inches. Grateful that he was small and looked a lot younger than his 15 years.

“Please come with me mom,” he begged her one more time. It didn’t feel right to slip out of this nightmare and leave his mom behind in it.

She shook her head no and waved him on.

“Call the police Liam,” she told him one more time. As if he needed reminding.

With one last look at her frightened, tear stained face he dragged his chair over to the window to give him more leverage to stand on and he crouched on the sill, standing on the bent crushed screen, poised to jump.

“Jump,” his mom shouted suddenly. “Jump Liam!”

He only had time to see his bedroom door creaking open as she tried to hold it closed. He could see a ringed hand pushing its way through the crack and gripping the door. A hand that wasn’t his dads.

He jumped.

As she saw her son leap out his window and heard the muffled thud as he hit the snow covered ground, Faith felt only relief. All her fear and shock at the horror of the situation was flooded with a deep thankful sigh of relief. Her son was out. No matter what would happen to her and Mac, at least Liam was safe.

She was jolted back to her own reality by the shuddering insistent push of the door against her shoulder. She felt this strangers hand scramble to her shoulder and grip tightly. If she’d heard someone describing the situation she wouldn’t have believed it, but she could smell him. She could actually the smell the stink coming off him. The stink of adrenaline and the bitter copper of blood was forcing its way into her nostrils and it made her stomach turn with dread.

Faith pushed with all her might, hoping she could break his wrist in the door. She heard him yelp and saw his hand recoil.

“Mac!” She screamed. “Mac?”

At the sound of her voice the hand snapped back and the door slammed with a thud. She fell against it, trying to lock it again but it was too far broken. The door jamb itself was splintering where it had been battered.

She held her breath trying to stay as silent as possible. Was Mac out there? Had he gone for help? She couldn’t imagine that he would have left her and Liam in this room, defenseless and alone. It was possible that he hadn’t known she was there. It’s not like they’d had a moment to discuss battle strategy before this crazy onslaught of terror had begun. She’d operated on pure animal instinct. Throwing herself into Liam’s room, trying to stop in from unknowingly putting himself into harms way.

He wouldn’t have left her. She knew that. Mac had been her soul mate, her reason for living, for the last 20 years. They’d met after high school in Boston. They were both from the rough and tumble south side. Her a little less rough, a little less tumble than he was. He’d loved her from the moment he saw her. That’s what he’d always told her and she believed him. She knew it was true because she knew him, knew his heart, as well as she knew her own heart. He wouldn’t leave her. No more than she had left him to run to the neighbors with Liam. He had to be out there.

The only way he would let this monster get this close to her would be if he was hurt. How could that be? The thought confused her, even though she knew he was just a man, he could be hurt. She knew the logic of it even as her mind refused to believe it. Mac just wasn’t the type of guy who got hurt. He finished fights, he didn’t lose them. It had always been that way. When it came to defending his family, nothing would be able to stop Mac. But, if that was true then why was the door shuddering at the edges again? Why was this crazy man trying to force his way into this room?

“Faaaiiithhhh…” He whispered, just on the other side of the door.

She jerked her head away from the door. Away from that voice.

“Faith Bryneeeee” He gave a pigs squeal to the last syllable of her surname.

“Stop it!” she screamed. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stand hearing his voice say her name.

He answered her with laughter. Then a polite knock on the door.

“Mrs. Byrne there’s a Mr. Asher here to meet a Mr. Liam Byrne. Is he in?”

Her face went pale. This animal knew her son’s name. He knew this was his bedroom. Why did he know that? Did he know that Liam had escaped? Was he playing with them with this crazy butler impression? She stayed silent. All her weight pressed against the door. Praying it stayed closed until Liam got the police here.

The door banged again. He was pounding on it now, using both his fists. Where was Mac?

“Open up bitch. You and I need to have a little conversation. Parent to parent. You met my angel earlier this evening. Your son almost killed her, the way I hear it told around the campfire. Open up.” He kicked the door to emphasize his words.

Faith was in shock. This was because of the accident? This was Emily’s father? No wonder the girl had
seemed scared and evil. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

No sooner had she thought the girl’s name when Faith saw her face appear outside the broken bedroom window. She was as sad and solemn standing outside in the dark with only the light from the bedroom casting an eerie glow to her face.

“I told you,” she said. “I told you and him to be careful.”

Faith just stared at her. Her mind wouldn’t accept it. It felt like a nightmare. Something she could wake up from. Nobody was terrorized over a fender bender. It just couldn’t be happening. But, even as she repeated it to herself her body was jolted with a sharp push from the door. He was kicking it down.

She couldn’t just sit there. This wasn’t a nightmare, it was real and she needed to do something. Earlier that evening Mac had teasingly warned her not to be a hero. She’d been quick enough to assure him that she wasn’t a hero, but now only a couple of hours later she prayed she could be.

She’d saved one son tonight, now it was up to her to save her other child. The baby growing inside her. They didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl. She and Mac had wanted to be surprised so they’d asked not to be told. Now she wished she knew if she was fighting to save her daughter or her younger son.

Frantically she looked around the room for something to do battle with. Something sharp or heavy, she thought. She’d never cursed her son’s distaste for sports until this moment. Why hadn’t they forced Liam to take up baseball or at least bought him a bat to encourage him? Now she was left with nothing to defend herself. In frustration she threw a heavy book at Emily, still standing silently at the window, just staring in at her as if she was watching a macabre play or television show.

“Get the fuck out of here you bitch,” Faith screamed at her. “Why are you doing this to us?”

Even as she screamed it she knew it didn’t matter. Maybe this crazy father and daughter duo waited for a reason to attack, no matter how small, or maybe it was random, they’d target anyone who made eye contact with them on a bad day. Maybe their minor accident had set them off in some deep disturbed way.

She had no way of knowing what had really started this psychotic time bomb ticking, but that didn’t mean she wanted this crazy teenager staring at her while she fought for her life. She might not be able to keep the father out, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to roll over and play dead for the daughter, a girl barely older than her own son.

With a grunt she pushed the dresser in front of the door. God bless this old house she thought. The door was cracking, but it was withstanding a lot of abuse. It was holding on. It would take that monster a little effort to really knock it down. And the dresser should help. It should buy us some time.

The door blocked for now she lunged, screaming, at the window. She flew at Emily who stood there staring at her a moment in shock. It was clear the girl hadn’t expected her to fight back so viciously. Had she really expected Faith to just sit back and let her and her psychotic father to ruin her life by hurting the only people she loved?

Her hands and arms were outstretched almost without her realizing it. They were like two arrows bound for Emily’s neck, her heart, her eyes. Anything they could hurt or strike at they would. Her hands were weapons, fueled by adrenaline and rage.

She reached through the broken window, just as Emily turned and started to run. With a primal scream Faith leaped out the window the way that Liam had done bare minutes before and with a cry fell into the snow and ice below. She twisted her ankle standing up, but she barely felt the sharp stab of pain as she lurched to her feet and started to run around the house after Emily.

She couldn’t think what had happened to Mac inside. Couldn’t pause to wonder what would happen when Emily’s father managed to come through the bedroom door. At this moment all of her fear and hatred and disbelief at the horrific turn of events was concentrated on one person. Emily. She raced across the yard screaming her name, “Emily!”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the front door opening across the street and next door. Her neighbors were coming out onto their porches, eyes wide with shock at the site of her running screaming in her yard. Finally they had responded to the commotion. What had they thought was going on behind closed doors of her home when they had been doing battle with the crazy man? Domestic violence? Were they just trying to stay out of it? Well, w
elcome to the party she thought.

“Help!” She cried loudly, “We’re being attacked. Call 911! Call 911!”

She shouted and screamed, standing still finally now, appealing to her shocked innocent neighbors where they stood in their doorways and windows. Was the whole street at alert now?

Farther down the block she heard Liam cry, “Mom! I called the police. Are you okay? Where’s dad?”

Relieved she turned in his direction and drank in the sight of him standing in the brightly lit doorway of their favorite neighbor, Mr. Jackson. Bill Jackson was a big man; a logger, and as such he was even rougher and tougher than her own husband. She could see him now coming out from behind Liam clutching his rifle and coming down the street at a run. Finally some help!

It seemed like finding it had taken hours, but she supposed it had only been minutes since Liam had knocked on Bill’s door and told him what was happening. She wouldn’t be bitter that she and Mac had had to wait for this help. She only knew that she needed to find Mac now. His absence was confusing and frightening. She couldn’t face the thought of what it might mean that he wasn’t out here with her.

And where was Emily? That little bitch had bolted like a scared cat and now she was nowhere to be found. At the thought she heard a car starting up from behind her, on the other side of the garage. No wonder they hadn’t been able to see it from Liam’s window when this nightmare first started.

She turned at the noise and screamed for Bill, “It’s them!” she pointed at the car. “Bill, they’re getting away. Bill, help!”

She pointed breathlessly, feeling completely powerless. They couldn’t just drive away could they? In answer she heard the distant wail of sirens coming closer. Finally, the cavalry. But would they be too late?

Bill was streaking toward her. Running as fast as he safely could down the icy streets with a weapon. As she ran she could hear him calling to the other neighbors who were still just standing in shock on their porches, mouths open at the scene playing out before them.

“Alan, Pete, Lloyd!”He called in fury, “Don’t just stand there.  Grab your weapons! The Byrne’s are in trouble. Help us for god’s sake!”

Jolted into action by his words and the sound of the app
roaching sirens, she could see her neighbors erupting into a flurry of action. Beyond caring, she screamed and ran at the silver Toyota that was spinning out in the roundabout at the end of their street. He was trying to turn around and get away. She couldn’t let him get away, not without understanding why and who had swept in and tried to destroy her family!

She slipped and slid on the icy streets as she tried to keep advancing toward the beat up car. Behind the wheel she could see a man grinning and next to him sat Emily, her face a mask of terror as she stared through the windshield at Faith. The man hit the gas and pointed the car at Faith where she stood in the middle of the road.