Текст книги "Hard to Break"

Автор книги: Bella Jewel

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Shit.

I start running down the halls and there’re patches of it, leading to the bathroom. I kick the bathroom door open and see Dad on the floor, on his back, passed out. It’s not seeing him passed out that makes my heart stop. It’s the odd blue color. I drop to my knees and frantically press my hand near his nose. He isn’t breathing. Oh God, he isn’t breathing.

“Tazen,” I cry out.

He’s already behind me. “Shit.”

“He’s not breathing, what … what do I do?”

“Call an ambulance. Now.”

I push back tears running down my cheeks as I dial 911. Tazen flips my dad to his side and then shoves his fingers into his mouth. I cry out, but he ignores me. He just keeps pressing his fingers inside my dad’s mouth.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“My dad,” I squeak. “He’s not breathing. He’s had too much to drink, but he’s not breathing.”

“Stay calm, ma’am, I’ll send someone right over. What is your address?”

I give it to her and she assures me that someone is on their way. I drop the phone and turn back to Tazen just in time to see my father vomit across the floor. I stare at Tazen who’s kneeling over my dad, finishing a chest compression. I drop to my knees on the floor, pain ripping through my heart as Dad starts wheezing and coughing. Tazen turns him on his side, tilting his head the right way so he can’t choke.

Dad coughs and splutters and Tazen holds him firmly, even when he starts squirming and crying out.

“Stay still. The ambulance is coming,” Tazen orders firmly.

Five minutes later, the paramedics arrive and lift my dad onto a stretcher. One of them is asking me questions, but I’m numb. Tazen answers them for me and then they inform him which hospital they’ll be taking him to. Tazen nods and we both watch them carry him off. When they’re gone, I start rushing to my room to get some things. I need to get to the hospital.

“Your dad is an alcoholic.”

It’s not a question, but it still slams into my heart like a knife being driven in.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Again, not a question.

“I have to get to the hospital,” I say frantically.

“Quinn, baby, look at me.”

I don’t, I throw open my drawers and start pulling out something clean to wear.

“Quinn!”

He takes my hand and I spin around, tears pouring down my cheeks. Tazen’s face is soft as he steps forward and takes me into his arms. “It’s all right, he’s going to be fine. We got here in time, and he’s going to be okay.”

“It’s all my fault,” I cry. “I shouldn’t have gone away for a night. I left him. It’s my fault.”

Tazen flinches.

“Quinn, he’s your parent. You’re not his.”

“I’m all he has,” I yell, pushing out of his arms.

“Quinn…”

“Take me to the hospital, Tazen,” I say, my voice numb. “Take me … please?”

He sighs. “Yeah, come on.”

I walk out to his car, not even noticing the distance to get to it.

I left him alone. I left him and he could have died.

This is all my fault.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

We’re at the hospital for the entire day as they pump Dad’s stomach. Then Tazen takes us home. He wants to stay, but I just need time to process. I tell him I’ll call him and he doesn’t argue. He just kisses me softly and tells me he’ll call. This isn’t his fault, but I can’t focus on anything else right now. I get Dad into his bed. Then I find a spot on the lounge and just sit, staring at nothing, too scared to sleep in case he gets sick again.

I’m tired of living this life, tired of being unable to feel okay or free because of my father and his alcoholic ways. It’s hurting me and it’s hurting him. I’m drowning in guilt, but I’m afraid to leave him to his own devices because he’ll end up dead. A part of me has had enough. I just want to get up and leave. I don’t want to be his caretaker for the rest of my life. I know he needs help, but I don’t know how to get him to accept help. For years I’ve begged and pleaded with him about it, but it’s done no good. He has to choose sobriety for himself, and until he does, all my arguments mean nothing to him.

It seems like there’s just no way out.

I close my eyes and start sinking into an exhausted sleep, when I hear the crashing sounds coming from my father’s room. I push to my feet quickly and rush towards it, only to see him throwing things around. He stops after a minute and clutches his head, then he starts destroying his room again.

“Dad,” I yell, rushing in. “What are you doing?”

He spins to me and his eyes are bloodshot. “My head is pounding. Where’s my alcohol, Quinn?”

“Dad, you nearly died today.”

He glares at me. “I was fine. Where’s my alcohol?”

My heart falls to pieces. “I got rid of it. You have to stop this.”

“That’s not up to you to decide,” he roars so loudly I flinch.

I take a weary step back as he spins and starts kicking things over again. He drops to his knees near his bedside table and jerks the drawer out. Then he reaches in and pulls out a bottle of whiskey that had been hidden there.

“Dad,” I say, coming closer. “You need to stop.”

He unscrews it with shaky, desperate hands. Then he tips his head back and starts swallowing it. My heart cracks wide open now, and pain lashes my body.

“Dad!” I cry, rushing towards him.

He spins on me, glaring. “Don’t you tell me what to do, Quinn. This is my house, understand?”

“No,” I yell. “This is our house. What you’re doing is dangerous and you’re going to kill yourself.”

“Stop telling me what to fucking do!” he roars.

Fear fills my veins. I’ve never seen him like this before. Never. He’s scaring me. I take a hesitant step forward.

“Dad, please, give me the bottle.”

“Will you just get the fuck out?” he barks.

“Dad, you have to stop this. Now.”

His eyes point daggers in my direction. “Who died and made you my fucking mother?”

That hurts. My mom died and made me his fucking mother, because he refuses to take care of himself.

“Mom died,” I whisper. “And instead of taking care of me the way you should, you turned to the bottle. I’m tired of it, Dad. I don’t want to have to do this.”

“Then don’t,” he barks, standing straighter and glaring at me. “Move out, Quinn. I don’t fucking care if you’re not here.”

Ouch, that hurts like hell. It hurts so bad a pained noise is ripped from my throat.

“You’d die without me here,” I whisper because my voice is too shaky to work.

He snorts and laughs loudly. “You’re so sure of that, then get out.”

I shake my head, blinking back my tears. “We’ll talk about this when you’re not so angry. Give me the bottle and get some sleep.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he roars again. He’s never yelled at me like this before.

“Dad,” I try again. “You need to put that bottle down and go to bed.”

“Fuck you, Quinn.”

“Dad,” I say, stepping forward. “You’re done for the night.”

He spins and snarls at me, “No, I’m not.”

“You are!”

Before I know what’s happening he’s raising his arm and roaring, “No, I’m fucking not. Get off my back!”

Then he launches the bottle across the room at me. I don’t have time to duck and it hits me in the temple. I cry out in pain and stumble backwards as it smashes all over the floor. Whiskey sprays up my body and blood trickles down my head. I stumble a few steps and then a burning pain shoots through my foot and I scream. I glance down to see blood gushing out onto the carpet. I stepped on the bottle.

I manage to pull myself away from the glass, but my heart is tearing into a thousand tiny pieces. I look up with tears running down my face at my father who is still panting with rage. He has no remorse over what he’s done; he’s so far gone he doesn’t even realize he’s hurt me. He doesn’t care. Something explodes in my chest, a pain I’ve not felt before in my life.

Pure devastation.

I know I have to get out of there, and I have to do it now. I hop out of the room, towards the front door. Trying to keep it together. Dad growls something at me, but I don’t hear what it is. I have to go. I can’t be near him. He … frightened me. Pain, fear and hurt mix in my chest and I can feel the panic rising. I manage to get myself into my car, and drive into the next street over before I pull over and let it all go.

I cry.

I cry so hard my body shakes and silent sobs rip from my throat because I am too far gone for them to have a sound.

My dad tried to hurt me. He was … violent.

I’ve never been so afraid in my life, never felt such hurt. I clutch the steering wheel and let it all out. It pours from me in waves, exploding from my body like an eruption of agony. When I manage to pull back the tears enough to think, I realize I don’t really have anywhere to go. If I show up like this to Lenny or Oscar, they will lose it. Jace won’t know how to deal with me like this. That leaves only one more person I trust. Tazen.

I pull out my phone and call him a few times, but he doesn’t answer. Not in the right mental state to push, I decide to go somewhere I feel safe. The garage. I put my car into drive, swipe my tears and drive slowly the entire way over there. It’s dark and quiet when I get in, so I unlock the door and slip inside. There’s nowhere for me to sleep, but there’s a shower and a toilet, and I can find some old towels to lie on until I can get hold of someone. I can’t go home, even though I’m so worried about what Dad will do if I’m not there. How sad is that? I’m worried about him when he threw a damned bottle at my head.

I decide to send Lenny a text, coming up with some lie about why I can’t go home. He’ll arrive and probably just think Dad’s drunk again and help him to bed. He doesn’t know Dad went to the hospital today. I don’t want him to know it, either. He doesn’t deserve that extra stress.

Q—Hey Len. I have to work extra late tonight, so is there any chance you can check on Dad, make sure he’s home and in bed?

He replies a minute later.

L—Sure sweetheart.

I breathe a sigh of relief, and then let myself into the office. I’m trying not to think of what happened, because every time I do, it hurts like hell. I just need to focus and figure out what I’m going to do next. First, I need to check my foot and make sure it’s not stitches-worthy. I hop over to the cabinets and I pull out the first-aid kit, then I flick on a light.

I turn my foot and scrunch my nose up. It’s not deep, thank god, but it’s long. Running nearly half the length of my foot. I get to work putting strips on it to hold the skin together, and then I patch it up. Once I’m done with that, I walk into the bathroom and look at my face. My temple is swelling and the beginning of a bruise is forming. How the hell will I explain that one away?

I shower with my foot poking out, and then I find one of Tazen’s work shirts on the shelves. I pull it on and then make a bed on the floor with towels, a sheet and my purse as a pillow. It’s horrible and uncomfortable, but it’s safe. I lie down and try Tazen once more, but he still doesn’t answer. I’ll stay here until he does. As I wind down, my thoughts start invading. My throat gets tight and more tears spring to my eyes as I relive what went down.

My dad tried to hurt me.

My dad … who was once my hero.

Another sob escapes and I curl into a ball. I stay that way until I cry myself to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

My phone rings, jerking me out of a restless sleep. I reach out groggily and see it’s Tazen. My heart lurches as I quickly answer it, putting it to my ear. I need him right now. I need him so badly it hurts. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be. It seems stupid, that up until this point I’ve not spent time with him in his home. If I did, I would have gone straight to him. I’m keeping it together well, right up until I hear his low, husky voice.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “How’re you doing?”

I lose it.

“Tazen,” I croak.

“Quinn?” he says, his voice alert now. “What’s wrong?”

“I … Tazen, I’m hurt. I need you. I … I need you.”

“Are you in pain? Shit, Quinn where are you?”

“I’m…” I swallow. “At the garage.”

“You tried to call me, fuck, angel, I didn’t hear it.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Just come, please.”

“I’m coming, sit tight.”

I hang up and push myself into a sitting position. I tuck my legs up to my chest and rest my chin on my knees as I wait. I can’t stop the thoughts invading my mind, as I think about everything that’s happened. I don’t know if I can go back and see Dad, I don’t know if I can live with him anymore. What’s going to happen next time? He could hurt me severely, or worse, kill me. If that bottle had hit the wrong spot … God. My chest burns at the memory of him throwing it at me, and even though I have cried for hours, I have to fight back more tears now. I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know who to turn to.

As promised, Tazen is running through the garage door only ten minutes later. I push to my feet and walk over, stopping in front of him. As soon as he sees me, rage washes through his face and he hisses, “Who did that to you?”

My bottom lip trembles and his face softens. He steps in closer, wraps his arms around me and kicks the door closed behind him. He lifts me into his arms and walks into the office, sitting down on a chair, with me in his lap.

“Talk to me.”

“Th-th-th-there were problems with Dad last night.”

His entire body turns to stone.

“Tell me,” he rasps. “Fucking tell me he did not do that to your face.”

I press my cheek against his chest, and say nothing.

“Angel,” he says through gritted teeth. “Did your father do that to you?”

“He was angry about having no alcohol. He had a headache and…”

“Shit,” he growls, cutting me off. “Fucking shit.”

“He … he’s never … he’s never done something like that before.”

“You need to tell me what he did.”

I curl my fingers into his shirt and close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“When we came home, he woke up and demanded alcohol. I thought I’d thrown it all away, but he had some whiskey stashed in his room. I tried to stop him and he said some”—my voice hitches—“horrible things. Then he just lifted his bottle and threw it at my head. It smashed all over the floor and I stepped on it…”

“What?” Tazen whispers, his voice so hoarse it’s no longer working.

“It’s fine, I’m…”

“Show me.”

He moves me without warning and twists, putting me down onto the desk. He kneels down, taking my foot. I don’t bother protesting as he unwraps it and stares down at the wound. His jaw tics and he stares blankly at it for so long, I begin to panic. His thumb gently runs over the ugly slice and then he wraps it back up before standing abruptly.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Tazen,” I cry, panic rising in my chest.

He stares at me, and there’s fire in his brown eyes. “I said,” he grinds out, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Please,” I beg. “Don’t hurt him. He’s sick.”

“He hurt his child, he threw a bottle at her head, then she sliced her foot open on its broken pieces. He might be sick, but he will not get away with violence.”

“Tazen,” I cry, standing on wobbly legs. “He’s my dad, he’s all I have. Don’t hurt him.”

He stares me right in the eyes, but his expression has softened slightly. “I won’t hurt him, Quinn, I would never do that to you, but this has to end.”

I open my mouth to protest but he steps forward, curling his fingers around the back of my head. He brings me close so our foreheads are touching. “Trust me, angel.”

I nod and close my eyes. He pulls back and kisses my forehead, before disappearing out the door. I hobble back to the chair and sit down, rubbing my stomach to break down the nerves swelling there. I wait like that for what seems like hours, maybe it is, my legs go numb and I’m sure I only breathe enough air to keep me conscious, because the rest of the time I hold my breath.

I hear the sound of the main garage door opening.

I stand up and rush as quickly as I can over to it. My eyes widen when I see Tazen and my father standing in the entrance. Tazen has his hand on my father’s shoulder and he shoves him forward, not roughly but giving a clear message that he isn’t going to take any shit.

“Quinnie,” Dad whispers, his bottom lip trembling as his eyes scan over my face.

“Are you seeing this, Rob?” Tazen says in a hard tone. “Do you see her face?”

“Tazen,” I say.

His eyes dart to mine. “Quinn, you’re going to stop babying him right now and let him see what he’s become. If you love him, trust me, this is for the best.”

He’s right, somewhere down deep inside I know this. I have to stop feeling sorry for my dad. I have to stop feeling guilty for trying to move on with my life. It’s time I step up and make my dad get the help he needs, no matter what it takes.

“I’m so sorry, Quinn,” Dad rasps. “I wasn’t thinking. My head … it hurt so badly. I just needed a drink to take the edge off.”

I stare at him, and usually I’d forgive him, but I can’t until he takes responsibility for this. If I don’t let him, he’ll never change.

“You hurt me, Dad, and you scared me.”

His lip trembles again but I keep it together. “I didn’t mean…”

“That doesn’t matter,” I rasp, fighting back emotion. “It doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean to, you did. You did and you need to admit how bad your alcoholism is and change. I can’t be your babysitter anymore, I can’t be your parent and I can’t keep picking up the pieces. If you love me, if you’re truly ashamed of what you did, then you’ll go and get help.”

His head drops and a tear runs down his cheek and drips off his nose. “I never … I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” I say, because it’s the truth. “But if you want to prove to me you’re willing to learn from this and change, then get the help you need.”

He looks up at me, then to Tazen. “This boy,” he begins. “He knows a place that I can go … get the help I need.”

I look to Tazen. “You do?”

He nods. “My dad was in there for a while.”

Tazen’s dad was an alcoholic. Our eyes meet and something sparks between us … it’s understanding.

“Did it help?” I ask hopefully.

Tazen shakes his head. “My uncle busted him out before they got the chance to make it work, but Rob is going to stay in there, aren’t you, Rob? It’s one of the best facilities in the country.”

My dad nods.

“I’ve given them a call. He is going straight down there. I’ve got him in a six-month program.”

“I don’t … how much does that cost?”

Tazen’s eyes soften. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Tazen…”

“You don’t,” he leans in closer, “need to worry about that.”

I swallow and nod weakly, so humbled by his help. He reaches out, capturing my hand. “Get your purse, baby. He needs you right about now.”

I do as he asks, and get my purse.

Then I take his hand and we take my dad to get the help he needs.

Finally.

*   *   *

Tazen and I take Dad to the rehab center. I’m still uncomfortable about the entire situation. I’m still upset and confused over what happened between Dad and me, but I’m also uncomfortable with the fact that Tazen is paying for it. I mean sure, we’ve got something solid between us but it is such a massive expense.

I would have found a way though, even if he didn’t. After what happened, I know this is the only place Dad can be now. I have a pain etched deep down in my heart at the thought of him being alone, but I no longer have a deep sense of guilt. He needs this place, and I need to figure out how to live my own life. I won’t sell his shack, I’ll clean it up with the money from the sale of the garage so when he gets out he has a place to live.

Me … I’m finding my own place.

It’s time for me to move on.

Dad tells Tazen and me that he doesn’t want us to take him inside, that he would rather do it alone. That hurts me, but I don’t argue. I don’t have it in me to argue. When he hugs me, I’m stiff as a board, but I manage to pat his back lamely. I don’t cry, in fact, I’m not sure I have any tears left. He hurt me, he stole something from me I’m not sure I’ll get back easily. I need time to process all of that.

“Good luck,” I say. It’s all I can say.

“I’m sorry, Quinnie,” he says on a whisper. “I’ll prove to you I want to change.”

I nod. “I hope so, Dad.”

I watch my father disappear inside the large building and then I turn to Tazen. I don’t know what my expression says, but it must say a lot because he reaches out and cups my jaw in his hands. He steps closer, treating me as if I’m china and I’m about to break. “Are you doin’ okay there, angel?”

I look up into his eyes. “It’s the best thing for him.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

I look away, but he tilts my head so I’m forced to meet his eyes again. “I’ll be okay, Tazen.”

“Are we going to have problems with me doing this?”

I sigh. “I can’t let you pay for something like that … we’re together, yes, but … that’s a lot of money.”

I hesitate and he jumps in.

“I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to pay attention because I won’t say it again. First, I make more money than you could begin to imagine, so the expense for this is nothing to me and it’s the least I can do after buying out the garage.”

My heart swells. It swells and explodes.

“Second,” he goes on. “I’ve been in your situation, angel. You might not know it looking at me, but I know how it feels to live in a difficult situation…”

Now my interest is piqued, but I say nothing and let him continue.

“Third.” He leans in close, pulling me to him. “I’ve had a lot of women but none of them have managed to get under my skin the way you have. You drive me batshit crazy and make me feel fucking incredible all at the same time. I don’t know if we’ll go far, I don’t know if it’ll last, but I hope to god it does because you’re changing me. I need that to be enough for you right now. I need you to let me help.”

Something beautiful and warm explodes in my chest, something that coats all the ugly and makes me feel something I haven’t felt in my entire life … joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. And I want more of it. I want as much as I can take. So, with a smile, I say the only thing I can, “Tazen Watts … are you officially asking me to go steady?”

He bursts out laughing.

I think that’s a yes.