Page 6 of InfraRed

“You don’t understand, Graham. I—wecannotput her out.” He grips my arm, panic swimming in his dark depths.

“Why? Give me one reason to allow that soul-sucking excuse of a woman to continue to pollute the home my mother created with her toxicity.”

He sighs, walks away from me, and falls into a chair. His head drops into his palms, and the most agonized sigh I’ve ever heard falls from his lips. Then his eyes meet mine.

And with four words, what I want goes to hell.

Casey

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved her dad more than life itself. Then, one day, her mom packed her up and told the girl they were leaving. The dad pretended to be tough, but as the little girl cried in his arms, she knew she heard him crying, too. The mom demanded the little girl stop crying because they had to go, so the dad let go of her, promising he would see her soon.

That little girl was me, and my dad couldn’t keep his promise.

My mom claimed my dad was abusive. She told the court he was an addict and an alcoholic who was violent, assaulting her both physically and sexually in volatile outbursts. She even told them he hurt me.

None of it was true.

My dad tried to argue that it was a lie, and I tried to tell them the same, but no one would listen to us. Dad had a small-time, two-hundred-dollar-an-hour attorney fighting against Maxwell Davis’s team of high-powered attorneys.

For three years, the only way I could see Dad was through supervised visits or when I stayed with my grandparents over the summer. More often than not, those monthly visits were missed because he was on the road to pay the court-ordered child support that was so high that he could barely afford rent afterward, and he was seldom free for more than a week during those summers in Kentucky.

But every time we saw each other again, we’d cling to each other. Dad would hug me as if he thought I’d disappear, and I would beg him to take me with him when it was time to go. I know the request broke him because he was helpless to do anything. Not that he didn’t try. Every spare penny he had went toward fighting the endless battle.

When the supervised visitation was lifted, Dad was awarded joint custody. I was so happy I could finally see him more often, but when we got home that day, Mom was quick to snatch me away, digging her nails into my arm before tossing me across my room. She told me not to get too excited because Maxwell would make sure Dad stayed too busy to see me and that Dad couldn’t quit because then he couldn’t pay child support. Either way, she won because if he couldn’t pay, he’d be put in jail.

That became a constant threat over the years. She trained me well. I never told Dad about her verbal or physical abuse. I became a pro at hiding the bruises and wearing a smile.

The worst part of it all, is I never blamed my mom because she was right. I was the reason her life didn’t go as planned. If not for me, she and my dad would’ve led very different lives. They were teenagers who shouldn’t have been forced to have me, but Mom said her parents, though absent themselves, wouldn’t let her get rid of me under any circumstances. I can’t even guess their reasoning. I haven’t seen them since I was four, despite them living in the same town as my dad’s parents.

Dad said he never even thought about it, but I’m sure that’s not true. They were fifteen when they found out. Days after I was born, Dad was taking his driver’s test. If they hadn’t been forced to have me and then raise me, their lives would’ve been much easier. Better.

During the time I couldn’t see Dad, Graham was a godsend. He didn’t come around often, but every time he did, he madecertain to spend time with Jagger and me. Often, he’d bring his girlfriends, and most of them treated me like I was their doll. I soaked up every bit of the attention, wishing it would never end and holding to the memories when Mom would go on her next anger-fueled tirade.

Then, one day, when I was fourteen, Graham caught my mom. Fortunately, he only heard her words, and his presence stopped her before she became violent, though his interference meant I paid later. When my mother left the room, I begged him to keep quiet. I could survive all the verbal and physical lashings as long as I could see my dad. I’m not sure why he agreed, but I think it was because he knew the same thing I did. No matter what I said, we both knew my mom was an expert at twisting the truth to fit her narrative, and my dad could not compete with Maxwell’s lawyers.

I also think maybe Graham was afraid of the backlash I would take if we failed, as well.

So his visits became more frequent. I had a hero. And with that came a crush that grew and grew until one fateful night, in a rare moment of boldness, I crossed a line.

His rejection embarrassed my already fragile heart after the berating I’d just taken from my mother—the same flaying he’d rescued me from moments earlier—so I ran into the country club where the party for Maxwell’s fiftieth birthday was being hosted, hoping to find a vacant room to hide away in my humiliation. But in my search, every piece of my soul shattered.

I came upon a room I hoped was empty and eased the door open. The lights were low, so I thought it was safe until I heard voices. It took less than a second to realize it was my mother, but the other voice I didn’t know. I started to sneak out, hoping to go unseen, until I realized they were talking about me.

“Your daughter is beautiful.” An accented male voice said.

“If you say so. I can’t imagine what you see in her, but if you want her, maybe we can come to an arrangement.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” The man didn’t sound appalled. Just a bit surprised.

“That little bitch ruined my life. I only keep her around to keep her father coming back when I snap my fingers. He’s a loser, but he’s an excellent fuck. I dangle her to ensure he does what I want.”

“You’re a heartless woman, Krista.” The man’s chuckle sent chills down my spine.

“Does that mean you’re interested?”

I slipped from the room, gasping for air as tears streamed down my face as if a dam had broken. I ran as fast as I could toward the main entrance. Outside, I ransacked the valet station, grabbed the first set of keys I found, and took off for the parking lot.

It took a minute, but I found the vehicle, climbed in, and took off, ignoring the shouts and screams behind me.

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