Page 30 of A Father's Insistence

“You wouldn’t.” The woman’s eyes go wild with fear. “The baby, Damien.”

I hadn’t noticed before, but the woman’s stomach is swollen large with a child growing inside her.

“What? A cracked-up bastard. I’ve got no idea whose piece of shit you’re growing. It could be anyone’s. If you’ve opened your legs for my brother, then I want to know who the fuck else you’ve fucked?”

“No one. It’s your baby,” the woman screams, and the man slaps her hard across the face. Her lip splits open, and blood starts to drip from it. An elderly gentleman steps up to the couple. I want to tell him not to approach them because I know what could happen to him, and to her for that matter, while this man is so angry. An angry man is a dangerous thing. My mouth opens but then closes again without saying a word. Tears pool in my eyes, and I need to look away, but something forces me to keep watching. It’s like a car crash on a motorway: you need to concentrate on the road, but human nature forces you to look at the devastation.

“I think that’s enough.” The elderly gentleman tries to stand up tall.

“Fuck off, grandad,” the angry man spits at him. “Or you’re next.”

“Damien!” The woman screams and squirms, her hair flopping all over her face.

“You need to step away from her,” the older man continues, but Damien’s had enough, and letting go of his partner’s throat, he wraps his hands tightly around her multi-colored hair and yells, “I said stay the fuck out of it.” He then balls his fist and sends it flying into the face of the elderly gentleman who immediately drops straight down onto the ground and lies there unmoving. A few of those watching scream in shock but no sound comes from my mouth. I’ve seen men like Damien before. He’s nothing but a bully. Sirens wail in the distance, and the woman’s still screaming. Damien lets her go and disappears down the street as fast as he can.

“Stupid old man.” The woman spits blood onto the unconsciousness form on the ground. “This is all your fault. If he gets arrested, I’ll find you. Next time, mind your own business.”

The woman takes off running, just as a police car grinds to a halt at the scene. I can’t watch anymore. To go from seeing a man so kind and friendly toward a woman and child, and then to witness violence so extreme and unnecessary, leaves me conflicted about the world. Maybe it isn’t just me who experiences the hell I’m in? In a bit of a daze, I stumble farther along the street. If the first woman has lost her man, could she find happiness with another? Her old friend, maybe? What about the second? Will she continue to be blinded to the truth about the man she insists is the father of her unborn child? Or is she what Damien said she was? A ‘crack whore’ who will destroy the life of the child growing inside her. There are always two sides to the story. Heaven and hell.

Someone bumps into me, and I stumble back.

“I’m sorry.” The man reaches out to grab me before I fall. My skin heats, and I can feel the palpitations starting. He’s touching me. Is he going to hurt me? “Are you ok?” The man’s brow furrows, and he looks at me with genuine concern. I can’t speak to him, though. I need to put distance between me and him. I push him away and start to run. I’ve lost track of where I am, and nothing looks familiar. Why did I do this? I wasn’t ready. I need to rid myself of the evil stalking me at every turn before I can try to be a normal person again. I’m the only one who can put a stop to this.

In the distance, I’m relieved to see a phone box. They are few and far between on English streets nowadays, and I pray this one is working. Retrieving some coins out of my bag, I feed them into the slot and lift up the phone. It has a dial tone, and I breathe a sigh of relief. My fingers hesitate over the buttons when I realize I don’t know the number to Theo’s house. Damn it. Why didn’t I bring my phone? There is only one number I know: one I had drilled into me since an early age, should I need it. I don’t want to call it because I know it’ll lead to trouble, but maybe I could use it to my advantage? I need to be smarter. I need to be stronger. I need to be the old Joanna, not the victim of abuse I’ve become. I dial the number and wait for someone to answer.

“Hello.” The deep masculine voice booms down the phone when the call is connected.

“Hello, Daddy...”

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