Page 33 of Loving Jared

Eighteen

Amy wasn't sure how long she was out, but she woke up sprawled out on a concrete floor, her cheek pressed against the rough coldness. She blinked a few times and jerked her hand up to her head. It hurt like a motherfucker. She couldn't wait to get her hands on the person who’d done it.

Her father.

It had to be. He must've set fire to the house to cause a distraction and then attacked her, somehow knowing that she would run into Jared's house. He must've been watching them.

Amy groggily pushed herself to her knees, her ears ringing and her eyes blurry. She blinked a few times and realized she was in Jared’s garage, in front of his SUV. As the pain began to clear, she heard someone moving around nearby.

"Did nothing to deserve this. I made one mistake… one goddam mistake and the whole world treats me like a villain. I'll show them."

Amy swung her head around and spotted her father, pacing near the door.

"You killed our mother," Amy snarled, her voice raspy. She glared at the man who’d donated his sperm to her and her siblings.

"You're awake." He didn't seem either happy or annoyed that she’d woken up.

Amy tried to stand, but her head thundered in response and she was forced to go down onto one knee. She gripped Jared's workbench and held on for dear life as the room swam around her.

"What's your plan?" she demanded angrily. "Once the police get here, you're going straight back to jail."

Amy was genuinely baffled by the stupidity of whatever it was he was planning. It was becoming rapidly clear that he had no real plan. She tried to remember if he was always this way. He did used to have a penchant for last minute decisions, both good and bad.

He turned on her, whipping around and glaring. "You think you're so smart, taking over the family, taking the house, fucking the neighbour. You're just like your whore of a mother."

Amy finally managed to struggle to her feet and was able to take a good look at her father. He looked like a raving lunatic. His hair, grey and matted, hung down to his shoulders in sweaty strings. His shirt was loose on his frame and clung to his torso, sweat shining through. He wore a pair of dirty stained jeans and thick work boots. He was not the father Amy remembered. Michael Funk had never been a great father, but he'd at least been clean, articulate and mentally present.

Now, Amy didn't even recognize him.

Though despair and pain ate at her, she realized that she needed to stop thinking with her emotions and start trying to get herself out of this situation. If her father was comparing her to her mother, then she was in very big trouble.

"I think it would be best if we left the garage. Let's just go out into the yard and sort this out. I’m worried about you.” She tried to appeal to him. When his dark glare swung around, she added, “If you don't want to stay, then I'll distract them and you can run. Okay?"

"Liar," he growled angrily. "You're a liar and a whore. Just like your mother. You'll turn me over the second we’re out of here."

He wasn't wrong, but Amy didn't think she should tell him that. Instead she backed up a few steps, putting more space between them. She ran her hand along the workbench behind her, trying to find anything she could use as a weapon, but Jared kept his garage immaculately tidy. No tools lying around.

Her father didn't have the same problem. He dropped to one knee next to a big metal toolbox, flipped the top open and grabbed the first thing he saw, a heavy wrench. Amy's blood ran cold as he hefted it out of the box, facing her. She slid her ass along the workbench, putting even more space between them. If he was serious about attacking her it wouldn't be enough space. She was smaller, slower and weaponless. She only had words.

"Dad, I'm so sorry this is happening. I know everything was a misunderstanding with Mom. Let's talk about it." Amy used her most reasonable voice, but it wasn't enough.

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid, you little bitch. You were always that way – too smart for your own good. Who’s smart now? You're gonna get knocked up by your biker neighbour and then he's gonna leave you and you'll have another brat to raise."

Amy's face stung with heat. Not just at his words, but the way he was spitting them at her, it was disgusting. Her father had always been cold and unapproachable, but nothing like this. So crude it hurt to listen to.

"You know that's not true," she defended herself. "Jared loves me and wants to take care of me, Sarah, Millie and Teagan. All of us."

"Well isn't that special for you,” he sneered, stepping toward her. "While I was rotting in a prison cell you were living it up, probably fucking anything that moved just to get ahead. Just like your mom."

There was no point in talking to him. Amy needed to get out of the garage and she needed to do it fast. She could hear people shouting outside, trying to put the fire out. As if reading her mind, her father lunged toward her, reaching for her with one hand and hefting the wrench with the other.

Amy let out a bloodcurdling scream, hoping that someone would hear her. She tried to run but her father caught the edge of her shirt and swung her around. She saw the wrench heading towards her head and quickly dropped to the ground. It sailed harmlessly past.

Instead of climbing to her feet, Amy rolled underneath the SUV. She was much smaller than her father and could easily fit under a vehicle. If he tried to come after her, she would roll out the other side and run out the garage door.

"Amy!" She heard someone bellow her name outside the garage.

Her father dropped to his knees and glared at her under the vehicle. "Amy Funk, you get your ass out here right now!"

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