Page 72 of All In Good Time
She froze, flinching and waiting for the inevitable.
Jennifer, who had been a statue a moment before, made her move, grabbing onto her husband’s arm and pulling him away. “Mark, no. No, you can’t. She’s someone else’s child.”
His advances decelerated to a stop, but his face was still fuming.
Jennifer sighed in relief, and hugged Mark’s arm closer to her.
Becca felt sick.
These were the parents that Derek had been given. One long gone. One a danger. One who only stopped Mark, not to protect Becca, but to protect him from the consequences of what he sought to do.
Becca wasn’t just “someone else’s child.” She was the child of someone who wouldactuallyreport him and get him arrested.
Derek would never be safe. Not as long as he was under the same roof as these people.
The harsh truth, the painful reality, was easy to diminish when she only saw the effect. But when she was standing right in the middle of the cause, she couldn’t remain blissfully blind.
Mark pulled from Jennifer’s grip and approached Becca with less aggression, but enough to make her cower against the door.
He opened it and grabbed her arm, before pushing her out, stumbling onto the front porch.
He leaned toward her, his teeth bared like an animal. “Keep your mouth shut, bitch, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
The door slammed inches from her face, and she was left in the nighttime air, with the smell of cigarettes, autumn leaves, and alcohol on her face.
* * *
Derek didn’t come to school, and Becca didn’t have it in her to search for him for three days.
She was officially a point of interest to Mark, enough that he’d threatened her and scared her away. And it worked. She was scared. She left her bedroom light on at night, and she checked the locks on the doors several times before curling up in her bed.
Her mom was hundreds of miles away, while Becca hid with the lights on afraid of the monster that might come for her. Like a little child, she wanted her mother home to check under the bed and tell her she was safe.
She became a hermit in her own home, secluded for the weekend and scared that, at any moment, she would get a knock on the door. She never did.
Not from Mark, not from anybody.
The image of Derek was burned into her mind, replaying over and over again.
While she was here in her home, Derek was constantly in the range of fire.
She understood now why he tried to keep her blind to that part of his world. Why he never wanted to be seen in the light. He was afraid when she saw it she would never look at him the same. And now that she had actually seen it, she feared he was right.
Derek had looked different to her then. He’d looked fragile, and stuck, and at risk of losing.
She couldn’t lose him. The fear of losing Derek was what made her pick up the phone and risk everything else.
Winston listened. He gave her everything else—the names and the numbers. Child Protective Services, he said they were called.
She spent a day wondering if she should do it. Mark’s threat and her promise to Derek were what held her back. She was fearful of what might happen to her.
But the fearforDerek was what made her pick up that phone and dial that number.
27
October 1985 | After
She couldn’t get Derek’s words out of her head:Stop trying.
