Page 45 of Wrecked
“Whoa, whoa… I don’t got nothin’ you want. I swear it, man,” he stutters the words in his panic. I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he sputters through his pleas.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I seethe, “you do have something I want. Something I want more than anything. And youhurther. So now? I have to hurt you,” I state nonchalantly, as if we are discussing the weather.
“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” he cries out as the fear of my declaration has him fighting harder. I pull him back into my body and slam him forward again. He wails out in pain as his face connects with the metal framework of the car. A gush of blood flows from his now broken nose, and tears stream down his face.
I move in close, my lips right up against his ear. “Ellie. YouhurtEllie,” I growl, my voice low so I don’t attract attention from the neighbors. “You put your filthy fucking hands on what isMINE, and well, you see, Chris? I am having a really hard time trying not to kill you for it.”
“It…it was an accident. I…I swear it. I’ve never hurt her before. She’s my daughter!”
“No. She’s not your daughter, Chris. Which is why you think it’s ok to say filthy, vile things about her, right?” I give him a small shove. “Do you think that’s ok?” I ask calmly. “Do you think it’s ok to look at her? To look at what’smine? Do you think it’s ok towantwhat’s mine? To get into her bed at night and wait for her like she belongs to you? Like you didn’t fucking raise her?! DO YOU, CHRIS!?” I lift my knee up and lunge it into his back, causing him to gasp for air. “You sick fucking pig.”
“No!” he coughs out. “No…I…swear… Jesus Christ, I swear, I won’t look at her ever again. Please, just don’t do anything crazy here, man.” His pathetic cries are only pissing me off. I turn him around and slam his back against the car. I let him look me in the eye. I let him see my barely contained rage. I let him see the monster that lays dormant, the one that will destroy anyone who hurts Ellie.
“Get on your knees,” I demand. The fucking coward drops to the ground, a large wet stain decorating the front of his pants. The strong scent of urine wafts up my nose and I scoff at the pathetic mess he is. “Beg.”
“Wha…what?” he whimpers, seemingly too drunk to stand up and stop embarrassing himself.
“Beg. Me,” I say again, and I nearly laugh at his bug-eyed expression. “Beg me to let you walk away from this without broken legs. Beg me to let you keep the use of your hands. BEG ME!”
“Please!” he pleads, but I see the anger creeping into his gaze. He’s sobering up from the humiliation. “Please, I won’t evertouch or look at her. Just don’t…do anything stupid,” he says with disdain, his eyes hardening. I don’t like that one bit.
I turn to walk away, letting him believe I’m satisfied with his pleas. At the last second I shift, kicking him in his gut.Hard. He falls forward as he struggles for air. I bring my knee up to his face; a sickening crunch sounds when my hard kneecap meets his cheek. He falls to his side, cradling the side of his face and his abdomen. I bend down, balancing my weight on my knees, and grip his hair as I yank his head to my lips. I lean in and whisper in his ear, “Touch her again, and I will saw off your hands. Look at her again, and I will sew your eyes shut. Say anything…un-fatherly…again, and I will cut out your tongue and choke you with it.” I let go of his hair and let his head fall back. I stand up slowly and walk back toward my car. I look over my shoulder, at the pitiful excuse for a man lying next to his battered car.
“Good talk, Chris,” I call out, the smile in my tone betraying the very threatening conversation we just had. “I’ll see you around.”
I get into my car and watch Chris struggle to stand up as I pull out of the driveway. I think about the violence I just executed and the nauseated feeling that usually accompanies that kind of aggression.
I don’t feel it.
I have spent so much of my life terrified of becoming him. Petrified that I was destined to follow in his footsteps. Certain that it was contagious, and it was just a matter of time before the sickness spread to me. I believed I was designed to hurt the people I am supposed to love. That I was born with the same innate evil, an uncontrollable rage meant to satisfy the sadistic craving for violence.
The funny thing is, today showed me that I am nothing like my father. What happened with Chris wasn’t an uncontrolled, unrestrained madness. I didn’t act on a desire to maim andhumiliate someone. I didn’t focus my rage on someone inferior, someone innocent.
Iknowthat I would never hurt someone that I love. I would never hurt someone that didn’t deserve it. My monster isn’t born from the immoral, depraved genetics of an abusive, narcissistic asshole.
My monster is born from survival.
This inner beast is meant toprotectme, and that protection now extends to Ellie. I won’t keep him leashed. Not anymore. Now that I’ve felt the power he gives me, I will keep him close. Because now that I have a life worth living, someone to live for? I’m going to fight to keep it.
I’ll need that beast nearby for my first battle, my biggest enemy.
Nathaniel Westin.
CHAPTER 23
ELLIE (SOPHOMORE YEAR, HIGH SCHOOL)
The cool winter breeze coils my long, auburn hair around my face. I fight the unruly strands, spitting out tufts of my rebellious tresses, and quicken my stride toward the house. Nate had something to take care of after school, so I spent the last few hours in the library studying. He texted me a little while ago to let me know he was home, and I decided to come straight here rather than sneak out later. My mom doesn’t check on me anymore, so she won’t even notice I didn’t come home to sleep.
Nate’s father is out of town—as usual—but his mom stayed behind, so I have to sneak inside from the backyard. I parked at the corner so that no one could see my car, but I’m not dressed warm enough for the elements.
I pull the front of my jacket tighter across my chest, making a mental note to dig out a heavier coat in the morning. The temperature has dropped significantly in the hours since school started this morning. We’ve had a relatively mild winter, so this late March freeze is unexpected.
It feels ominous, in a way. Similar to the beginning of ahorror movie when the characters are happy and unsuspecting, unable to hear the haunting soundtrack as it reaches a crescendo in the background. The subtle wariness permeating the air feels as though I’m in the audience watchingmy ownscary movie play out on screen. I’m not sure where this unsettling feeling is coming from, but I can sense something grave on the horizon. I shudder, feeling prickles move down my arm as goosebumps pop up. I just need Nate. Things always feel better—safer—with Nate.
I make my way to the back door in a hurry and jerk back in surprise when I see Nate already waiting for me. I can’t help the immediate smile that emerges, so big my cheeks ache. My heart pounds against my chest, and my legs feel like Jell-O just from the site of him. I wonder if he will always affect me this way. I hope he does…and I think he will.
My rapidly beating heart seems to agree.
