Page 88 of Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia 1)

Blood poured from the gash on his head. It wasn’t fatal, but he’d need stitches, and he’d definitely be out of it for a while.

“Oh my God.”

The words didn’t come from me. I turned to find my mom standing in the doorway of my bedroom. She clutched her chest as she looked from Aaron to me.

“Oh my God,” she repeated, rushing to my side, and falling to her knees. “Liv, oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I heard the yelling and then the thump. Oh my God. Is he?”

“No,” I shook my head. “He’s not.”

I rose unsteadily to my feet. I had to leave before he woke up. If he woke up and I was still here…the consequences would be disastrous.

I didn’t know where I’d go and that didn’t matter. I had to get away.

“I need to leave,” I whispered, scurrying around my room, gathering up my things. I hadn’t removed much from my suitcase so it didn’t take long. “He was going to ruin the pictures, mom. I snapped. I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him destroy them,” I rambled.

He had already destroyed a part of me, a long time ago, there was no way I was letting him destroy my only connection with my real father.

“I have to go, mom. I can’t stay here,” I rambled, gathering the photos from my bed, and the ones that had fallen on the floor.

I looked down at Aaron, the man whom I had believed was my father. I had never loved him, only feared him. But shouldn’t I have felt some kind of remorse for hurting him? Instead, I felt relieved.

“I have to go, mom,” I repeated, because she kept standing there with shocked, wide eyes as she looked at Aaron passed out on the floor.

Slowly, she looked up at me.

“And you need to go too,” I pleaded. “He’s going to be livid when he wakes up.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” she shook her head, “I can’t.”

I grasped her hands in mine. “Please, mom. For me. You have to. He’ll kill you.” I looked down at the broken lamp and the gash on his head. “He’ll blame you for this,” my voice cracked. “You have to leave.”

“There’s nowhere for me to go, Liv! Nowhere!” She was flustered, fanning her face, and fighting hysterics.

“Find a place,” I begged, taking her hands in mine to soothe her. “I can’t lose you too. Come to Virginia. I’ll get a job and so will you. We can find a place and live together. If you stay here, you’ll die.”

I knew in my heart, that if Aaron woke up, and she was still here, he’d kill her…just like I knew he’d kill me.

His anger had been growing progressively worse over the years. I had blocked a lot of what he had said and done, in order to cope, but if I really started digging through my memories, I knew I would find that Thanksgiving wasn’t the first time he’d grabbed me like that.

Acting on instinct, I grabbed her long sleeve shirt, and yanked it up. “Look at this!” I pleaded, looking at the purple, yellow, and green bruises, on her arm in the shape on his fingers. “If you think this is bad, what happens when he wakes up will be worse! Don’t let him control you anymore!” I begged. “Where’s that woman I saw yesterday? Huh? The woman that was going to leave her husband for Derek? Where is she, mom? Find her! Find her, and hold onto her! If you were going to leave dad for Derek, you can leave him for me.”

Her whole body shook from crying, and she kept looking from me to Aaron, and back again.

“You can do it, mom. Find that woman Derek fell in love with. Please,” I sobbed.

She nodded. “Okay, okay. I know where he keeps some money hidden. I-”

“Just hurry, mom,” I begged. “Get rid of your cellphone and anything he can use to track you. Leave your car. I’ll drive. Grab necessities only. Got it?”

She nodded mechanically and dashed down the hall to the master bedroom.

I eyed the small pool of blood that had gathered on the floor from Aaron’s wound. It wasn’t a dangerous amount of blood, I knew that, but the sight of it still upset my stomach.

While my mom was gathering her things, I changed from my pajamas into clothes, and brushed my hair, quickly braiding it.

I stepped over Aaron’s slumped form and tore my dresser apart. I had hidden money in each drawer from all the summer’s I had worked at the local ice cream shop. I knew I would never be coming back to this house.

This house wasn’t my home, it was a prison, and I wanted none of these things, because they would only keep a part of me chained here.

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