Page 63 of Fight for Me

Deciding to change my tactics, I soften my voice. “Please, Ricky. We can still work it out between us. We could co-parent and stuff. I can forget all this happened as long as you get us the fuck out of here.”

Ricky opens his mouth to answer me, but just then my father decides to join us. If possible, he looks even more disheveled than before and is carrying a shotgun under his arm. He mutters to himself and goes straight to the graffiti-covered window to look at the surroundings.

“It won’t be long now. It won’t be long,” he repeats over and over again.

“Ricky,” I whisper. “Look at him, he’s batshit crazy. Get us out before it’s too late.”

This time, I can see the doubt set in Ricky’s eyes, as he looks between me and my father.

“Whatever he told you, it’s not real. He’s a psychopath. I don’t know his plan, but it will not end well for any of us...” I continue and jump in place when my father suddenly comes closer.

“What the fuck are you two whispering about?” He positions the shotgun, so it points straight at Ricky’s chest. “Don’t you listen to that viper, boy.”

My ex-boyfriend’s eyebrows lift as he steps back. “I wasn’t, sir. We were just catching up.” His tone is casual, but I notice the way his fist clenches at his sides. Oh yeah, now he’s starting to get it. Fucking moron.

“Catching up? Sounds like a good idea, I would love to catch up with you, Jennifer,” the homeless-looking man crouches in front of me and licks his lips. “So, what have you been up to, other than dicking around with that massive idiot Brody?”

“Not much. But I see you’ve been busy with dressing like a hobo and killing innocent fucking women,” I grind out, and then spit in his face.

My father brings his hand to his dirty face and wipes the moisture slowly before he casually backhands me. My head snaps to the side, and I groan.

“Hey, you told me you won’t harm her,” Ricky protests, and tries to come closer. Once again, he’s stopped when my father points the barrel of the gun straight at him.

“You don’t give orders here. Now, make yourself useful and stay on the lookout. I want to know when that piece of shit gets here to save the damsel in distress,” David commands, and then lifts the weapon higher when Ricky stays put, looking conflicted. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

Ricky lifts his hands in surrender and nods. Before he can turn, my father looks around as if suddenly remembering something. “Where’s the little kid?”

Without missing a beat, Ricky states, “I left him upstairs, like you told me. He’s sleeping.”

I frown at the blatant lie but don’t comment, glad that Henry’s not in the direct line of danger just yet. At least if I can believe a word from his bastard father’s mouth. I put it aside for now because I can’t think about it if I’m to somehow get out of the Mill alive. I won’t be able to help my child if I’m trapped in this shithole.

Concentrating back on my father, I decide to engage him in a conversation, after all, the fucker always liked the sound of his own voice. “So, what’s up with this new look, daddy?”

My father glances back at me and smiles, before tugging on the hem of the stained shirt. “You like? Turns out I found the perfect camouflage. I can’t count all the times I’ve had a police cruiser pass me by, supposedly in search for me.” He downright giggles with delight. “Dress as a homeless person and boom, you’re invisible. It works like a charm. It’s as if people have it engraved in them to look away.”

“Wow, brilliant,” I respond with fake admiration as I slap my hands behind searching for anything sharp, like a nail or something protruding from the uneven, old floors to cut the ropes on my wrists. “So, was this before or after you murdered your wife?”

“Marissa was a whore!” he roars suddenly, startling me. “She didn’t obey me. She was unfaithful. And she was a lying bitch to her last breath.” He steps back and laughs maniacally. “I always felt it. I did. I never loved you like a father should love his own flesh and blood. I didn’t, I didn’t...” He looks away and scratches at his beard.

“You’re delusional,” I mutter, but David doesn’t seem to hear me.

“We were all friends, back in the day. All together. Brothers until death, they said. All liars. All...” He looks back at me and studies my face with an almost tender expression. “I can see him in you now. I couldn’t see myself in you. I felt that. Somehow I always knew.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? See who?” I ask with a frown.

“Robert. My friend. My brother.” He cackles again, making me startle one more time, and I quickly glance at Ricky, then point my eyes at the door, and raise my eyebrows. “You can imagine my surprise when he proudly showed me the photo of his daughter, and she looked just like you when you were younger.” I snap my head to gape at David.

When he sees the shock on my face, he smirks. “I knew he would never own up to that. No man with half of a brain would want you. You were always useless. Well... maybe we can rectify that still.”

Before I can register what’s happening, he pulls my legs toward him and grabs the hem of my jeans, trying to shove his disgusting hands inside. I scream bloody murder and try to kick him away.

“What the fuck, man? What the hell are you doing?” Ricky screams and throws the older man off me. He’s breathing sharply and looking at my attacker incredulously before he shakes his head. “Nah, man. I’m done here. I’m calling the fucking cops.” He turns around toward the door.

Before Ricky can make even two steps, however, the deafening sound of a gun going off resonates through the walls, and I watch in slow motion as the back of his head explodes. The time then fast-forwards and his body falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes with a gaping hole the size of a fist in his skull.

“No!” I cry and start thrashing around. “No! Ricky! No, no, no...” I cry, unable to move my eyes from his lifeless body.

The man I considered my father just a few minutes ago, steps into my line of sight and mutters. “Don’t act so surprised.Nobody was going to get out of here alive anyway.”

---