Chapter 16
Ella's P.O.V:
"Thank goodness, he picked up." I muttered to myself as I placed the phone next to me and took a few deep breaths to keep my shrieks of pain from escaping and waking up Mony and him. I didn't even completely remember how I got into the predicament I was currently in.
I glanced down at my sizzling arm and forced myself to look back at the ceiling. I knew the moment I regained conciousness I wouldn't be able to drive myself to a hospital like this. The blistering red on my arm throbbed again and I grimaced painfully.
Kane was the only person I could think of calling beside Simon. He already knew about my dad - he figured it out! For a reason I couldn't apprehend I felt. . . thankful. I didn't have to tell him, he saw through me.
I did consider calling Simon but Simon's dad came home tonight and I couldn't ask him to leave his mother. That would be cruel of me. I knew the mess a father could cause after a night at the bar and one too many extra drinks. She needed him more than I did.
I walked to the tap while gripping my arm tightly and turned the handle so the cold water fell strongly into the sink. I took a deep breath and pushed my arm underneath the running water. An involuntary hiss escaped me as the water poured over my burn wound, drawing a bit of the heat away.
I couldn't deny that this was bad, even for him.
I scanned through anything I could remember about treating burn wounds. Do not tie a bandage across the burned area. I swallowed the insane giggles trying to convince me it was okay to let go of reality for a second. I doubt I would be able to stay conscious long enough to even try to cover the wound.
I shot a hated glare at my so called father. He passed out on the carpet after. . . well just after. I couldn't help it, as the pain coursed through me again I whispered every curse word in my vocabulary at him (which just on the side happens to be a lot. Thanks to. . . well him). How could he just leave us? How could he abandon his children? His daughters? To do, what? Drown his pain in a bottle of liquor while we had to fight for scraps to live on? How could he hurt us. . . hurt me the way he has? Did that first bottle of vodka drown the memories of fatherhood from his grieving, already depressed mind?
The hatred I held for him has bundled up for such a long time that I could hardly bare to look at him without wanting to slap him, hard. But I would never do that, because I was afraid of what would happen if I let myself step over that boundary. Would that make me as bad as him? Would I mind being as bad as him if I started? I didn't want those questions answered. I wanted to be able to fight to protect myself if it ever came down to that, not to purposely hurt him or anyone else.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a sound similar to a roaring lion stop outside the house. I turned off the tap and felt the dread creep up on me. What would he say?
My father snorted and rolled over to face the wall. I scowled at him in utter disgust and cradled my arm to me as I approached the front door. With a last deep breath of preparation I opened the door softly. I saw Kane running up to me and the opened door a little more. When he was within hearing distance I shushed him.
"You're too loud." I told him trying to look angry but the relief of having him here made the scowl look pathetic so I dropped it. I froze for a second. Did I just.. say I was glad to have him here? No, I was just glad to have someone, anyone here.
Right?
Kane's gaze flickered down to my burned arm and he sucked in a breath before letting out a string of words that made my previous session of excessive cursing seem like blessing at church. Anger filled his face and his eyes shone with fire.
"That's a second degree burn!" he yelled. The anger in his voice was clear but there was something else, something I couldn't place.
"Not so loud," I managed to squeeze through the overwhelming pain.
"What happened?" he yelled again. Tears jumped to my eyes but I swallowed hard and pushed them down. This was not a good time to burst into tears like a toddler.
"I... burned my... hand while.. cooking." I stuttered. Really, Ella? For someone who had to lie constantly I was not very good at it. The fire in his eyes heated up and I winced slightly, even though I knew it wasn't directed at me.
"In the middle of the night?" he asked making it clear he didn't believe me for a second but it was too late to back down now.
"Yes," I insisted stubbornly and he growled an answer.
"Your dad must have helped," he accused with a scornful look. He said dad again but I let it pass, now was not the right time.
"It was an accident." I whispered while lowering my head to the ground, tears of shame again threatening to fall. Couldn't he see this was embarrassing enough?
A hand lifted my chin gently and wiped my cheek. Kane's eyes were soft now and the anger was gone. It was replaced with something deeper, more passionate.
"You're crying," he stated softly. My eyes widened in surprise and I lifted my hand to touch my cheeks. It was wet with fresh tears and I stared down at my hand in surprise. I haven't cried in front of someone beside Simon for so long I was unsure how to react. Kane must have seen the confused look on my face because he gave a bitter laugh and wiped away the salty tears from my cheeks.
"We'll talk later, where's your car?" he asked me while gently wiping away my tears even though I'm pretty sure they've stopped falling now. I nodded and pulled away from his soft touch. I ran back inside and grabbed my keys. I handed it to him and pointed to my car.
I will not cry, I promised myself as we climbed into the car. He started my car and pulled out of the driveway.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. I didn't know why I was whispering, "I called you in the middle of the night to deal with my stupid problems." I couldn't take the soft look on his face anymore so I turned to face the window and felt a tear slip down my cheek again. Why am I being so emotional? It would be easier to hate him if only he could be cruel. I did not want to become another name on his 'been there, done that' list but he had an undeniable effect on me.
He grabbed my healthy hand and squeezed which made me look at him. He kept his eyes on the road for a second before turning to look at me, "Don't apologize and don't ever hesitate to call me again, okay?" he said tenderly. My eyes widened and I looked at the gears of the car to avoid the familiar look on his face. It was the same expression Simon wore whenever he witnessed me covering a new scar from his watchful eyes.
"You should keep your eyes on the road," I responded. He let go of my hand and tilted my chin in the same gentle way and I felt butterflies crashing around in my stomach. I blushed, what I imagined, to be a deep scarlet.
"Promise?" he insisted.
"I promise," I agreed for both our safety. Just so he could turn back to the road. At least that's what I was telling myself.
Yes, no alternative motive.
None at all.
Lies.
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YOU ARE READING
Internal cry
Teen Fiction"How long has he been hurting you?" There it is. The question I dreaded, but I promised him I would be honest, so I took a deep breath and answered. "Seven years." I didn't look at him. I waited for him to pull his hand away, to hit me, to say I was...
