Some Wounds Never Heal

Don't Give Up Cadillac

Chapter 16: Part B

Beckinsile's Point of View

I can hear Mrs. Blackwell walk back into her husband's office, most likely to rant about how bratty Cadillac and I are and then convince him to buy her a diamond necklace as an "I'm sorry I'm related to that blue-haired monster" gift. I roll my eyes at the thought and accidentally run into Paul.

"Sorry about that," I mutter and give him a weary smile.

"It's okay; I saw Cadillac go down in the elevator, she was sobbing." Paul looks a little upset.

"How often does she actually come?"

"About once a week but he usually has her escorted from the premises before she even gets to talk to him. What did he say to her? She looked more upset than usual..." Paul's voice trails off as he looks at me.

"It went down the same way it does every time, I'm guessing except his witch of a wife came in and was basically rubbing the fact that he cares more about his new family in Cadillac's face." I can feel my anger rising.

"Sometimes I wish he wouldn't let her in; she does nothing but make a scene, even his biggest kiss-ups hate her. She tries to control everything in the office even though she has no authority to do so and he just lets her because when it comes to Mrs. Blackwell, he's a huge pushover." Paul says her name with so much disgust and his tone becomes angrier by the end of the sentence.

"So, it would be easy for her to manipulate him into leaving his first wife and unborn child for her?" I smirk a little.

"Now you're catching on," Paul winks and then walks me to the elevator. I step in and press the lobby floor.

The doors swish shut and I wait impatiently for the elevator to reach the lobby. It reaches the lobby in a few seconds and I rush over to Ms. Roberts's desk.

"Did you see Cadillac come down here?" I say in one breath.

"Yes, she came through here sobbing a few minutes ago. She probably went home. Her house is straight up the street and then you take a left; she's number 1A." Ms. Roberts gives me a warm smile before I head out the door into the late afternoon sunshine.

I pull out my phone and call Ed. His car rolls up and I hop in. I give him the directions Ms. Roberts gave me and then wait for us to arrive. The street Mr. Blackwell works on is full of nice office buildings and cute little restaurants. Once we turn left, the scenery changes drastically. This street is full of walk-up, gray tenements. The paint is fraying and the whole street gives off a sketchy vibe.

"I need to do this alone, Ed. Can you just wait out here until I come out?" I give him a weary look.

"Yes, don't be long though; my mom expects me home for dinner."

"You're such a Mama's boy." I pat his head and then get out of the car.

I walk up the concrete steps to number 1A. I knock on the door. It's supposed to be red but the paint is peeling and has been reduced to an utterly unrecognizable shade of the color. I hold my breath and when the door doesn't open I twist the knob. To my surprise, it opens and I walk into a small foyer. The paint inside is peeling as well but the house is tidy and seems to be well kept otherwise. I walk into the room off to the left which turns out to be a living room. There's a faded couch and an armchair. Mounted on the wall is a relatively nice TV. The kitchen is behind it and mostly empty. I don't see Cadillac so I continue walking around the house. I walk upstairs and knock on the doors. Most of them are open and empty. I go to the closed door at the end of the hallway and knock loudly. I can here sobbing coming from the other side.

"Cadillac, please come out. We need to talk," I knock loudly and wait for her to open the door when she doesn't, I resort to other measures.

I slam my shoulder up against the door but it still doesn't open and that's when I pull out my bobby pin. I insert it into the hole and move it around until I hear the lock pop.

I open the door and push my way into the small bathroom. I find Cadillac sobbing on the floor. Her back is shoved up against a cabinet and she's holding a razor in her hand. I look from her to her arm. Her arm is covered in a series of cuts and red blood. I lunge for the razor and manage to take it from her.

"I'm so sorry, Beckinsile. I haven't cut in months but I just can't handle it. My own father hates me. He left me and my mother to die and now he doesn't even want to acknowledge my existence. I have nobody looking out for me and I feel so unloved in my own life. Nobody's ever around and when they are they do nothing but yell at me or pretend I don't exist." Cadillac falls onto my shoulder sobbing.

I stroke her hair and murmur an encouraging phrase in her ear as I search for disinfectant and some bandages. I locate them and force her arm over to the sink. I turn on the water and rinse all the blood from both of her arms. She winces as I apply the disinfectant and wrap the cut arm in a bandage.

"Please don't do this to yourself; I promise you we'll figure this out but it'll take time. Someday, we'll make your father believe that you are who you say you are. Someday, we'll make sure Mrs. Blackwell gets what she deserves but that day is not today. Don't give up, Cadillac. We'll figure this out." I hug her tightly.

"I want him to recognize me but things will never be the way they should've been. He'll still be the man that abandoned me for his slutty new wife and new daughter. He'll always be the man that didn't even attempt to help his own daughter out of poverty or acknowledge her for the sake of his own reputation. I may have his DNA but that man will never be my father and there's no way I can forgive him for what he's done." Cadillac dries her tears and lets me lead her down to the living room.

I sit down on the couch with her while she turns on the TV. Ring. Ring. I hear the doorbell ring so I get up and motion to Cadillac; she nods while I go to open the door. My jaw drops when I see who's on the other side of the door. Matthew Blackwell.

The last man I would ever expect to be standing on the steps of a walk-up tenement in the city, a tenement that belongs to his daughter and ex-wife, is holding a briefcase in hand and staring nonchalantly at me as if it's the most natural thing in the world.