Protector - Laurel Dewey [32]
Chapter 7
Jane slammed her Mustang into gear the second she cleared Headquarters. She looped around the Civic Center, changing lanes erratically. Angrily, she slapped her head several times trying to bury the emerging memory. A pitter-patter of fat spring raindrops dotted the windshield as Jane curved around Cheesman Park. The rain began to fall with vengeance, making it difficult to see more than a car’s length in front. Jane pulled over to the side, under a “No Parking” sign as the rain beat like fists on the roof. Jane grabbed the steering wheel, stared into the oncoming storm and gave in.
“Janie!” Mike screams.
She is fourteen and back in the kitchen staring at Mike who is in a fetal position on the floor where he landed after Dale slapped him out of his chair. A steady pit-pit-pit of hail mixed with snow hits the kitchen window.
“Shut up, you weak fuck!” Dale screams as he leans over Mike.
Mike cups his hands over his ears and holds his breath. Dale punches Mike hard in the head as Mike lets out a bloodcurdling wail.
“What the fuck’s wrong with you!” Dale screams, moving closer to Mike’s face.
Mike holds his hand out to Jane, his eyes filled with terror. “Janie! Help me.”
Jane grabs his hand and jerks him off the floor. Mike retreats behind Jane’s body.
“I’m not fuckin’ done with the little faggot!” Dale yells.
“Yes, you are!” Jane yells back, meeting his angry pitch.
Dale turns over the kitchen table sending the macaroni and cheese across the room. He storms toward Jane, back-handing her hard across the face, but she stands her ground. “Don’t you fuckin’ raise your voice to me!”
“He doesn’t want to look at photos of dead people while he’s eating,” Jane says, her voice more controlled.
“Get outta the way!” Dale bellows. Mike stays pinned behind Jane, his head buried in the center of her back.
“Mom hated having those pictures at the table but she never told you!” Dale smacks Jane across her other cheek with the flat of his hand. “She just kept it inside but she hated it!” Dale lays another hard slap across Jane’s face. “She hated those pictures, she hated this house and she hated you! That’s why she died! To get away from you!”
The blood wells in Dale’s face. “You fuckin’ bitch!” he screams as he grabs Jane by the hair and punches her across the face. Blood spews from her nose and onto Mike as he takes refuge against the doorjamb. Jane starts to fall to her knees but catches herself. She looks at Mike. “Go to your room, Mike.”
Dale pulls Jane upward then slams her flat against the wall. “Don’t you ever say that kind of shit to me again! You understand me?”
Jane pushes her face just inches from her father’s face. “It’s fuckin’ true!”
Dale lets go with a punishing series of slaps to Jane’s face. Mike still stands paralyzed in the doorway.
Jane falls to her knees, blood trailing from her nose and into her mouth. She screams at Mike. “Go to your room!”
Mike tears across the living room and races up the stairs to his bedroom.
Dale leans down, barking in Jane’s ear. “You think you’re so fuckin’ smart? You don’t know shit!”
Jane pulls herself up, fists clenched. “I know more than you’ll ever know!” Jane swings at her father’s face but Dale grabs her arm before it makes contact.
“You wanna play hardball?” Dale uses one hand to jerk Jane’s arm behind her back and the other to pull her head backward with a clump of her hair. “You wanna play hardball, bitch! You got it!”
Jane tries to break free as Dale shoves her forward to the kitchen door that leads outside. “Get your hands off me!” Jane screams.
Dale kicks the screen door open wide. “Shut up! You understand me?” He pushes his body against Jane’s, forcing her outside in the fast-falling snow. The snow flies against her face, the icy cold stinging her flushed cheeks and cut lip. Jane digs her heels into a patch of snow as Dale tries to push her closer to the workshop door that stands ajar. He swings