Xander Valentine paced back and forth in the narrow hallway of the police station. He kept reaching up to where his crimson tie crossed his neck tightly, itching underneath the collar. Regularly, he drew back the light blue shirt’s collar, letting his outfit breathe. He always felt nervous within a police station, a trapped animal within a cage, a phobia that once he stepped through the front door, he will never walk out a free man. Then again, he never had a pleasant experience in a police station. One time, he had been questioned in Calli’s death. They hadn’t exactly ruled foul play out of her drowning. Given his reported history of domestic violence, of course, Xander appeared to be a prime suspect in his ex-wife’s death. Luckily, Xander had an airtight alibi. Additionally, no physical evidence had ever been recovered to connect him to the crime or to suggest that it had been anything other than an accidental drowning. Still, you never knew if the police in that jurisdiction were corrupt enough to trump up evidence. He had seen the documentaries. Thankfully, Chad had applied some pressure to the right individuals to see Xander spared of prolonged interrogation and a formal investigation. Xander didn’t like to be underneath the microscope, who knew what they would connect him to. While he had been innocent in Calli’s passing, Xander understood he engaged in criminal behavior from time to time. Now more than ever, his probation made it all more important for him to steer clear of any prying eyes of law enforcement.
Now, however, Xander Valentine didn’t find himself located in the center of a criminal investigation. Through the glass window, Abby and detective were in a heated discussion within the interrogation room. Tears flowed profusely from Abby’s bloodshot eyes. Mascara smeared. They wrangled her the night prior from Jason’s compound. They arrested her and processed her that evening. Not until this morning the detectives manning the case had dedicated to finally question her. Despite not being able to hear the words spoken, Xander managed to decipher her body language. He read her lips. She repeatedly denied the allegations against her. She started to point out the discolored skin, faded bruises Xander assumed formed from their late-night encounter. Bruises she had blamed Xander for. Rightfully so. They did have that shuffle in the bedroom. He had the bitemark to show for it. A purple circular ring from where her teeth broke his skin.
After what seemed to be an eternity, the investigator gathered up the case files and left the room. Miss Erikson’s heels clicked against the tiled floor. Her brunette hair pulled back into a ponytail. He caught a whiff of lemongrass. She waved Xander along to follow her, but they didn’t go far. They ventured into the neighboring interrogation room, a small confined space with a table and two chairs. He didn’t want to enter. He hesitated. She motioned towards the far chair. Xander sighed. He didn’t like where this was going. Immediately, he became defensive. His body stiffened. He second guessed his decision to turn to the police for this matter. Somehow, they’re going to turn this on me. I just know it. I just fucking know it.
“Abigail is adamant that your account is nothing more than a fabrication. The girl has even gone as far as to say you threatened her and assaulted her some while back. Is there any validity behind those accusations?” The detective crossed her legs. Her predatory eyes searched within Xander to find the truth. Xander released a forced laugh. This was exactly why I didn’t want to go to the police. Of course, they’d try to turn this against me. How was I convinced to go ahead with this? I’m such a fool. She repeated the question, “Is there any merit behind that accusation, Mr. Valentine?”
“I hadn’t laid a hand on the woman,” Xander lied. He leaned over the table towards the detective, his hands clutching the end. He continued: “Not that I haven’t wanted to. She fucked my son, Miss Erikson. He’s a thirteen-year-old boy. No idea how much damage that would do to his psyche. He’s refusing to talk to the shrinks. He’s obsessed with her. Do you blame him? Raging hormones lends itself to lust, and when you have a tight cunt available at his age, you’ll fuck the shit right out of it. It’s his God in a tight little hole.”
“Manners, Mr. Valentine, please. Right now, all we have is your word against hers. You’re the only eyewitness. If we could get permission to speak with your son. But where it stands now, we’re going to have to drop the charges. The DA isn’t going to go to trial on she said he said testimony,” Miss Erikson provided. Her nose had wrinkled up as soon as Xander parted with some of that foul language. Her eyes surrendered everything. Her instincts recognized Xander as a beast. She doesn’t believe a word I’m saying now. She’s taking Abby’s side. Of course, I’m the thug and Abby’s the Sunday school teacher. Why did I think this would work? And I can’t have Connor talking. He’ll lie. He’ll pin something on me. I just know it. Grave concern compiled within his soul.
“I assure you; I know what sexual intercourse looks like. I saw them with my own eyes. Her coaching my son while he was deep in her. Sickening. You think I want this out? I’m going to look like a terrible father for leaving my son in that woman’s care,” Xander scoffed. He held his rage in check. He wanted nothing more than to grab a hold of Miss Erikson’s shoulder and shake her violently until she understood that he told the truth. Abby molested his son. Xander saw it firsthand. Yet a wise voice in the back of his head warned him. He needed to remain calm. He needed to be as placid as a pond’s surface on a windless day. Keep control over his language, body, and verbal, stoic as a marble statue.
“As I said, if you permit us to interview your son-,” Miss Erikson started again. They were going to trust the word of a sex-obsessed teenager over a grown adult’s? That made zero sense. His heart raced. His blood pumped through his veins. A fever washed over Xander. He wanted to burst. He wanted to yell at the detective before him. His entire being screamed to attack, attack, attack!
“He’s deep in therapy. You have to understand, he’s not taking this well. He thinks he’s in love with the woman. He threatens me. He states he wishes to kill me for coming between him and Abigail. Don’t you see it? You can’t take his word for anything. He would lie. Lie to protect her because he thinks he’s in love with her and the other way around, that she loves him,” Xander explained calmly as he settled back into his seat. He dug his fingernails into his thighs. He controlled his breathing. Surprisingly enough to him, he caught himself practicing the routine his court-ordered shrink taught him in anger management. Breathe heavily. Count. Ground yourself with senses. Step outside your head, let go of those dangerous thoughts. Let those fly away. He gained a semblance of control. Enough restrain to prevent an outburst.
“Our hands are tied then, Mr. Valentine. You have to understand, without any collaboration. It’s your word against hers. Neither of you have anyone to back up accounts. Once again, tt’s she said, he said. Innocent until proven guilty is how we operate here, and we don’t come close to reaching the burden of proof on this case,” Miss Erikson responded matter-of-factly. Xander read between the lines. This was a two-way street right now. Abby’s accusations were being considered as well as his. Unlike Xander, Abby did have an eyewitness. Two in fact. Two that would probably testify that yes, Xander laid his hands on Abby. The realization dawned within Xander that he had potentially set himself up with that late-night visit., set himself up for trouble. If that Jason fellow or Connor cooperated with the police, the tables would turn. Xander would be the hunted. Xander would be the criminal. The recognition of fear threatened to break the levies, let the torrents of rage flood out. The situation had been terribly unfair to Xander. He was only trying to do the right thing for once in his life and he couldn’t be allowed to do that. Fuck this.
He retained control, shakily though, a man whose grip slipped while he rode the mechanical bull. He pressed, an attempt to balance him atop his mount: “Then what am I supposed to do, detective? I understand you want to speak to my son. But my son is not a credible witness. He would kill for her. How am I supposed to protect him? Fuck, I have caught him several times now, sneaking out for a late-night rendezvous with her.”
“We understand your concern. It’s well within your rights to get a restraining order. If we were to catch them together, then there would be grounds for some criminal charges. But for the time being, without any corroborating evidence, that’s really your only option.”
“That’s it. A restraining order?”
“At this time, yes. I’m afraid that’s the only option right now unless we’re given more evidence confirming your allegations,” Miss Erikson repeated. Xander imagined himself reaching out, taking her by her skull and smashing her face-first into the table. Her nose broken, driven back into her little brain. Yet he kept that fantasy within. He walked on thin ice. One wrong step would land him a prison cell. In addition, now he had a reason to be concerned. Abby accused him of assault. Right now, they’re probably telling her the same thing: get an eyewitness, get a restraining order. Gather evidence. Their hands are tied. That meant he had some loose ends he needed to address. The sense of self-preservation overcame him. A much stronger drive than his primitive fatherly instincts. Jason and Connor posed as threats to him now. His own son threatened his survival.
“If that is what it is. I guess I have no other choice. I find this highly disconcerting that you can’t’ do more.”
“We wish we could, Mr. Valentine. We wish we could,” Miss Erikson stood from her seat. She offered a hand to Xander. Xander didn’t accept the hand. He hated this woman, her smugness, her fake smile. She didn’t wish for shit. She wanted her hands washed of this case so she can move onto the next wrong. Xander had been right all along. They were never going to take this case seriously. This bullshit. Absolute bullshit. The police are useless. Unless you fit perfectly in their narrative, they do jack shit. His thoughts raced through his head. Restlessness stirred deep within. He needed to get out there before it’s too late. He needed to run, run away, far away.
Once they exited to the hallway again, Xander hurried to the outside. In the parking lot, he finally halted, looking up at the noon sun. He slapped his knees as he inhaled sharply. He released a yell of frustration, catching the attention of onlookers. He ignored them as he approached his car. He breathed heavily, tried to steady himself. His chest ached with pain. Desperation overwhelmed him. His hands slapped the top of his car to make a thud. He leaned over his vehicle, breathing heavily. The world seemed to be spiraling out of control. His thoughts mixed. He hung his head. He caught the sight of icy blue eyes in the side mirror. He stared into his eyes. Breath in. Breath out. Slowly he returned to the world, regained control. He couldn’t afford to act rash. Whatever steps he took, he needed to be deliberate and cautious. One wrong move could land him in a prison cell for the foreseeable future. I refused to be caged. They’d never take me alive. Yet that thought scared him the most. Desperation made a man stupid and dangerous.
Slam! The cabinet doors cracked loudly, as wood met wood. Xander threw them violently opened, threatening to tear the doors off their hinges. He reached high in the top shelf of the corner cabinet and emerged with a bottle of bourbon. The first glass he smashed against the granite countertop shattered. Leading to another short but loud venture back into the cabinets. This time the glass didn’t break. He poured the liquor. He lifted the drink to his lips, inhaled before tossing his head back, devouring the drink. He hissed back at the burn of his throat. Xander Valentine had never been a real drinker in his life. Yet he wanted anything, anything to calm his nerves. He became enraged because he couldn’t help but feel threatened by this latest turn of events. Another glassful downed. He didn’t take the time to savor the quality of the bourbon. In some circles, he supposed that was sacrilege. He squeezed the highball in his hand. With a loud squeak, it imploded, and shards of glass bit into his hand. He wagged his hand, fresh scarlet droplets splattered against the floor. He cursed under his breath. He hated everything. Nothing ever went his way.
From the archway of the master bedroom, Hunter stood sentinel to her keeper’s temper tantrum. In his blind rage, as he spun loose within his home, he had not realized the presence of another. He sucked in a deep inhale. Two indigo eyes assessed him underneath arched eyebrows as he went about the kitchen. Upon the breaking of the second glass, Hunter clenched her jaw at the sight of blood. Finally, Xander came to an abrupt halt, his heels screeched against the tile. They locked eyes. For the moment, Xander sensed her disdain but she sallied forward to meet him. Her fingertips danced across his chest as she reached around him. Hunter lowered his head to her shoulder and with her free hand petted his head; her fingers combed through his short hair. She shushed him like a mother to the child. Xander considered his reaction a surprise; he thought the gesture to be mocking, but he found solace within the calming sound and comfort within her tight embrace. His heart slowed. His breaths became more controlled. He closed his eyes. He rolled his forehead back and forth across her shoulder.
“You can’t wrestle with a sliced-up hand,” Hunter spoke quietly into his ear. “Whatever happened, you’re here now.”
“I am.”
“Nothing’s going to touch you here. You’re safe.”
“You’re treating me like a blathering babe,” Xander protested weakly. He indulged in her scent; lavender floated into his flared nostrils. His mother’s perfume bore a lavender scent. At least, he led himself to believe that was his earliest memory of her. Lavender and the soft humming of a tune. “I might not be safe for much longer.”
“Is that so?”
“Abby managed to turn the tables on me. She had the audacity to report me for assault. Worse yet, the police are interested to hear about our late-night altercation. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the police. They have their doubts about my claims against her. They don’t want to believe me. They don’t want to believe that kind of person is a predator,” Xander lamented. He turned his head and he tapped her pale skin. He retreated from the embrace, harboring slight embarrassment for allowing accepting such a gesture from the woman. Her hands slipped to her side as her feline eyes gauged him. She wondered if he was right in the head. Was he? Xander wondered if his grasp on his life had slipped and this marked the start of another downward spiral.
“Did you bruised her?”
“Yep, I’m afraid so. Either way, she is telling the truth. I did lay my hands on her. Luckily, she hadn’t remembered biting me.” Xander lifted his sleeve to show the elliptical mark on his bicep. Xander lowered his eyes. He made a mess. The ruby tipped edges caught the reflection of the dim porch light filtering through the window shades. He should sweep up the glass. No one wore shoes. “The police painted the situation dire for me. All they needed was an account to collaborate her claims and they’ll fucking lock me up. They seem me for a street thug and her as a tormented victim.”
“So they’re not going to press charges against her.”
“It’s a two-way street. Without witnesses collaborating my account, primarily Connor, it’s my word against hers. Catch-22. For a case to be made against her, Connor would need to testify. I’m afraid he’d testify against the wrong individual if given the chance,” Xander bit his lip. He chewed on a scrape of skin hanging from his chapped bottom lip. What was he going to do? To make life easy, he should just accept that she was going to walk free. Why did he so care about bringing her to justice? His efforts bordered absurdity. To think he cared for the boy enough to go to such lengths. No, this fight made him feel more like a father, an act to play out the role of a protector. He used this as redemption, to make up for the lost time and broken promises. Such loathsome selfishness, not at all grounded in compassion for the boy nor any concern for his affliction. Xander did this for himself, to lessen the guilt he carried.
“And unlike you, she has willing witnesses, doesn’t she? Discounting your son, there still the issue of the boyfriend. You told me he was present that night. Logically thinking, she would turn to him. She doesn’t need your son.”
“Exactly,” Xander groaned. He snatched a third glass, much more gently, and poured another. Hunter swiped the drink and brought the liquid to her lips. Nervousness reared its ugly head again, his pulse started to accelerate. He watched Hunter try the bourbon. Her facial expression remained stoic.
“I did warn you.”
“You did.”
“But the die is cast. And right now, the hand you were dealt isn’t looking so promising. Any charges against you would be a violation of your probation,” Hunter contemplated aloud. Xander understood the threatening situation, thus why he had entered the house in such a panic. He didn’t want to go to jail. He couldn’t fathom being caged. Prison inspired terror. Whatever soothing effect Hunter’s cradling had definitely lessened as the conversation progressed. But sharing his plight with Hunter revealed a release; he didn’t consider himself alone in this mess. Hunter supported him. That realization dulled the terror’s edge. He understood he needed to make some calculations, perhaps take some risks, to skirt around this latest crisis. He hadn’t been dressed in an orange jumpsuit and he did not plan to ever. He still held onto his freedom. His fate hadn’t been set
“I could run the boyfriend out of town,” Hunter suggested. Xander didn’t know whether to take the proposal as a joke or a real offer. No, he didn’t want to dirty her hands. She didn’t need to clean up his mess. He would hate that. She needed to remain innocent. After all, Xander was indebted to her, not the other way around.
“I’ll figure something out. Life would be a lot better if I could get through to the lad,” Xander motioned to Connor’s room. To his surprise, the lanky giant rested against the door frame. Half his body consumed by the darkness contained in the bedroom. His fist visible, hammered his thigh. He clicked his tongue when he realized his detection. Connor turned to fully reveal himself. He rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Speaking of the devil.”
“Well, well, well… it seems you’re certainly in some trouble, Dad,” Connor said. Confidence laced his tone as he strode towards his father with his chin lifted with defiance.
“Connor…” Xander muttered, almost as a warning.
Connor ignored his father; instead, Connor threatened, “It’d be a shame if I ran to the police, don’t you think? Despite my grades in school, I can be very verbose for my age. I think I could paint a pretty picture of your evil abuse. After all, they’d trust me. To think my father’s an abusive monster who framed my nanny and assaulted us both. They don’t have to look far into the past to see the reports of domestic violence.”
“You little cunt,” Xander caught himself spitting in his son’s direction. Fists clenched. Saint Anger tightened around his neck. The angels of rage chirping in his mind. Instincts prodded him to lunge forward and attack this emergent threat. “How dare you threaten me, boy. You live under my roof. I provide for you. And this is my reward? You need to check yourself. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing? You deprived me so much in my life. You robbed me of my childhood. You robbed me of my mother. After all, you broke her. You left her a shell of herself. Now, you’re acting as if you’re my guardian. You’re nothing of the sort. You can’t even protect yourself,” Connor uttered as he stepped up to his father. He poked his father’s chest to add emphasis to his words. The boy considered himself untouchable. Xander easily could deprive him of his life. The thought did flash through his mind. He held back against the scalding torrents washing over his soul.
“What exactly you plan on doing? Are you going to turn me into the police? Try it.”
“Exactly. With you in jail, you can’t interfere in my life. You won’t be able to come between me and Abby. I’ll finally be free of you.”
“Clearly, you haven’t fucking thought this through.” Xander reached forward to snatch the boy’s hand. He tightened his grasp, crushing the boy’s hand. He reluctantly tossed the hand aside. His coagulated blood smeared across the back of Connor’s hand. “With me gone, you’ll be sent away. You’ll be placed in the foster system and by all accounts, I heard horror stories. You’ll never see Abby. Maybe you get lucky. Maybe you end up with someone with good character. Or maybe, you’ll end up with a devil far worse than me.”
“You think I’m afraid? I fear nothing. You act like this is a real home. That’s bullshit! But… I can keep my mouth shut. Nothing changes. Abby’s free. You’re free. I’ll sneak out while you’re away or asleep. No better yet, I’ll go live with Abby. You’ll open up a bank account for me, pay for my living expenses while never having to endure me. That’s a win for both of us, isn’t it?”
“You’re blackmailing me? ME?” Xander roared. With his hands, he reached forward to clutch his son’s neck. Before he could strangle the boy, Hunter broke the hold. She squeezed between father and son. With a stiff hand, she shoved Connor’s back by the jaw. A much softer touch placed on Xander’s chest. Both Xander and Connor breathed heavily, their eyes locking. Their fists clenched. Despite Connor’s large stature for his age, Xander remained the juggernaut. He’d most likely win any struggle.
“Enough!” Hunter cried. Hunter first turned to Xander, “Don’t make matters worse. Control yourself. You’re letting him goad you.”
“You should listen to your bitch,” Connor taunted from behind Hunter.
WHACK! Hunter backhanded Connor’s across the face. Connor staggered backward. The impact strong enough, he fell to one knee. He immediately held the side of his face where her knuckles left a bright red mark. “Bitch? Have some respect, child. You’re not in any position to demand anything. You’re still a child and have much to learn about how this world operates.”
“You think I’m afraid of either of you?” Connor stood. “I can ruin you both. And I should! You’re robbing me of the only love I have in my life. You keep stealing from me, Dad! You keep fucking stealing from me!”
“I’m trying to protect you!” Xander answered back. His voice wavered, cracking. The statement didn’t sound convincing at all, even Xander failed to believe the claim. That’s because they both knew this had been all make-believe. Xander did this for himself. An adult male who played house at his age, what a joke!
“Go back to your room,” Hunter ordered Connor. She pressed her hand onto Xander’s chest, right over his heart to keep him at bay. Xander could power through, toss her aside, and attack his son; however, that hand restrained him. He considered doing so, after all, Connor ushered the panic racing through his mind. So many thoughts, all dire warnings about the future. His demise was imminent.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Connor responded. Hunter bored her teeth as she raised her face alongside his. Connor and her exchange eye contact. Finally, Connor broke it, backpedaling, not towards his room but towards the front door. He saluted them both. “Remember, Dad, that I have you by the balls. Don’t bother following me. If you do, I’ll go to the police and I’ll reveal to them all the abuse.”
“Get your ass back here, boy,” Xander demanded. Hunter latched onto his body, holding him back.
“See you later,” Connor waved before he went out into the night. The screen door snapped back to note his exit. Xander released a frustrated cry. Hunter rubbed his side to steady him. He didn’t know what his son would do. He might still go to the police. If he did turn to the police, accused him, Xander would be finished. He had zero credibility due to the history of violence. His son’s account would be damning. Even though his son hadn’t thought everything through, youth made fools out of everyone. Connor thirsted for the comfort of that damn woman. He would do anything if he believed he had a small chance to be with her. Right now, Xander guessed Connor was on his way to Abby. And if he knew any better, Abby would welcome the boy with open arms and open legs, whispering her toxic influence into his ear. She could convince him to go to the police. He would listen. He supposedly loves her after all.
Xander crouched to the floor, steadying himself with a single hand on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut. He brought his hands to his head. He wanted to howl. His son had become his worst enemy, the greatest threat to his freedom and wellbeing. What was he supposed to do? He considered snatching his money from the bank, fleeing the country, and set himself up nicely in Thailand or some other small Asian country. No, he wouldn’t run. He refused to lose to Abby. He refused to submit to his son. There had to be a way out.
Hunter led him to bed, but he didn’t sleep that night. Too many thoughts.
He buried his feet in the sand after a few steps. The whooshing sound the rolling ocean waves made eased him. The tide came, wetted his ankles. In the distance, the calming roar of thunder traveled across the coastal surroundings, almost as if the rumble tumbled across the horizon. The rain hadn’t started yet, but the sea’s swashing sprayed water onto Xander’s face. Lightning struck the water over the ocean, God’s trident thrust downwards from the angry skies. He didn’t know how far, nor did he care. A voice in his head, a small voice but still a voice, called out for the lightning to strike him dead there. Dying here would be easy. But a much louder voice, his true voice, defied that death wish. No matter the circumstances, no matter the agony he endured, survival instincts always reined him in. There were plenty of times he thought he better off dead, if not for his sake then for the sake of others, especially those close around him that his existence hurt. There were a few times Xander contemplated suicide. He never developed a plan, acknowledging the errant desire but never an attempt to mold a reality from that clay. Perhaps, he thought maybe Calli and Connor would finally be freed if he has left the realm of the living. His ashes would signal liberation for his family. He feared death too much. He didn’t have that courage to sacrifice himself for the good of others. No, Xander Valentine likened himself like a cockroach. He would survive no matter what, even if he had to eat shit off the ground, he would survive.
Xander swallowed the last of his pride. He hit three on the dial pad. The phone rapid-fire chimed, played a unique melody of choppy electronic tones. Xander started to walk along the shoreline as the phone rang.
“I’ve been expecting your call,” Chad Evans answered. Xander could sense the smugness from the other end. Chad enjoyed this. He knew Xander wouldn’t call unless he desperately needed help. And yes, Xander needed help right now more than ever. He didn’t care if that simply meant adding to his debt, he owed Chad. He’ll probably never been free of servitude.
“Jason. Abby’s boyfriend. He presents a risk,” Xander responded.
“The boyfriend, huh? What do you want me to do about him?
“Abby’s accused me of assaulting her that night. While I highly doubted Jason caught a good look at my face, how many men, almost seven feet tall, are there in the world? I’m afraid that he’ll identify me.”
“Maybe your dumbass should have greeted, with open arms, the opportunity to settle this mess when the opportunity presented itself. Could’ve tied up loose ends. Ever thought of that?” Chad questioned. Xander swore he heard snickering in the background. Chad toyed with him. Chad enjoyed having his former in-ring nemesis at his mercy. Why? Why did Xander ever have to get involved with Chad and his games? Why did he ever accept any assistance from the man? Xander loathed him. He resented the position he assumed, having to grovel before Chad.
“I’m not a murderer.”
“You everything but a murderer? You’re a fucking rapist. You’re a fucking kidnapper. You’re a goddamn wifebeater. You’re all kinds of trash, but you’re too good for murder?” Chad’s questions seemed to dance into existence, almost whimsically. The laundry list of sins haunted Xander. Chad understood Xander harbored guilt towards his treatment of his family, especially the abuse he perpetrated over the years. He recognized Xander’s regret over Hunter’s rape. So, the injuries, the self-inflicted cuts on the soul, Chad enjoyed pouring salt in those unseen wounds. That provided Chad with the entertainment his libertine mind doggedly pursued. The only reason Chad kept Xander around, provided Xander with significant assistance, was because Xander amused him. Most of all, Xander’s suffering.
“If I killed, then what? What bastion of hope I would have. I would have become everything I feared I would.”
“What are you asking me, Xander? Stop beating around the god damn bush. Are you wanting this Jason murdered because you’re afraid he might speak out against you and back up your dirty nanny’s account? Maybe you should haven’t half-assed your visit. Either stayed away or killed them all.”
“I don’t care what happens to him as long as he remains silent. The courts can’t catch a whiff of any potential wrongdoing on my part. If they do, I’m screwed.”
“If you went ahead, asked me precisely to tie up the loose ends by whatever means, clean up your mess once again, you don’t feel any responsibility? If I had the man killed on your request, wouldn’t it be the same as pulling the trigger yourself?” Again, with the questions, Chad’s tone frolicked between low notes and high. To him, this was nothing but a game. Xander’s simply a piece to move, a living plaything.
Xander’s dodged, “I can’t go to jail.”
“Then maybe, just maybe, you should have thought about that before you made a whole mess out of this entire ordeal. Should have killed them both when you had the chance.”
“Enough of this shit! Are you willing to help me or not?”
“Now why should I? I might consider helping you, Xander. But you haven’t really done much for me lately. You passed on my earlier gift, now you want me to help you out again. Let’s hear you beg. Plead for your life like a lil bitch then maybe I’ll consider your request,” Chad demanded. Rage shot through Xander’s body, raced through his mind. Chad mocked him. Chad humiliated him. But why choice did he have? He’d eat shit off the ground if that meant survival.
He spat. He swallowed his pride again. He inhaled sharply, looking up at the sky above. “Please. I beg of you, Chad. Help me out here. I’m at your mercy.”
To Xander’s dismay, Chad laughed, provoking static on the other hand. Xander waited for a response, a definitive answer. He listened closely. Each passing second seemed like forever. Each second, he agonized. He had nothing. His fate depended on a man who he hated.
“Xander, you’re a delightful fool sometimes. I already planned on silencing the man. Let’s say that I’m going to make him a significant offer. The man has debts. Debts that threatened his life,” Chad revealed. Xander wanted to scream. Xander wanted to scream. Chad dragged him through this conversation for his own amusement. Relief should have washed over Xander’s soul, eased him down from the ledge. Instead, anger boiled over inside him. Chad toyed with him. Fucking Chad toyed his emotions.
Xander managed a response: “Fuck you.”
“Now is that the thanks I deserved? I’m going to remind you now, Xander. My reach has limits and your future rests within those limits. I can ruin your pathetic ass. I can save you. I’m your God, don’t forget to say your prayers,” Chad ended the conversation on that note. The blip sounded off in Xander’s ear, in the darkened surroundings, his phone’s light lit up the side of his face. Xander released a primal roar, tossing the phone deep into the ocean. He should had felt relief hearing Chad’s promise. Chad aimed to quiet the only other witness to Xander’s recent transgressions. But what if? What if Jason’s love for Abby triumphed his self-preservation instincts? Love made people stupid. Xander screamed out towards the sea. He drowned in a sense of helplessness. Infuriated that his fate rested in the hands of his arch-nemesis and spiteful son.
He needed to escape.
The doorbell rang. The chimes echoed throughout the empty house. Abigail walked around to the bay window looking into the living room. She placed a single hand over, pressing against the glass pane to block out the sun’s glare. There was stillness inside the residence, a ranch-style home, close enough to the ocean to hear the wailing seagulls. The breeze off the ocean left a salty aftertaste. Her heart raced. She risked her life by coming here, but with all the happenings surrounding her, she needed a lay her fears to rest. Even if that might have meant her life reaching its end. She pressed down the hem of her dress as she started around the back of the house, walking along the walkway, her flipflops slapping against the stone. She came to a tall fence. She hopped over the gate; aged wood scrapped against her exposed thighs. Her eyes darted; danger could lunge out from around every corner. More importantly, she sought out clues that might allow her to determine Jason’s whereabouts.
Immediately, she located a freshly dug garden. Nauseating dread rose into her chest. Young green plants cropped up from the newly tilled earth. Were Jason’s remains buried underneath the budding flowers? She crept forward, coming to a stop. She knelt and scooped up a handful of dirt. Would she share his fate? A smart individual would run. Go to the police! After all, she hadn’t heard from or seen Jason for an entire week. He vanished one night. She needed Jason. Not only did he provide her a sanctuary, but the cops wanted him to collaborate her claims of assault. He appeared to be the lynchpin that held together their case against Xander. The detectives had been highly skeptical of her account of that particular evening, deeming a parade of black SUV and masked gunmen to be more fitting of a Netflix Original than a true crime story. She would not truly be safe until that monster is locked behind bars. Then she would sue for guardianship of Connor. That dream tasted sweet. Lazy summer days, laying in a hammock, embraced by Connor’s arms. Skin gently baked by the overhead sun.
Tires crackled on the degrading asphalt of the driveway. A symphony of closed doors played out. They’re home. Xander and his bitch that was. Panic raised in her. She wanted to flee. No, Xander was going to explain to her Jason’s disappearance. She wanted the truth, the byproduct of some morbid curiosity. Abigail was going to use her leverage against him. She’s untouchable. Unlike Jason, if she disappeared, the detectives would immediately name Xander as a prime suspect in her disappearance. From her understanding, the man stood on thin ice. The detectives even hinted that all they needed was an eyewitness and any jury would convict the thug. Not only did his history of violence lend credence, but he also looked the part. That jutted jaw, the flat nose, he appeared dangerous. She turned towards the glass sliding doors and she leaped out of her skin, Xander stared at her. His woman clasped his arm and chest as if to hold him back. He shook her off, opened the sliding door.
“You have some nerve being here, bitch,” Xander growled in a raspy voice. He always sounded as if he needed a cough drop.
“Where’s Jason?”
“What? He didn’t say farewell. Call me heartbroken.”
“Did you kill him?” Abby questioned. Xander covered his mouth with his hand. He concealed his snickering laughter. Hunter rounded him. Her hand now pressed on his chest. She seemed fearful of his reaction to Abigail’s presence and accusations.
“Honestly? I don’t know where the little shit is. All I know that he took the money and ran. It wasn’t hard to convince him, seeing as he owed money to the wrong people. He paid his debts and sought out a new life, far away from you it appears,” Xander revealed. Abigail backpedaled, her neatly trimmed eyebrowed arched with confusion. Jason would never abandon her. Jason loved her too much. He wanted nothing more but to remain in her life, even willing to play second fiddle to Connor.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Everyone has a price.”
“Jason would never abandon me.”
“But he did. Now there’s no one that’s going to believe your little story about that night. You’re all alone now,” Xander said. He placed both hands on Hunter’s shoulders and gently moved her aside. As he passed, he motioned his hands down, disarming Hunter as if to assure her that he wasn’t going to do anything reckless. Abby’s doe eyes fixated on the approaching giant. “I hate everything about you. There’s nothing more than I would like to do but strangle you. You’ve been a thorn in my side.”
“Why are you so against us being together?”
“Why?! It’s not right. It’s not natural.”
“You have never given any care about your son’s wellbeing. And trust me, he has never seen this much love in this life. This is good for him. Are you jealous? She doesn’t give you enough TLC?” Abby propped her hands onto her hips. She jutted her chest forward, trying to disguise her fear. He scared her. Who wouldn’t be in this man’s presence?
“I’ve reneged on my responsibilities as a father for too long. I lied to myself, believing that I could put my faith in others. I trusted you. You betrayed my trust. I don’t take lightly to betrayals.”
“What do you plan on doing? I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to kill me? Let’s be real here.”
“The thought has crossed my mind.”
“If I disappear, they instantly going look to you as a probable murderer.”
“And thus, the reason why you’re still alive… for now,” Xander walked past her. He knelt down to inspect at his nascent flowers. He sighed heavily. “I’ll take back what I said, rescind my accusations, but you have to leave. We can end this mess right now. Stop. Before you protest, let me paint you a pretty picture. You’ll leave town. You start a new life. You can stop looking over your shoulder, no longer having to be fearful that I might have finally snapped. You don’t look back. Great times ahead for everyone involved.”
“You think I’m going to abandon Connor?”
“I think you don’t have a choice. You must understand that eventually, I’m going to take matters into my own hands. In fact, I’m wrapping up some loose ends professionally. My finances are great. Enough money to skip town to a country that doesn’t extradite, start my life anew,” Xander speculated aloud. Abby narrowed her eyes into a glare. Her hands fell to her side, where they bunched up a handful of the dress. Her nails dug into her thighs. He had to be bluffing, right?
“Then what about Connor?”
“I’ll take him with me.”
“I love him. I’m not going to let that happen. You’re not going to rob him of the only love he has in his life.”
“I do what I want,” Xander warned. He stood, dusting off his dirtied knees. He pointed a finger at her. “You’re… you’re in no position to negotiate. You’ll leave tonight. No farewells. Just pack a bag and get the fuck away. I’m not playing around here.”
“I refuse.”
“You sure?” Xander approached. She continued to back away until she found herself pressed firmly against the tall wooden fence. A splinter stabbed her in the lower back. “I’m giving you the opportunity here. Against my better judgment, against my desire to hurt you, I am willing to let you go, unscathed. Don’t be fucking stupid. Run.”
“I’ll scream,” Abby threatened. “Right now, I’ll scream for help.”
“You’re trespassing and you’re in violation of the restraining order I have taken out on you. I’ll strangle you. Place a kitchen knife in your hand. I’ll say you came at me,” Hunter finally broke her silence. Xander and Abigail both turned towards Hunter. She revealed a rare pearly smile. Abigail exchanged glances between Xander and Abigail. She shook her head. She circled around Xander, heading towards the fence gate, tripping over a divot in the back yawn. She regained her balance. She needed to get out of there. These two were dangerous and she didn’t believe they were hedging their bets.
“So what are you going to do, Abby?” Xander called out after her. “Hey! Don’t be stupid, alright! Just run, don’t ever look back!”
Abby picked up the pace as she ran through the fence’s gate, out into the open streets. She didn’t stop running until she reached her car, parked down the street a little way. Her sandals slapped against the concrete, picking up a pebble, which proceeded bore into her sole. She reached in her purse for her keys, but they spilled out with clang. She knelt down to scoop them up, but stopped, her labored breathes burned her lungs. Tears flowed. What was she thinking? She had never been so afraid in her life. Finally, she managed to lift the keys and secured herself in her car. What about Connor? Was she really going to leave him behind? She looked up to see Xander standing there on his front lawn. The look he gave her. She had to leave. She had to look out for herself. She didn’t know what that man would. She didn’t know what his reach was. He rolled up with armed men the last time. With Jason now gone, she didn’t have anyone to shield her. But Connor… but Connor!
Executioner's Plight 