Stranded with My Stepbrother Chapter 39

-Jacey-

“You’re telling me you don’t know where he is?!” my father demanded.

I sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at the comforter. Caleb was gone. He’d tried to call, and my father had snatched the phone away. Now, my father had my phone, and I had no idea where Caleb could be. “I don’t know his friends, Dad.”

My father leaned in. “You’d better not be lying to me.”

“I’m not! Maybe if you let me have my phone, I can find out where he is!” I argued.

“Not a chance. You’ll probably run off with him to his apartment,” my father scoffed.

Well, yeah, that was kind of the idea. “No, I won’t,” I lied.

“Jacey, you’ve always been a bad liar,” my father said. “Now you sit right here and reflect on how disrespectful you’ve been to me and your mother.”

“Jeanie is not my mother,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

My father stabbed his finger in his face. “I am tired of the two of you trying to rip this family apart.”

“We’re not trying to rip the family apart!” I insisted.

“Well, you’re doing a good job of it anyway. Now you sit here and reflect,” my father said.

“I’m eighteen, Dad. You can’t just lock me away!” I protested.

“Watch me.” My father went to the door and took the skeleton key out. Then he shut it and locked it from the other side.

I raced to Caleb’s room, but it was already too late. My father took Caleb’s key and locked his door as well.

“Sonofabitch,” I whispered to myself. I went back and sat on my bed, hugging Cheer Bear to my chest.

All I could think about was Caleb. I was so worried he’d ended up out on the streets.

I was also worried about his nightmares. I’d wanted to crawl in his bed with him so many times, but had to refrain. Stupid Jeanie.

Speaking of whom, there was a soft knock on my door a few hours later. “Jacey?”

“What?” I glared at the door.

“Your father and I were hoping you’d come out for supper,” Jeanie said.

“Are you going to let me out?” I asked, trying not to get my hopes up.

The door lock slowly began to click open.

When Jeanie opened the door, I rushed at her and pushed her aside. She gasped in surprise and protectively held her belly, even though I didn’t push her that hard.

Still, I used the confusion to run for the front door.

“Jacey?” my father called.

“Hank, she’s trying to run away!” Jeanie yelled.

My father appeared and ran at me, grabbing my arm as I opened the front door. “Not so fast, young lady!”

Panicked, I tried to pull away from him, but my father had superior strength. His fingers dug into my arm. I knew it would leave a bruise.

“Let me go!” I shouted. “Let me go!”

“Young lady, I’ve had just about enough of this nonsense,” my father snapped. “Now you get back in your room and…”

Jeanie wandered in, looking dazed.

My father did not release his grip on me but turned to Jeanie just the same while I struggled. “What’s wrong, love?”

“She… pushed me,” Jeanie said, stunned.

“She… while you’re pregnant?!” my father gaped.

Jeanie just nodded mutely.

My father turned back to me, his expression darker than I’d ever seen. “How dare you. How DARE you hurt your stepmother and risk our baby!”

“I didn’t–” I began.

I didn’t see the punch coming.

All I remembered was hearing, “Hank, no!”

***

When I woke up, it was dark. Jeanie was sitting next to my bed, and there was a cool rag on my cheek.

“Oh, there you are,” Jeanie said, sounding relieved. “I was beginning to worry.”

I slapped her hand away. The rag fell to the floor with a soft, wet plop.

Jeanie winced. “I’m sorry–your father’s sorry-”

“Get out,” I interrupted her, my voice dripping venom.

“Jacey…”

“OUT!” I shouted.

Jeanie paled and rose from the desk chair she’d pulled up next to my bed. “I’ll check on you later,” she said softly then slipped out of my room and closed and locked the door.

I sat up and winced, my head spinning. When I finally righted myself, I went into the bathroom to survey the damage.

In the harsh light of the bathroom, I saw my cheek was split wide open on my cheekbone.

My hands balled into fists. I’d lost consciousness and those bastards hadn’t even bothered to take me to the hospital!

I tried touching the spot with my fingertips, but it stung something terrible and continued to throb when I pulled my hand away.

Maybe it would scar.

My breathing hitched. My father had been angry. My father had been livid. But he’d never hit me before.

Every bit of him I’d held up on a pedestal crumbled and fell away. My father was a Class A sonofabitch.

I tried very hard not to cry. Very, very hard. The tears would only sting the wound.

But they came anyway, and I quickly held a Kleenex under my right eye to catch the tears that threatened to spill down my cheek.

Then a tapping sound came from my room. Not wood, but glass.

I wondered if it had started storming outside, and it was hailing, but I went to check out the noise just the same.

There was Caleb.

I undid the locks on my window and cranked it open. “Caleb!”

Caleb took one look at me and a scowl descended over his face. “What happened?”

“I tried to get away,” I explained.

“And?” Caleb prompted.

With a sniffle, I looked down at the windowsill. “Dad punched me.”

Caleb turned white with anger. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No, please, Caleb. Let’s just go. Please, get me out of here,” I begged.

“That’s where I come in,” another man said, coming to stand next to Caleb.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Caleb’s friend, Will.” Will flicked open a Swiss Army knife and began cutting the screen.

I tugged the crank on the window, even though I knew it wouldn’t open far enough for me to get through. “It’s no use trying to get me out this way. Even with the screen off, the window still doesn’t open far en-”

Caleb kicked the screen in once Will sliced it open then kicked the window frame. It made a godawful crashing sound and the glass shattered, but it did crack right off its hinges and leave space enough for me to get out.

Unfortunately, I was sure it also alerted my father.

I glanced nervously at my door.

“Come on, baby,” Caleb said, holding out his arms.

I carefully tiptoed around the glass and broken wood, then crawled through the screen and dropped into Caleb’s arms.

The door rattled behind me, and I glanced up in fear.

“Let’s go,” Will hissed. “Escape now, murder later.”

Caleb glowered at my bedroom window for a moment, but just as my father came bursting into the room, he set me down and took my hand.

And we ran.

We ran straight to a black Hummer, and Will jumped into the front seat while Caleb launched us into the back.

My father was just coming out of the house with his gun when Will hit the accelerator and we drove away.

“Hospital?” Will asked after we were about a mile away from my house.

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “We’ve got to get her stitched up.”

I winced at the idea, but Caleb was probably right.

Caleb pulled me into his lap and held me close. “Jacey. Jesus.”

“He hit me. He’s never hit me before. I don’t… I don’t even know what to think,” I whispered to Caleb.

“He’s an asshole. That’s all you need to think. In fact, let’s take thinking off the table altogether and just get you healed up, okay?” Caleb kissed me carefully and held me as though I were made of spun glass.

I curled into him and sobbed, even though it stung.

“Baby… baby, I love you. I’m gonna take care of you,” Caleb murmured soothingly, stroking my hair.

Will deftly navigated us onto a highway.

“I thought we were going to the hospital?” I asked.

“We are. In the cities. Lord only knows what happens in a small town hospital. They might hand you right back over to your father,” Will pointed out.

“Good thinking,” Caleb said.

The trip up to the cities only took half an hour. Will dropped us off at the front doors of Urgent Care and then went to park the Hummer.

Caleb helped me navigate the process of requesting services without insurance or identification.

We were sitting in the waiting area, Will regaling me with stories of Caleb’s Stanford shenanigans when the police showed up.

They went to the front desk, and the attendant pointed our way.

“Oh God…” I whispered. “Do you think it’s Dad?”

“I think Hank’s the type who would have come in person, but let’s see,” Caleb said calmly.

The policemen walked over to us. I gripped Caleb’s hand.

“Ma’am,” one of the officers began. “We were told you were the victim of an assault.”

An assault? I looked at Caleb.

“Well, yeah,” Caleb replied for me. “Her dad punched her in the face.”

“I’d like to hear that from you, please,” the officer said, turning to me.

I swallowed. “Yes. My father punched me in the face.”

“I see.” The officer made notes on a pad. “Would you mind telling me the circumstances?”

“Um…” I chewed my lower lip. I suddenly worried I was going to get my father in trouble.

“Go on,” Caleb encouraged me, squeezing my hand. “I’m right here.”

I took a deep breath. “I was trying to get out. My father… locked me in my room.”

The officer stared up at me. “It says here you’re eighteen.”

“I am, Officer,” I responded.

“And your father locked you up against your will?” the officer asked.

“Y-Yes…” I looked at the pad where the officer was making notes. “I tried to get away, and I pushed my stepmom, and it made my father angry–she’s pregnant, you see. I didn’t push her hard. I wouldn’t hurt her or anything. She just happened to be between me and the door.”

The officer grimaced. “So your father became angry.”

“Very,” I said.

“And that’s when he punched you,” the officer continued.

“Yes, officer, that’s when he punched me. When Jeanie told him I pushed her,” I replied.

“Does she need a lawyer or something?” Will asked, frowning at the officers.

The officer taking notes and asking the questions shook his head. “No. But Hank Collins might.”

“What? Why?” I glanced from one officer to the other.

“Assault and false imprisonment,” the officer said. “To start.” He looked at me. “Would you like to press charges?”