Fugitive

“John, please stop! You’re hurting me.”

At the far end of the hallway, Lucy could hear the screaming from her mother’s bedroom. She paused on the stairs and listened again. It was not fear she felt, nor was it danger she sensed. How could an occurrence that took place at least once a week scare her anyway?

“Crap. He’s hitting her again,” Lacy, Lucy’s sister, whispered.

There was fear in Lacy’s voice. Lucy glanced at Lacy and shook her head. The younger girl had always had a soft heart. Lucy, on the other hand, was sick of everything and would rather be anywhere else in the world than in this house. A permanent escape from this hellhole had been her only wish on her eighteenth birthday one week ago. There was no sign that this wish was close to coming to pass, but Lucy held on to hope. The thought of seeing her mother’s bruised face for the umpteenth time irked her. But there was nothing left for her to d0. She consoled herself with the fact that she had at least tried to do many things about it before now.

“I’m going to my room,” Lucy rasped, before proceeding up the stairs.

“Lucy,” Lacy grabbed her by the arm, her breath already heavy with panic, her heavy bust heaving softly. “We need to help her. He could really hurt her this time. Don’t be like this.”

“This time?” Lucy scoffed, yanking her arm away from her sister’s grasp and staring into her sister’s coffee brown eyes. “There’s no saving mom, Lacy. You need to understand this so you can sleep well at night. Besides, this won’t be the last time John practices his boxing on her. You can save her another day. Go to bed, Lacy.”

Lucy stared emotionlessly at Lacy, then stormed up the stairs, irritated with her sister too now. The loud grunts and screams that echoed through the hallway broke her heart and made her want to punch a hole in the wall, but Lucy refused to allow herself to feel pity. Her bitterness was nothing her headphones and loud rock music couldn’t fix. She’d be asleep in no time.

On getting to her room, Lucy walked up to the window and lifted it open, allowing fresh air to pour into the room. She sat on the window sill, inhaling deeply while fighting back the hot tears that stung her eyes. Sometimes, she wondered if their neighbors heard the screams and chose to ignore them, or if they didn’t hear them at all. Their mom had always been good at hiding her injuries from everyone.

It never made any sense to Lucy how her mother could stick to the side of such a horrible man for so long, continually making excuses for him. She constantly maintained that John was a nice man who was ‘going through a lot.’ Lucy laughed, wiping the tears that had made their way down her face as she recalled her mother’s numerous excuses any time Lucy begged for her to leave John. It had taken a while, but Lucy had finally mastered the art of looking the other way.

“Let me go!”

Lucy’s ears twitched at the sound of Lacy’s voice. She cursed under her breath as she dashed out of the room, fuming. A million thoughts raced through her mind on her way to her mother’s room. The dominant one was killing John if he as little as hurt a strand of hair on Lacy’s head.

When she saw John’s hands wrapped around Lacy’s neck, her heart’s thumping was all she heard. Her gaze trailed down her sister’s body. Lacy’s top was ripped, revealing her black bra and bare skin. Lucy’s breaths came in drawn-out huffs, her chest rose and her cheeks puffed as she took slow steps to John. She wasn’t scared of him. She’d never been and now, she felt enough rage to combust.

“What do you want?” John rasped, not letting go of Lacy’s neck. “A beating too?”

He was much bigger than her, but at about six feet, they were around the same height. John’s advantage was that he was thick set with tight muscles and a broader chest that revealed red, bulging veins whenever he yelled.

“Let go of her,” Lucy shouted, tightening her hand into a fist. “Get your hand off her, now.”

John smirked, then tossed Lacy to the side. He took small steps in Lucy’s direction, flexing his wrist. “I don’t like your tone, young lady.”

“John, stop,” Rita, her mother, grabbed John by the foot to prevent him from going any further. “Stay out of this, Lucy. Go to your room, now.”

Lucy turned to glare at her mother on the ground. “You know me, mom. I would gladly stay out of your business since it’s evident that you enjoy this drunkard’s punches. I would have turned the other way if he didn’t just hit Lacy.”

“Did you just call me a drunkard?” John bellowed, waving his finger in the air. “You had better shut your damn mouth, silly little twat.”

The tension in the room made breathing difficult. Her palms were sweaty and she wiped them on her jeans. Avoiding any altercation with John had always been top on her list, but she was now down to her last straw. If only her mother had ended things with John when she begged her to, Lacy wouldn’t be lying on the floor, panting, with a rapidly purpling bruise on her face.

“Someone needs to put you in your goddamn place, Lucy,” John said, walking slowly to her, like a stalking predator.

Even from the distance between them, she could smell the booze oozing out of his mouth. He was taking small gradual steps, visibly enjoying the way she shook as he approached. Fear was chipping at her fury, tempting her to crumble, and the sneer on his face meant he could see it. And she was starting to crumble, but she arrested the collapse before it got too far. She wasn’t going to wait for him to come to her.

She charged at John. Her determined scream filled the room as she threw herself at him. She went for his waist, grabbing and pushing him with all the force she could conjure but he was too strong. He staggered two steps backward before gaining his composure again.

“You little thing,” he scoffed. “Who do you think you are?”

John grabbed her by the arm and pried her off his body, before throwing her in the other direction. Her body crashed into the wall and she slid to the floor. A painful groan followed. She tried to stand up but her knees kept giving way.

"After everything I've done for you ingrates," John screamed, shaking his head. He turned back and walked towards Rita again. “This is all your fault, stupid bitch.”

His voice broke something in Lucy. Anytime she heard him speak to her mother that way, a switch went off in her head. Lucy couldn’t stand it. That was the reason she acted unconcerned. It was better not to hear it because she couldn’t do anything about it. But she was involved now.

“Leave them alone.”

Lucy got on her feet and charged at John again. She attacked blindly, without a plan or as little as a clear head. Just when she reached him, John grabbed her by the throat and held her at arm's length. She struggled, but there was nothing she could do. Her hands weren’t close enough to scratch him and her feet couldn’t leave the ground or else she’d lose control and fall.

He let go of her neck and at the same time, he raised his other fist and swung it at her. His knuckles crunched against her cheeks. It took a split second, then she felt the sharp, banging pain. She hurtled backwards, tripping over her feet before hitting the ground, completely out cold.