Like live with King.
I had wanted to do that for a long time but it always got shut down.
I popped my head up from the bed and saw Jim entering my room. He was holding a bottle of scotch.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“That’s no way to talk to me,” he said in a slurred voice. “You’re getting that bitchy attitude from your aunt.”
“Get out of my room.”
“This is my room,” he said. “Every room in this house is my room. I pay the fucking mortgage, don’t I? I pay for everything.”
Jim stumbled to my closet and opened it. He started to tear clothes out, throwing them to floor. Each time he did so, he said I paid for this!, which wasn’t true at all. I worked hard. I saved money. I bought my own stuff.
I climbed out of bed, secretly tucking my cell phone into my back pocket.
“Jim, please don’t,” I said.
He turned and was holding a tank top. “I’d like to see you in this. Nothing but this.”
“Ew,” I said.
He threw the tank top to the floor. “You owe me. Teasing me for a long time. Knowing what you look like. Knowing the kind of guy I am.”
A second later he was touching me. One hand on my shoulder, the other hand reaching for my waist. I swung my foot, kicking his shin. He let out a yell and then lifted his hand, slapping me against my jaw. I fell back into my desk, knocking over a lamp.
Jim came after me, his body was too close to mine. There was something disgusting burning in his eyes.
“Help!” I screamed.
Jim cackled. He grabbed my hair and turned, pulling me toward my bed.
My bedroom door blasted open again and Aunt Jane was there.
“Jim!” she yelled. “No!”
“Shut up!” Jim yelled. “This is her fault. I’m going to make everyone pay for this.”
Aunt Jane came after Jim. She hit him with her shoulder, sending him stumbling away from me.
I kicked back on the bed and grabbed for my cell phone.
I watched in horror as Jim and Aunt Jane were literally wrestling each other. Spinning around. Aunt Jane hitting the dresser, sending the TV to the edge. Picture frames crashing to the floor. Grunts. Growls. Curse words. Nasty words like slut and cunt being thrown around.
I was never so scared in all my life.
So I did what felt right - even if it was wrong.
I sent a text to King.
BY THE TIME King got to the house, the situation had calmed a little. Aunt Jane and I were downstairs in the kitchen, both of us frazzled and crying.
King was at the back door, opening it, rushing inside.
“Where is he?” King asked.
“What did you do?” Aunt Jane asked me.
I opened my mouth but I couldn’t respond.
“You two stay right here,” King said.
“Wait!” I cried out.
But King was already on the move.
He literally met Jim face to face at the large archway of the kitchen. Jim had another bottle of booze in his hand.
“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jim said when he saw King.
King put a hand out and pushed at Jim’s chest. “You stay the fuck back. You’re done here.”
“Get the fuck out of my house, asshole.”
“You touched them?” King asked. “You put your hands on not one woman, but two? One you married? One I love?”
“Fuck off, punk,” Jim said.
King swung and punched the bottle out of Jim’s hand. It hit the floor and broke.
Jim jumped at King.
“Stop!” Aunt Jane yelled.
But it was too late.
This was a long time coming and building.
King grabbed Jim by the shirt and spun him around and threw him into the kitchen island. He went right after Jim, throwing a punch, connecting with Jim’s jaw. Jim toppled to the floor, right on his ass. He then started to kick, over and over.
I couldn’t see Jim but I could hear the sound of the thuds as King kicked Jim.
“Stop him right now,” Aunt Jane said to me.
I lunged forward and almost over the island. I grabbed King by his shirt.
“King. Stop. You can’t kill him.”
King looked at me. I told myself I would never forget that look. The rage. The hatred. Knowing that the man he was finally going after was the man who kept us apart for years. Ruined perhaps the greatest love story we’d both ever encounter.
King stopped.
He then walked around the island and hugged me. I hugged him back. I broke down in tears.
“He can’t ever do that again,” King said, talking right to Aunt Jane.
“He won’t,” Aunt Jane said. “We’re leaving. Tonight.”
“Good,” King said. “Figure out what happens and let me know what to prepare for.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, looking up at King.
“I beat him up in his own house,” King said. “I’m going to go to jail for that.”
“No you’re not,” Aunt Jane said. “If he thinks about calling the police I’ll have him put away for hitting me and Lindsey.”
“Okay,” King said. “Do whatever you need to do. I can help, too. I can find a place for you two. Somewhere to hide from him.”