I STILL LOOK FOR YOU - PART 13

She couldn’t see the parking lot from her bedroom but she knew it was Bill’s car. She clawed at the register that held the gun but then she heard the door knob turn downstairs and the door open freely. Confused, she started down a few stairs, maybe somehow the weather had turned too bad and Bobby was returning her car and her keys. The Christmas tree blocked her view but something didn’t feel right. She turned, starting back to retrieve the gun when she felt herself being lifted off her feet, his hands around her neck holding her off the floor, pinned to the wall.

“Where is the little fukker you whore? In your bed – hiding under the covers?” Each word was accented with the tightening of his hands around her throat. She tried to claw at his hands, her body useless as it hung from the wall. He dropped his grip smashing his fist into her side as she slid down onto the stairs. She had to get to her bedroom, to the gun. She tried to crawl but he stepped on her back, her head and raged up the stairs, turning on the light in her bedroom.

“Where are you COWARD?” He was tearing the room apart convinced Bobby was there hiding. She heard the closet door fall from the track and prayed the register cover would not fall open, exposing the gun. She prayed harder that somehow the kids would not wake.

Inching backwards down the stairs she tried to get to the phone but ,satisfied there was no one in her bedroom, Bill spotted her and helped her down the stairs with a kick to her face. She landed on her stomach, looking up at the angel on top of the Christmas tree through blood that poured freely down her face. He stepped over her searching the downstairs.

Oh dear God NO, Traci was halfway down the stairs, tears streaming down her terrified face. “Run Traci - run to the neighbors – call 911,” Lynn half stood facing his silhouette in the kitchen doorway.

“That’s right Traci, run to your Bobby – just like your slut mother run run.” Lynn stumbled toward him trying to lift a lamp from on top of the side table to smash into his head, but she was clumsy and slow and he easily took it from her hands holding her arm twisted at a peculiar angle. He shoved her aside like a cobweb that had brushed against his face, and ran from the apartment. Lynn grabbed her keys from the hall closet and half ran, half hobbled after him trying to find Traci. He was running in the direction of Bobby’s apartment … but she couldn’t see Traci.

There was a phone in the small pilot office of the complex. If she could get there, she could call the police if Traci hadn’t able to. Maybe she was in the laundromat, she loved hiding there in games of hide and seek. Lynn turned the corner of the sidewalk just in time to see Bill’s shoulder slam against Bobby’s apartment door which gave like a tree uprooted by a tornado. She knew she could make it to the office now, with him searching an empty apartment.

She ran down the sidewalk, holding her side and her face, and stopped, blood drained from her brain, leaving her unable to take a breath. The lights were on in Bobby’s apartment and loud voices, including Traci’s, fell out into the night through the open door.

Jake, stunned and with an eye beginning to swell, was on the floor in front of the sofa, Traci and Bill in the kitchen, her pleading and him crying. Lynn ran past Jake and entered the kitchen trying to survey the scene and comprehend what was taking place. Traci was keeping her distance but was pleading with her step-father to leave and trying to tell him Bobby had Mom’s car and wasn’t even in town. He, slobbering drunk, was tearfully recounting all of her mother’s sins. Lynn placed herself in front of him and asked if he would leave now, motioning behind her back for Traci to get out of there.

“Here!” Bill spied a large knife left out from cutting a pizza and grabbed for it. “Kill me, just go ahead and do it. Stab me in the back like you already have. You hate me don't you? You hate me! Here - stab me!”

Lynn heard Jake’s car trying to start and needed to stall. “No, of course I wouldn’t hurt you Bill. Please, you need to calm down, think this through now and just go home. Go and rest, you look so tired.” The engine fired and gears stripped into reverse. Dear God, let Traci remember Tim is alone in the apartment.

“Tired? Bill heard the car too, “Tired? Yes – tired of your lies your tricks, tired of you taking everything from me, my job, my son!” He was advancing towards her now, the knife still in his grip.

Stacy ran, with every ounce of energy she could gather, she ran. And she reached the office door, unlocked it and slammed it – almost shut – before his weight hit the door throwing her back like so much wadded paper. No bothering with the light this time. The room was small and illuminated enough from the street light nearby. His hands found their mark around her neck easily and pounded her head over and over into the wall. The vice tightened and she could feel herself beginning to lose consciousness. But then the knife, the pointed end pushing lightly into her throat, as he spoke. His voice was a soft sing song of insane babblings. “I’ve talked to you Mother and your sister. They both know you’re no good, a slut. I deserve better than you. They hate you, the kids hate you. You know that right? RIGHT?!!” The knife tip goes a little deeper. “But I told them how I’ve tried with you, taking you back when you take my son - MY SON AWAY FROM ME”. He had grabbed a handful of hair now and banged her head again. “Because I love you. I have loved you and you see don’t you?

Lynn thought she saw crimson lights, maybe it was blood in her eyes.

“You understand don’t you,” whispering now, “that if I can’t have you" …. The knife is turning sideways now and starting to press. POUND POUND POUND – "no one can.”

"OPEN THE DOOR – Barrington Police Department – OPEN THE DOOR."