Page 5 of Stryker

Kat

Irushed into my house. I only had about ten minutes before I had to rush out the door to my second job. While I didn’t doubt I could beg off work tonight, I couldn’t afford to do so.

“Dad!” I shouted at him and heard him rumble back. “What the heck are you into now? It’s not gambling again, is it?” I peeled my sweater off and threw it over a chair before walking back toward where he’d settled on the ratty old couch before our old tube television that only got about four channels because I couldn’t afford cable; or even freaking Netflix. Every penny I made went to keeping our heads above water and there were no luxuries.

I planted my hands on my hips and glared at him. For a forty-eight-year-old man, he looked awful. His heavy, hooked nose and sagging throat had that ruddy red look that screamed alcohol abuse. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery all the time, but not from emotion. He’d forever look sad and beaten down, even in the droop of his shoulders and the permanent downward curve of his lips.

“What are you on about?” He waved a hand at the TV. “I’m trying to watch the news.”

“I almost was the news, Dad!” My hands dropped to my sides. “Some thugs said you owe a lot of money you’re obviously not going to pay and said they were going to kill me!” I lowered my voice and glanced back toward Mom’s room. “And they said Mom’s next!”

His face went white. Or whiter, I guess, around the red.

“Kat?”

I glanced at the doorway, stunned. My mother, looking so frail a good gust of wind could blow her away, stood there. Her almost skeletal hands gripped a blanket around her shoulders as she studied me.

Please tell me she didn’t hear me.

“Mom! How are you?” I hurried up to her and gave her a hug around her bony shoulders.

“I heard you yelling.” Her shoulders shook.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Let’s get you back to bed.” I could feel her trembling violently and I gently pressured her back toward her room, but she shrugged me off.

“What do you mean men tried to kill you?” Her brown eyes, so like mine, scanned my face. I’d gotten my looks from my mother. I knew she’d been beautiful a lifetime ago, but now she looked like the walking dead. Her hair, perpetually stringy and greasy because of how hard it was to get her out of bed, much less in the shower, clung to her face. Her skin stretched tight over the bones of her face thanks to many days of refusal to eat. I’d taken more time than I’d like to admit over the last five years struggling to get her to eat a few bites of food. Even Dad would plead with her to eat. And she would… but only a few bites at a time.

Some part of me knew she’d be better off in a hospital. But we couldn’t afford it and our state healthcare just didn’t cover extended treatment for mental health issues. So we made the best of things, but I knew it wasn’t good enough. What else could I do? I was already struggling to even get enough sleep with two jobs. I couldn’t take on a third. We didn’t live lavishly; we scraped, scrimped and saved.

“Mom, you need to rest.” I tried to move her again, but she resisted.

“I’ve been resting! I’ve rested my whole life away. I need to know who’s trying to hurt my baby!” Her claw-like hands gripped at my face and tears slipped down her cheeks.

My piece of crap phone’s alarm went off and I quickly silenced it. Three minutes grace. Time to get ready and get out the door.

Her eyes met mine. “You have to go again, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Don’t go. Please don’t go.” She clung to me, her voice rising. “You can’t go! Don’t go!” Her voice rose to a wail and I shushed her gently, making a snap decision to ask for a family leave day. I’d beg to work my day off to make up for the hours.

“I’ll call out, I’ll call out.” I tried to calm her down as I pulled out my prepaid phone that didn’t have internet or even a touch screen. I made the call quickly, aware my boss could still hear my mother melting down in the background.

“Sorry to do this, but I need a personal day,” I said.

“Family medical emergency?” My boss sounded sympathetic, at least.

“Something like that.” I held my breath. I knew I wasn’t supposed to call out minutes before my shift. He could write me up for it or punish me by taking away my hours.

“I’ll mark it as PTO. Take care.” He hung up and I stared at my phone, stunned. Paid time off? Things were looking up. Sure, I’d almost been murdered by some thugs, but I was getting a paid day off, my mom was out of bed and lucid, and I’d met a dragon that also happened to be a handsome man who’d saved my life.

Warmth filled me and I hugged my mom. “Okay, I’m off. I’m here. Want me to draw you a bath?”

She nodded, still clinging to me. I walked her down the hall toward the bathroom and turned on the water. I added some lavender Epsom salts to help keep her calm and set up the railing I’d installed to keep her from falling.

Once the bath was half full, I helped her undress and get in. I knew better than to run her a full bath and I always kept the bathroom door open. Her depression rarely came with self-harm, but I wouldn’t chance losing her.

She eased in, her eyes closing as she soaked in the warm water. I heard her sigh and her hand sought out mine on the railing. “Thank you, angel.”

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