Page 59 of Quiet Rage
“How much worse can this get?” I regret the question instantly.
“With someone dead,” my father says out loud what I’m thinking. The thought of losing someone else I love is unfathomable.
We finish cleaning up the blood from the living room floor, and I take the bucket to the kitchen sink. I’m watching the red water disappear down the drain when I hear a sound coming from the broken back door.
My head snaps up, and my whole body freezes. Kellen steps into the kitchen, and panic bubbles up inside of me. I nervously glance behind him, expecting more guys to come through the door.
“It’s just me,” Kellen says, as if he alone isn’t threatening enough.
He wouldn’t look at me earlier, but his eyes are on me now, pinning me to the spot I stand. His expression is pinched like it’s causing him physical pain to look at me.
I want to ask him what he is doing here, but I can’t get the words to come out. I can’t do anything besides stand there and stare. He sucks in a deep breath, his lips part, and he is about to say something when my mom’s shouting has us both looking to the right.
“Stay away from her!” My mother steps into the space, a large kitchen knife in her hand. She holds it in front of her, pointing it at Kellen.
My eyes bounce between the two of them, unsure what to do to deescalate the situation. Kellen looks unfazed by the threat. He walks up to my mom and grabs hold of the blade, the sharp edge slicing through his palm. He pulls it from my mother’s hand and drops it on the floor.
Mom gasps in shock, slowly stepping away like she is trying to get away from a wild animal. She stops when her back is pressed up against the wall, and there is no place else to go.
Kellen turns his attention back to me. He takes a few steps towards me, and panic has me scurrying back. He pauses in the center of the room, lifting his hands, he shows me his palms as if trying to calm me down.
“Please don’t touch me,” I force out the words, my voice small and shaky.
“I swear I won’t touch you,” he promises. “But I’m not leaving you alone right now, either.”
I let my head hang in defeat, suddenly feeling extremely tired. I look down at my hands, noticing how bruises are forming around my wrists where Dante held me too tightly.
“You need to lie down,” Kellen says, concern in his tone. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
I want to tell him no. I want to yell at his face and pummel my fists against his chest, but I have no fight left in me. I’m so fucking exhausted, the way to my room seems like a long journey.
Forcing my legs to move, I walk past Kellen carefully. When I pass my mom, she stares at me with tears in her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” I lie, desperate to comfort her.
I make my way into the living room, finding my dad asleep on the couch. I keep moving, each step draining more energy from my body. Kellen follows me through the house and into my room. He closes the door behind him, trapping us in the small space together.
We turn to face each other. There are a few feet between us, but it doesn't feel far enough away. We look at each other for what feels like forever. The silence between us is deafening.
“I’m sorry,” Kellen finally says. His voice is strained, and his eyes are full of regret, but I can’t bring myself to accept his words.
“I don’t think this is something you can make better with an apology.”
I don’t think there is anything he can say or do to make this go away.
“I know. I just don’t know what else to say.” His shoulders sag as he breathes out loudly. He looks down at his hand and I follow his gaze, finding blood dripping down Kellen’s palm and onto the carpet.
Without much thought, I rush into my bathroom and grab the first aid kit from under the sink. I return to my room. Kellen hasn’t moved from where he is standing. I put the first aid kit on my desk and open it. Reaching in, I grab some gauze, a wrap, and a roll of tape, placing everything on the table.
I play with the idea of helping him wrap up his hand, but that would mean getting close, even touching him, and I can’t do that right now. I step away from the desk, making room for him. He moves through the room slowly, as if he is worried about startling me.
A wave of exhaustion overcomes me, and I sway on my feet. Kellen surges forward, ready to catch me, but I manage to catch myself and straighten up.
“Please lie down before you pass out,” Kellen urges.
Nodding my head, I make it to my bed on unsteady legs. I crawl onto the mattress and pull the blanket over me. Lying back, I let my head fall into the pillow. I’m beyond tired, but my eyes remain wide open.
I watch him bandage his hand crudely but effectively. When he is done, he puts everything back into the first aid box and closes the lid. Slipping out of his shoes, he leaves them by the desk before crossing the room to stand on the other side of the bed. He doesn't take any of his clothes off, nor does he raise the blanket as he gets on the bed and lies down beside me.
