Page 23 of Four Simple Rules
Jesse runs a hand down his face. “My dad shot me, Tulip.”
My breath shudders in my chest when the front door bursts open.
"In the closet!" I hiss, shoving my mom toward my closet with tears streaming down my cheeks.
"You thought you could sneak away!" His voice fills the space of our house like thunder, shaking the frame off its foundation. “You thought you could plot to leave me?”
I'm frozen, standing in the middle of my bedroom. Oxygen barely reaches my lungs when I suck in several breaths, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
My father's footsteps stomp through the house. Vases break. Dishes crash. Drywall shatters under his fist. Our entire house fills with chaos. His shouts grow louder. Closer than before. His shadow moves in front of my door until it crashes open, forcing the doorknob through the wall.
And it's all because my mother decided we finally needed out.
Her bruises are blacker, larger, and taking up more of her face. His rage is bigger and lasts longer.
"Robert, no!" my mom sobs, removing herself from my closet.
He grins, exposing his teeth, tsking in her direction.
"Gracey Girl," he chuckles, gesturing toward my suitcase overflowing with clothes on my unmade bed. "Did you think that you could just walk away? This is death till we part, Bitch," he hisses.
Everything stops when he raises the handgun—the chrome sparkles from the overhead lights, twinkling when he pulls the hammer back.
"We choose death," he cackled, pulling the trigger.
My mother shouts, screaming the walls down with her shrill voice.
And me?
I jump, protecting the woman I've tried to protect for years.
When it hits my stomach, fire erupts under my flesh, and I cry out.
I shake myself from that horrid memory, staring in Blake's direction as she processes what I've said.
Oh, shit on a cracker while standing up. As soon as the words leave my mouth, Blake stiffens. All the color drains from her freckle-filled cheeks, leaving her more ghostly than Casper. She doesn't utter a word. Her wide hazel eyes stare at me like I've spilled the world's biggest secret.
I thought she might know. That someone would have informed her by now. But apparently, I was wrong.
Again.
My precious Tulip took scissors and cut each person who hurt her the most out of her life. Forever. She changed her number. Her social media went silent overnight. It's like she completely wiped out her existence overnight.
“Blake,” I say slowly, leaning in to put my hand on hers.
“He shot you?” she asks, not bothering to remove my hand from hers. "He… He shot you?" she gasps out. "Oh, my God!"
Those hazel eyes I used to stare into on the edge of her bed when we talked for hours on end about everything and nothing at all, fill with moisture.
“He… I…”
I physically see the wheels turning in her mind. She's taking this horrid event on her shoulders even when she was miles away.
“Tulip. Don’t think like that.”
Her nose wrinkles. “You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she grumbles, pulling her hand back. “Can you move? I’d really like to get out of here.” Her eyes dart around inside the tree, taking it all in. I know the moment they catch on our carvings, and she sucks in a breath.
“Nope,” I proclaim with a grin. “I’ve finally trapped you, Tulip. No more running from me.” If it’s possible, I make my body bigger, taking over the large hole so she has no other option but to listen to me and what I have to say.
