Waiting in the Dark

Waiting in the DarkP.R. Maxey Copyright © 2023 Patricia MaxeyAll rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Cover art by John RodriguezAll rights reserved. Published in the United States by Patricia Maxey.Visit us on the web! https://authorprmaxey.wixsite.com/mysiteFirst Edition To Malcolm, Christian, Noah, and Michael CONTENT WARNINGTHIS STORY CONTAINS content that might be troubling to some readers, including, but not limited to, depictions of and reference to death, suicide, self-harm, physical abuse, mental and verbal abuse, trauma, attempted rape, and death of a parent. Please be mindful of these possible triggers. Chapter 1The red and blue lights flash against the million-dollar homes in the cul-de-sac. I stare in a stupor at the slick, black pavement in front of Chase’s house. I hear the officer’s words jumbled together with the patter of the New England autumn rainfall, but I can’t focus on them to make sense of what he’s saying. All I seem to be able to focus on is the shock of never thinking I’d be in this position.“Lorien?” my mother says, bringing my attention back to the officer.“What happened then?” Officer Winrow asks.I try to remember. Things happened so quickly. The EMT peels off the pressure cuff with a loud tearing sound, jerking me out of my memories.“Uhh—he—grabbed me by my arm and punched me in the stomach.” I sniff and wipe my nose. My tears have been freely flowing for over thirty minutes, though I can’t focus on any one emotion.“Okay,” he says, writing down the events. “After that?”“I fell against the car, and he grabbed me by my hair—” My voice cuts out as the terror I felt in the moment is triggered, like a loaded pistol, as my head throbs. “I kicked him in between his legs, and he let me go. It was just after that that you arrived.”He slaps his notebook shut and looks back at the other officer standing with Chase. “Luckily, a neighbor heard the argument and called us. This could have been much worse. You’re free to go. If we have any more questions, we’ll give you a call.”“Thank you, Officer,” Mom says.My hand shakes, as I pull my keys back out of my purse. “No, sweetheart. You’re not driving home.”“But, what about my car?”“We’ll get it tomorrow.”“Your mom is right,” Officer Winrow chimes in. “You really shouldn’t be driving right now.”A silver Range Rover pulls into the driveway, and I freeze. Electricity prickles around me as Judge Barton stomps his way over to us.“What is going on here?” he demands, his deep voice a growl.“Your Honor, there was physical altercation between the two of them,” the other officer tries to explain.“I want her arrested, then! Why isn’t she in handcuffs?“I wouldn’t do that, Your Honor,” Officer Winrow says, stepping in front of me. “Your son is going to juvenile hall for assault. She is the only one with any evidence to—”“I’ll be damned if you’re taking my son and that little whore—” Judge Barton shouts and points at me as if his finger is a weapon he’s eager to discharge.“Hey!” my mom snaps back.“Sir, that’s enough,” Officer Winrow orders. “You’re not going to stand here and verbally abuse the victim.”“Listen here you little prick—” Judge Barton snarls, stepping up to Officer Winrow. “I can make your life very hard.”Officer Winrow gives Judge Barton a long glare. “I’m the senior officer on scene. Your son is going downtown. I suggest you follow us there, Sir.”Without another word, Officer Winrow heads to his patrol car with Chase in handcuffs.“This isn’t over,” Judge Barton says, glaring at me. I quickly look down and my mom steps between us.“Well, it is tonight. Get in the car, sweetie. We’re going home.” The last part she says to me, but glances over her shoulder at Judge Barton.Tears prick my eyes and I duck into the passenger’s side of my mom’s SUV. I don’t remember the drive home. I don’t remember unlocking the front door or rushing up the stairs. Next thing I know, I’m in my room, with my back pressed against the door in a tear-soaked stupor. Violent, heaving sobs erupt, while my entire body shakes. The adrenaline has dissipated, and I am left with nausea and the utter disbelief of tonight’s events. He has never been physical with me before tonight. I saw the look in his eyes: raging fury, like a fire burning behind blackness, except that his eyes are normally blue.I clumsily peel off my damp clothes, leaving them in a rain-beaten pile on the floor. I pull a pair of sweats out of my dresser, slip into them, slide my phone onto the bedside table, crawl into an abyss of pain, and cry until I can no longer stay awake.*****When I wake, I am painfully aware of how hard I have slept by the dull ache behind my eyes and the dryness of my mouth and throat. Our fluffy black cat, Severus, purrs above my head on the corner of my pillow. I pet him, though I wonder how he got in. I glance at the door and see it cracked open. Mom must have let him in. He was probably meowing by the door.I roll over and check my phone: 10 missed calls. And they are all from Chase. The pit in my stomach tells me not to look at the accompanying texts, but my curiosity wins out.Chase 5:32 AMI’m so sorry about last night. I was a little drunk. I love you!Chase 5:40 AMWhy aren’t you answering my calls?Chase 5:48 AM???Chase 5:56 AM???Chase 6:01 AMYou know I’m sorry. Why are you doing this?Chase 6.17 AMYou’re acting like I meant to do it. You could have avoided