Page 29 of Save You
I try to lunge for her, but the bodyguard grabs hold of my wrist before I can get anywhere near to where she is standing. I snarl at her as a grace of a smug smile passes over her blood-red lips.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off my wife!” Tom spits at him.
“Your wife?!” my mother exclaims with an air of calm surprise. “I’m sorry, young man, but my daughter already has a husband.”
“Rosalie Bennett had a husband. Didn’t you hear?” Tom growls venomously, “She died when she got here. Rose Taylor is my wife, so you can go back and tell Carl Steele he can go fuck himself and leave us the hell alone!”
“Oh, darling, how noble of you,” she says, tapping her leather gloves against her hand while looking around the room with a sneer of obvious disgust. “Unfortunately, she’s not the only thing that belongs to Carl Steele, are you, Rosalie?”
“Please, let me go to him, he needs me!” I cry as I struggle to get away from the man who is still gripping hold of me. “You better not be hurting him. I’ll kill you!”
“Oh, come, come, Rosalie, no need for dramatics!” she tuts before disrespectfully stepping over Mrs Topple’s motionless body. “He’s just getting his little birthmark; he’ll get over it soon enough. People need to know where he belongs, don’t they!”
“The feather?!” I shout, with my teeth bared like an angry mother bear protecting her cub. “You monster! How could you do that? I fucking hate you! I hate you!”
“Don’t use that kind of language, Rosalie,” she snaps, “your father won’t stand for it, and neither will Carl. Of course, I can’t imagine what he’s going to do to you when we return home. But you asked for it, I suppose. Please don’t tell me you’ve been spreading your legs for this…” She flusters over her words while grimacing at Tom like he is a piece of filth on her shoe, “Bus driver?”
“Tom is more of a man than any of those in Mayfield,” I shout at her, “a real man! A man who I’m in love with!”
My mother laughs with a chilling edge to her amusement, clearly enjoying my fear. She only stops when the sound of footsteps upon the stairs travels through the still blocked doorway. I spin around to see a tall, skinny man carrying my little boy, who now has streams of tears falling over his cheeks and is reaching out for me in desperation. I try to get to him, but he is passed over to my mother’s bony frame, just as I’m simultaneously pulled back again.
My heart breaks as I watch her pretending to coo over my baby who is still searching for me, for someone he knows, someone who will protect him. I’m so entranced by the vomit-inducing scene before me, I don’t immediately notice the figure moving about at the back of the room. I don’t see that Sadie is now coming up behind my evil mother as she bobs Mal up and down in her arms, still pretending to be the doting grandmother.
“You’ve got your mother’s eyes and your daddy’s nose,” she says to my weeping child, who’s now flapping his angry, red arm around in a frenzied panic. “Let’s hope you have your daddy’s brains as well.”
“Stop right there, bitch!” Sadie growls inside of my mother’s ear. She’s clutching hold of Ma’s old letter opener and pressing it against my mother’s porcelain-colored neck. “Give Rose her baby back…NOW!”
My mother jumps at Sadie’s raised voice, only to turn her momentary look of fear into a vicious smile.
“Or what, dear? You’re going to stab me?” she laughs arrogantly, “I don’t think so.”
“Try me!” Sadie threatens, pushing the knife into her skin just hard enough to let a drop or two of blood trickle down her neck. “You’ve broken into my house with armed men, so I am well within my rights to defend myself. Give Mal back to Rose, or I’m going to enjoy slicing your neck open like a fresh block of butter!”
I don’t doubt that Sadie will do it, but for her sake, I hope it doesn’t come to that.
Reluctantly, and with a sneer that could win prizes, my mother brings Mal over to me and places him inside of my already outstretched arms. Once he’s safely on my hip, I hold him close to me and inhale his soft hair as though making sure he’s really there. I rain down kisses on top of his head which is still red and swollen from his screaming. His lips have even taken on a blue tinge, so I ignore everything and everyone else and focus all my attention on him, trying my very best to try and calm him down.
“Now tell these two thugs to let my brother go and leave!” Sadie pushes the knife in again, this time making my mother whimper a little. I enjoy watching her like this, though I’m also half-wishing it was me digging the knife in. After marking my son, I’d quite happily gut her like a fish.
My mother, ever the hard-nosed bitch, doesn’t answer with words, instead she simply juts her chin out toward the guard, as if silently instructing him to drop hold of Tom. He shuffles out of his grasp and runs to my side, stroking his hand over Mal’s head with a frown of concern deeply etched between his eyes.
“We’ll be back, Rosalie,” my mother declares with an evil glint in her eye, “you can’t hide forever. Only, next time it won’t be me. It will be your father, or even worse for you, Carl himself!”
Tom and I look at one another with the horrifying realization that she’s right. They know where I am now, and it’s only a matter of time before they come to get both me and my son; they’ll no doubt kill Tom in the process. As my heart begins to thud faster, I see a trace of something run across his face, like some sort of resilience breaking down, a dread of knowing something he needs to do but doesn’t want to. Whatever it is, I’m all for it, even if it means I have to return to the States without Mal. I’ll do it without question to save him from Mayfield and to keep him far away from his father.
“You,” Tom points to my mother, “sit the fuck down and keep your mouth shut!”
Sadie nods at him, as though they’ve telepathically shared a plan and she’s in on it, still with the knife cutting into my mother’s withered neck. My mother crosses her arms indignantly before slowly doing what he’s told her to. She looks irritated, like this is merely an inconvenience, even though she currently has a trail of blood trickling down onto her crisp white shirt.
“You two,” he continues, this time pointing at the two bodyguards who nod at him, but only because they won’t risk anything happening to my mother, “sit over there and if either of you try anything, well, Sadie, you know what to do.”
“Tom, what are you doing?” I reach out for him with panic piercing through each of my words. I worry even more when he sadly rubs his hand down his face, but he simply kisses me on the cheek.
“Wait here; I’ve gotta make a phone call,” he replies before brushing his hand through Mal’s baby soft hair. He’s finally cried himself to sleep, but his poor little face is still bright red and puffy from all the screaming. “It’ll be ok; I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”
I want to run after him, to force him to tell me what he’s doing, but I know better than that. I trust Tom with both my life and the life of my child, so I tentatively sit down with Mal sleeping in my arms.
I can’t hear his exact words through the door, but Tom’s voice is low, grave, and when I look at Sadie, she appears to be just as confused as I am. Our unwanted visitors look awkward, silent, and completely out of place in this living room, which I will always think of as a home to me.