Maybe there was no one hundred percent certain way for the law to know that I hadn’t shoved Randall off of that cliff, but my lawyer said the courts were about ninety-nine percent sure that I hadn’t been responsible for his fall.
And furthermore, my lawyer added that the general consensus was - who cares what happened. Good fucking riddance, the piece of shit is dead.
So now... I had a home – though I wanted to get out of that trailer as soon as fucking possible. But I could get a job... I could take Murphy to day care or at least a babysitter. (Randall had never trusted anyone else with his son, even though he’d been the only one to ever hurt Murphy in his short lifetime.)
I could make friends.
I could make fucking plans for our lives.
I twirled Murphy again and giggled along with him.
We. Were. Safe.
The door to the trailer nearly flew off the hinges as Timothy Fisher busted into the living room. He charged toward me and I instinctively ran to the kitchen, put Murphy behind me, and grabbed the largest knife in the drawer.
“You fuckin’ bitch. I don’t give a rat’s fucking ass what the law says. You killed my brother and goddammit you’re gonna pay!” Tim was drunk, which was good only in the fact that it made him clumsy and slow.
Rage-wise, it made him even sicker than he already was.
“Don’t you come near us. Get out! I’ll scream.” I’d tried that once with Randall. The impending consequences had convinced me to never scream again.
It wasn’t worth it.
“Oh, you’re gonna scream, you little bitch. Imma make you scream like you ain’t never done screamed before.” He crouched down and put an unsteady hand out towards Murphy. “Come ’ere, little guy. Why don’t you go hang out in your bedroom for a little bit? Build Uncle Timmy a nice block castle? Yeah? You wanna do that?”
I pulled Murphy close against the back of my legs, and he clung to me, trembling. Shaking.
The nightmare was never going to end for us. Why had I assumed we were safe now? Tim was still very much alive, and Tim was worse.
Tim was so much worse.
“Get the fuck out, Tim.” I tried to sound firm, but my voice was shaking just as much as Murphy’s tiny little body.
“Why? You think you own the place now, girlie? This was Randall’s home. And that’s Randall’s kid. And I’ll be damned if you’re gonna keep either one of ‘em.” He charged toward us, and I swung the knife in a wide arc.
Even in his drunken state, Tim knocked the weapon from my hand like it was nothing more than an ice cream cone.
He then grabbed me by my ponytail, making me scream in pain, and Murphy took off running for the back of the trailer.
Good. He didn’t need to see his mother get tortured and murdered.
Tim pulled me against him firmly, his arm around my body, and put the knife I’d attempted to defend myself with against my neck.
“One little slice and you’d bleed out like a stuck pig, girlie.” He moved the blade back and forth across my skin just to make sure I fully understood.
Pressed against him as I was, I could feel just how much Tim Fisher was enjoying himself. He was rock hard.
“But you see, I won’t take you out that quickly. That’d be stupid. A waste. Randall never let me play with you, but I guess it don’t really matter what Randall wants now that you killed him.” Tim growled the last part.
“I didn’t kill your brother. He fell.” I nearly whispered the words.
The blade pushed slightly into my skin as Tim let out a rageful roar.
“Don’t you lie to me, you piece of trash whore. I done told Randy that you’d be the death of him. I know what girls like you are. Filthy little devils.” He laughed then, which was more terrifying than anything else.
He put the knife down and returned to my throat with his free hand, holding me in a strangle.
I could breathe, but just barely.
Tim put his cheek against mine and swayed us back and forth, like we were dancing. “Ain’t this lovely, Val? All this time I wanted to fuck ya, and now I want to murder ya, and I can do both at the same time. Mix a little pain with pleasure. I bet Randall never played with you like that.”
As if to prove his point, Tim tightened his chokehold and thrust his pelvis against my ass roughly, giving me a preview of his plans for us.
I wanted to die then. Just die. He was going to kill me anyway. Better to just go than to endure the hell Tim had in store for me.
The knife was close enough. I could slit my own throat, given a few seconds. If I could bend a leg up backwards between his, maybe get in a decent donkey kick to his groin. I could end this torture before it started.
Murphy.
My poor little boy was hiding somewhere, listening and terrified.
It didn’t matter what Tim did to me. As long as there was breath in my lungs, I couldn’t give up. I had to fight, even if that meant simply surviving.
Tim shoved me against the counter, and I heard the distinct sound of his pants zipper coming down. His hand around my throat guaranteed that I didn’t fight back. As soon as I did, the grip tightened.
Knocking at the front door.
I was so elated I almost burst into tears. Someone was here.
“Valerie Johnson? This is Officer Miller, just here to do a follow-up visit, ma’am. Make sure everything is okay.” The deep voice boomed through the trailer, and Tim gritted his teeth in anger.
He abruptly let go of me, and I gasped for air, feeling the life come back into me along with the oxygen.
“You’re getting off easy this time, girlie. But that officer ain’t gonna stay here. Ain’t gonna live here. I will be back. You and I got a hot date waiting.” He picked up the knife and stabbed it straight into the counter. “And then I guess I got a funeral to plan, although I’m guessin’ a burn barrel will do the trick.”
Tim planted a repulsive kiss on my cheek and took off through the trailer, exiting out the shitty back door.
I attempted to pull myself together, knowing the officer was waiting.
I wiped the tears that had built up in my eyes, put the knife back in the drawer, and walked calmly to the front door.
I’d simply tell them. Tim couldn’t have gotten too far – he was on foot and he was drunk. He’d broken in. Harassed me. Surely I could get him put away for a few days.
Feeling as if his hand was still around my neck, I let the officer in, and proceeded to share what had just taken place.
While the cops searched for Tim, I took Murphy, gathered a few things that would fit into my purse, got us into my piece of shit car, and drove to the bus station.
I woke up the following morning hating myself more than I’d previously thought possible.
Leaving Penn like that... the entire conversation was a blur. Something in me had broken, and immediately, all I’d wanted was to grab Murphy and go.
So badly, I wanted my past to stay in the past. I didn’t want the poison of everything I’d experienced to seep into my new life... or my possible new relationship.
But Penn was so insistent. He just couldn’t help himself. And I knew it was from a place of genuine concern, of protectiveness, of... love. If he actually got all of the information he was seeking, he would more than likely no longer care to know.
The Hardicks were good people. They’d been kind to me. Even Preston with his abrasive and mildly inebriated speech had meant well, in his own way.