Tears and snot are flying everywhere.
He’s gaining on me.
I turn on Broad Street and call for, “Help!” hoping that a random stranger will interfere and help me. The few people milling about just stare perhaps unsure if I am in real danger. One person even pulls out their phone to record us as if it’s some sort of hilarious social media stunt. No one tries to help me at all.
“Stop running, you cunt!” Jake yells after me.
The medical school is not located near the main campus buildings. It’s further down Broad Street, but I can see it from here.
I just have to reach it.
Jake is right behind me now.
He extends his hand to grasp any part of me that he can grab.
I’m so tired, I feel like I can’t run any faster, and that’s when Jake makes his move. He grabs a fist full of my jean jacket by the collar, and then I feel a harsh tug backwards. As I slide down and back, across the concrete, I notice Jake is sliding backwards too. A much stronger force is yanking the two of us in reverse. I look for the reason why and am stunned at what or rather who I see.
It’s Knox.
He pulled Jake so hard to the ground that it had a domino effect and we both went tumbling. Jake lets go of me and has his arms up in a defensive stance as Knox pummels him with punishing blows of his right fist.
The bone crunching sounds of Knox’s punches landing across Jake’s face are enough to make anyone cringe, but not me.
I don’t look away.
I don’t scream for him to stop.
I don’t say anything but a prayer of thanks to God for sending Knox to the right place at the right time.
The relief I feel overwhelms me and I start crying like a newborn baby as a few random bystanders start to gather and watch the melee.
“Get off her, dude,” a random stranger says to Knox. “You're killing her.”
“Oh, snap! That’s not a woman, that’s a man,” another bystander says.
“Someone call the police.”
“Ooh, Mom, that man is going to jail,” I overhear a little boy tell his mother.
I can see the rise and fall of Jake’s chest and know that he is very much alive but I still think that Knox should get out of here. He’s never admitted to it, but I bet he’s got some sort of record with the police and this doesn’t look like something we can explain.
I stumble over to him and pull him by the arm. “Let’s go.”
A stormy rage fuels Knox’s blue-black pupils, and he doesn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation.
“Knox, we have to go. The police will arrest you.”
“He was abducting you,” he says flatly.
“I know but–“
A slight warmth suddenly slides over Knox’s face and he brushes his hands all over my face, my neck, my arms, my back.
“Are you all right?” he asks with great trepidation.
“Yes, Knox, I’m fine.”
Then, after a moment, he falls to his knees and holds his head in his hands. I don’t know if he’s sobbing or praying, but whatever is going on inside his head and heart right now, I know he needs me.
“I’m okay, Knox.” I cover him with my body and whisper into his ear. “So now we need to take care of you.”
Knox looks over at Jake in horror, who is still unconscious and covered in blood, as the crowd around us swells.
“No, Gigi, call your father and then we’ll wait for the police… and the ambulance.”
Twenty-Six
Knox
* * *
It’s been two days since I put Jake in the hospital.
One day since I got out of a holding cell.
And only one hour after Gigi sent me her last text message.
Queenie: Why won’t you pick up the phone?
Queenie: I need to talk to you.
Queenie: Please tell me that you’re okay.
Not being able to respond to Gigi is my punishment for not handling the Jake problem as effectively as I should have the first time, and especially for not telling my family about him right away. It’s probably the most powerful lesson my father has ever tried to teach me…or rather the worst punishment he’s ever given.
“Do not call her, Knox.”
It’s killing me inside.
The day Gigi was almost abducted, I’d been following her on and off for two days because I’m a psycho like that. When she didn’t call or text and beg for my forgiveness after the way she chickened out on me in front of Uncle Cutter, I started thinking crazy things like maybe she was back with Matt or seeing someone new or just didn’t give a fuck.
I couldn’t think straight.
At first, I thought she was talking to an ugly woman on the street when she came out of the medical school building and thought little of it, but when the old lady started following her, then I knew something was very wrong.
Everything happened so fast after that.
Gigi started running.
I jumped out of my car.
And then all I saw was a white haze.
Rage blinded me as I pounded Jake’s head into the sidewalk and when it was over, I couldn’t believe that Gigi saw me with a murderous look on my face and his blood dripping from my hands.
All the work I did in Miami with Aunt Kat and in counseling didn’t mean a thing. It was all for naught. Because Gigi saw the real monster in me, the one I try desperately to contain, and I just knew my fate had been sealed. We would never be able to make our way back to each other.
“Stop looking at that damn phone,” Dad orders.
I can’t stop looking. The fact that she’s even asking how I am gives me a false sense of hope. Maybe she doesn’t hate the monster.
“I’ve got a client call in ten minutes,” Dad says. “Hopefully you’ll still be alive and breathing when I’m done.”
The next phase of my lesson (also known as punishment part two)… explaining this to Uncle Cam.
“Are you ready to talk to your uncle?” My mother asks, lifting my bandaged hands for inspection.
“Yeah.”
Nope.
“When’s the last time you cleaned these?” she asks.
“An hour ago.”
“This feels like old times. I used to take care of your hands for you when you got into scuffles back in high school.”
I know she doesn’t mean it in a negative way, but my mother’s comment makes me feel worse than I did ten minutes ago. I’m embarrassed. I hate that this looks like I’m the “old Knox” to her. It just seems like with every step forward I take in my life, I end up taking two steps back.
“Maybe I should go back to Miami,” I say wanting nothing more than to bury my head in the sand.
“I want to tell you something before you talk to your uncle.”
I look intently at my mom who I believe is one of the smartest women to ever live but maybe I'm biased.
“We never told you this story, but did you know that your Grandpa Joe didn’t want your father and me together? Neither did your other grandfather, for that matter.”
“But Grandpa Joe adores you.”
“Yes, but your Grandma Juliette is my blood relative. She is my aunt. I called your grandfather Uncle Joe for most of my life, and only dropped the “uncle” when you boys were old enough to understand. It would have been confusing for you to hear me call your grandfather, Uncle Joe.”