Hold On Tight (Take My Hand) Read online

  Hold On Tight

  by Nicola Haken

  Hold On Tight

  Copyright © 2013 Nicola Wall

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events are created from the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author, except in the case of critics or reviewers who may quote brief passages in their review. If you are reading this eBook and have not purchased it or won it in a blogger/author competition then you are reading a pirated version. Please support the author by deleting this copy and purchasing it from an authorised distributor.

  Dedicated to my sister-in-law and best friend in the whole world Keeley. Thank you for being as crazy and immature as I am. I love you, Keeya Girly!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Acknowledgements

  About The Author

  Prologue

  ~Dexter~

  “That’s awesome, sweet cheeks. Your mom’s gonna love it.” Aunt Sarah put the dragon mask I’d made on the back seat of her car before opening my door for me to climb inside.

  “I made it for you.”

  “Oh, honey. I love it – really I do… but don’t you think your mom would like some of the things you’ve made too?” I would like to give my mom things to keep but they always end up broken. And I loved my mask. I’d worked really hard for three days making sure it was just the right color green. I painted it this one green but it was too bright to be a scary dragon so I had to paint it again with a darker green. Philip Myers said it was a stupid green but I thought it looked just great. Philip Myers is stupid. I don’t like him.

  “But I made it for you.”

  “Ok, sweet cheeks. In that case, thank you. I love it.” Aunt Sarah smiled at me funny and then started driving the car. I didn’t want to go home yet but Aunt Sarah works at night in the hospital helping moms get their babies out so I had no choice. “So how’re you liking first grade? You’re very grown up now.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You got a girlfriend yet?”

  “Eww, no. Tamara wanted to hold my hand today but I told her she was icky.” Aunt Sarah laughed at me. She does that a lot. She must think I’m really funny.

  When the car started moving more slowerer I knew we were nearly home. I looked at the window at the front of our house and my mom wasn’t standing there. I don’t like it when she’s not there. It means my dad is home. I like my dad. He’s big and strong…kind of like Superman, but he can’t fly. But I don’t think he likes me very much. I want him to think I’m funny like Aunt Sarah does but if I try to say funny things he just gets mad at me. Mom says he’s not mad, he’s just tired. That’s why I go to sleep very early every night so Dad can go to bed too and I won’t wake him up.

  But he still gets tired a lot. Sometimes when he’s tired he does mean stuff to Mom. He gets mad at her and hits her real hard. I hit Philip Myers real hard once and Mrs. Fletcher shouted at me in front of the whole class. But there is nobody to shout at Dad when he gets angry. When I’m older and bigger I will shout at him… maybe then I won’t be so scared of him hitting me too. If I’m bigger it won’t hurt as much so maybe he can just hit me instead.

  “Are you sure about the mask?” Aunt Sarah opened my door for me while I clicked my seatbelt off.

  “Uh huh.”

  “You’re a sweet boy, Dex.” My mom says that - she thinks I’m sweet too. Sometimes she sneaks into my bedroom when she thinks I’m sleeping and gives me a cuddle. I like that. I love my mom a lot. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

  My dad opened the door for us and told me to get inside. I ducked under his arm and started taking my coat off. I think Aunt Sarah wanted to come in too but my dad didn’t move so she didn’t have enough room. I don’t think my dad likes Aunt Sarah. Sometimes I don’t think she likes my dad too. They say mean stuff to each other when they think I can’t hear them but I always do. Our house is a tiny house so if I sit at the top of the stairs I can hear everything.

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked Dad. Dad doesn’t like me asking lots of questions but Mom is normally waiting for me downstairs and I couldn’t find her.

  “None of your fucking business.” I think dad was tired. He always says bad words when he’s tired. I wonder if when I’m older I’ll say bad words when I’m tired too? My mom and Aunt Sarah don’t say bad words so maybe only boys do it.

  Dad sat down on the couch and turned the TV on. There was football playing on the little screen so I knew he would be sitting there for a while. If Dad was tired I didn’t think Mom would let him take care of me on his own so I went upstairs to find her. She was in her bedroom, lying down on her bed.

  “Mom?” I said it quietly in case she was sleeping. She couldn’t have been sleeping because she rolled over and smiled at me.

  “Hey, baby.” Her voice sounded weird – like she’d been sneezing a lot. Mom patted the bed and I ran over and jumped on it. Her eyes were watery. I think she’d been crying. Mom cries a lot. I think she gets sad but she says she’s just tired. I hope I don’t get tired when I’m older. Being tired doesn’t seem so nice. “Aren’t you going to give Mommy a hug?”

  “I’m too old to call you Mommy now. Wayne said only babies say Mommy and I’m six. But I’ll still hug you because you’re my mom and I’ve missed you today.”

  “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you too.” Mom held her arms out and I crawled onto her knee. I put my hands around her back and squeezed her real tight but then she made a funny noise. I make noises like that when I bang my knee or my elbow. I make that noise because it hurts.

  “Did I hurt you, Mom?” She did that weird smile again. Lots of people do that weird smile. I wonder if I’ll do that weird smile when I’m older too.

  “No, baby. Mommy’s just got a tummy ache. But your cuddles make it all better.” I like making Mom feel better. I just wish I could stop her and Dad feeling so tired all the time. Maybe if I’m gooder and spend more time in my bedroom they can go to sleep longer. Maybe then Dad will stop yelling and Mom will stop crying.

  Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll be gooder.

  Chapter One

  ~Dexter~

  I blinked forcefully several times – unsure if he was really there or the beads of sweat trickling down my forehead from the run had seeped into my disbelieving eyes and distorted my vision. But with every blink my sight became clearer.

  He really was there.

  My father really was standing ri
ght in front of me.

  My heart really had stopped beating.

  “Get the fuck out of my house,” I growled, breathing deeply and balling my hands into tight fists as I prepared to punch his fucking lights out over and over again.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, son-”

  “DON’T CALL ME THAT!” I blared, feeling physically sick at the idea I was in any way related to this vile excuse of a man.

  “This house is still mine, Dexter. Your mother and I never actually divorced, so now she’s gone… I’ve come for what’s mine.” My breathing was harsh and rapid, and my hands were balled so tightly my nails were cutting into the flesh of my palms.

  “I’m giving you ten seconds to get the hell out of this house before I do something we’ll both regret,” I threatened firmly – counting backwards from ten in my mind.

  “Now now, son. Don’t you think that temper of yours has caused you enough trouble already?”

  I don’t remember how I got over to him. All I remember was the feeling of the flesh on his cheeks as it tore open against my knuckles, the sound of his nose cracking against my fist… and the strangled cries of Emily screaming at me to stop.

  “Maybe you should listen to that girl of yours,” he said mockingly, with a twisted smile as he wiped the drips of blood seeping from his nose on the back of his hand. “I saved you from a lot of trouble once, boy. I won’t be so lenient again.” What the fuck was that supposed to mean? If he was referring to the night I destroyed my mom’s life, how was running away never to be seen again ‘saving’ me?

  The only people responsible for preventing me getting exactly what I deserved that night were Aunt Sarah, and the officer in charge who attended the scene. I can’t remember her name, but I’m damn sure I’d recognize her if we ever crossed paths again. When ‘it’ happened there was only myself, my mom and my dad in the house. Within seconds of the trigger being pulled my dad was gone. Within minutes, after receiving a call from me, Aunt Sarah was there too. Time stopped moving then, so I don’t know how long it took for the place to become swarming with cops and medics – but it did.

  I was a quivering wreck, huddled in the corner crying into my knees by the time the ambulance had left with my mom. Uniformed officers tried to question me but I didn’t hear a word they said. It was an hour or so later when they called in the big wigs, and soon enough Aunt Sarah and I were being interviewed by no less than a homicide lieutenant.

  It was in fact the lieutenant who collaborated with Aunt Sarah in basically spouting a whole heap of shit to get me off the hook. I know. Makes no sense to me either. When Aunt Sarah broke down and confessed what actually happened, this supposed law-abiding, pillar of the community, supposed to catch the bad guys fuckin’ chief of police… advised Aunt Sarah to say she’d seen the whole thing and that it was my father who pulled the gun. Apparently the fact that he’d disappeared, coupled with the markings to my mom’s body, would fit the ‘story’ perfectly.

  Everyone seemed to believe it. Our faces flooded the newspapers and local news channels in the following days and messages of support poured in from every corner. Support for my mom… support for me. ME!

  To this day I have no clue why the hell she would do such a thing. Maybe she had her own experience of domestic abuse? Maybe she was part of some women’s freakin’ rights team? Hell if I know.

  I never wanted to go through with it. At first I adamantly refused. I deserved to be punished for what I did. I wanted to be punished. I needed to be punished. But Aunt Sarah pleaded with me. Literally falling to her hands and knees, clutching at my clothes as she begged me not to leave her too. So in the end I kept my mouth shut and nodded along with the lies being tossed around. I’ve regretted it every day since. Maybe if I’d been rightly punished back then, I wouldn’t feel the need to do it myself.

  “You’ve no idea what happened after you left that night,” I sneered. “It’s not me the police are interested in. So maybe you should leave before I give ‘em a call.” Still dabbing at his bloody nose with his hand, he laughed at me. Fucking LAUGHED at me. That was what forced my hand into the air again, ready to take an even harder swing.

  “Dexter no,” Emily begged, tugging at my arm with all her strength. “He’s not worth it.” Breathing heavily through pursed lips I made myself focus on her terrified face, knowing if I looked away for even a second, I would forget all about her and end up ramming my fist into my father’s skull. “Please go,” Emily said softly to my dad, almost like she was trying to appeal to a sensitive side I knew he didn’t have. “He’s only just lost his mum. Give him some time at least will you?”

  “Emily what the fu-” I was about to ask her what the fuck she was doing, talking to him like he was a reasonable human being and not a sadistic motherfucking bastard. But, he cut me off.

  “You know, son…” I swallowed forcefully and closed my eyes, desperately trying not to react to that word he didn’t deserve to use on me. “I had hoped things could’ve been different tonight - that we could start over perhaps.”

  “I’d burn in hell before I’d agree to that,” I seethed, taking a protective stance in front of Emily when he made a slow approach towards us. I didn’t want him so much as looking at her – never mind breathing the same air.

  “As you wish. Well, I’ve said what I came to say so I’ll be off now,” he announced calmly, stepping past me and reaching out for the door handle. “But I will be back, son. This house is mine.”

  And then he left. He barreled back into my life, ripped it to fucking shreds, and then left.

  Spinning around to face Emily and cocooning her in my arms, I sucked in a purposeful breath for the first time since I saw his face.

  “What the fuck am I gonna do, doll?” I asked before kissing her hair. “He’s gonna destroy us. Again.”

  **********

  A couple of hours passed before Aunt Sarah got home. I was eager to know how her appointment with my mom’s attorney went because it seemed we might have a fight on our hands. This house was all she had left and I’d be damned if I’d let my father destroy her just like he did my mom.

  Everything I needed to know was written in her expression when she walked through the door. It was bad news.

  “It’s him isn’t it?” I snapped unintentionally. “My father.” Perplexity washed over her face as she walked tentatively towards where Emily and I were sitting and lowered herself onto the chair opposite.

  “How did you…” Aunt Sarah trailed off, unable to finish her question.

  “DAMN that motherfucker!” I blasted, jumping from the chair and smashing my tender fist into the wall – wishing it were my father’s face.

  “Dexter calm down,” Emily soothed. I didn’t hear her get up but she was beside me now, stroking between my tense shoulder blades. “Your anger isn’t going to help anyone.”

  “Emily?” Aunt Sarah questioned when it became obvious I was too fucking angry to talk rationally.

  “His dad showed up here earlier. Dexter was out – I wouldn’t have let him in if I’d known who he was.”

  “He was here? Martin was here?” Aunt Sarah’s cheeks, rosy from the bitter cold outside, paled immediately. “But… that’s not possible,” she mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. Emily and I snapped our gazes towards her in unison. “About an hour ago… I was told your father was dead.”

  Huh?

  “Well who the fuck told you that?” I asked, staring down at my knuckles, eyeing up the dried abrasions – proof he was really here.

  “Your mom’s attorney. Obviously she never divorced your father and I needed to know he wouldn’t be bothering us for any of her assets. That’s when he told me that Martin died almost ten years ago. A couple of weeks after the accident.” I wish people would stop referring to it as ‘the accident’. I picked up that gun intentionally. I deserve people to come right out and admit that I shot my own mother.

  “I don’t understand,” I said to no one in particular. “He w
as here. He said he’d come for the house and that he’d be back. He was here, Aunt Sarah. He was fucking here!”

  Excruciatingly long minutes of silence followed – the only sound was that of Emily’s hand smoothing over my jeans as she tried to calm me.

  “Maybe we should contact the police?” Emily suggested, encroaching the deafening stillness.

  “We can’t,” Aunt Sarah and I muttered sorrowfully at the same time.

  “Not yet anyway,” Aunt Sarah interjected. “I don’t know how much of that day you know about, Emily, but… in order to protect Dexter… we had to lie to the police. As far as they’re concerned… Martin pulled the trigger that day. We can’t afford for that case to be re-opened.”

  “See? I said all along it’d come back to bite us on the ass didn’t I? WE brought this on. Nobody else. I never wanted to fuckin’ lie in the first place!” I blared, unfairly weighing down Aunt Sarah’s shoulders with the blame.

  “I went along with it because I love you goddammit! I will never apologize for that, Dexter. You were just a boy! You made a mistake. I couldn’t see you rot away in jail back then and I still won’t now. I need you okay? I’ve got no one else!” It was only when Aunt Sarah’s voice started breaking and she threw her trembling hands over her face I began to soften.

  “I’m sorry. I just… I just don’t know what we’re going to do,” I admitted, my resolve weakening by the second.