Carryl's P.O.V
Jackson had been going at a steady 180km per hour. He kept glancing at me but said nothing. He did not need to, the worry was engraved on his face and it showed in the way he gripped the steering wheel as if he were trying to hold his life together. I appreciated that he gave me my space even though, I could tell, he wanted to do the opposite. I rolled the window down letting the cold air slap across my face. I closed my eyes although sleep was the last thing on my mind. Dread had had its icy tendrils around my throat from the moment I had gotten that rotten call this morning. Jackson's offer although kind had forced me to make a journey I had promised myself never to make under any circumstances.
The closer we got the more I wished I was anywhere else. I felt no shred of pity for that monster. Everything that happened to him was exactly what he deserved even worse. He had pummeled every ounce of empathy I might have had for him a long time ago. I had made a vow that not even death would take me back there. The look on my new friend's face had me going if just to avoid the line of questioning and the looks of pity that would follow if I refused to go. I did not want anybody from the life that I had built for myself to get a preview of what my life used to be. I had left that pathetic defenseless and forgiving version of me behind and in some way that scared me more than anything. I was not ready to face my old ghost.
Flashback
"Yoh!" Gregory hit my back causing me to choke on the sausage I had been gobbling down.
"Hey watch it!" I snapped back after a coughing fit. He shrugged his shoulders giving an infuriating smile.
"At least you slowed down enough for the rest of us to stand a chance." I rolled my eyes at him.
I was thinking of a scathing remark when my phone rang interrupting the earth-shattering retort that I was going to throw his way. It was an unknown number and something about that had my heart skipping a beat. I rarely got calls from the people I knew unknown numbers were basically alien to my phone. Something felt off
"Hello?"
"Hello is this Mr. Crawford?" and my heart dropped to my feet as my palms began sweating. I had not heard that name in a good while. Nobody called me that anymore. It was a different name belonging to a different me that had thankfully died and had been forgotten
"Yes, this is he. How can I help you?" I asked my voice trembling slightly. I hated that all it took was a name to open a floodgate of fear that used to rule my life. I took a shaky breath in, the gesture drawing the attention of the others.
"My name is Luther. I am calling from ST Mary Hospital. I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news but we need you to come down to the hospital. Your father got into a bar fight and was beaten severely. We tried to treat him but he succumbed to his injuries. His body is currently in our morgue."
I know that no amount of explaining would justify how I felt, but a flood of relief rushed through my body as I slumped onto the chair eyes closed. A tear slipped past my eyes as soon as I opened them alarming my friends, their concern had me full-on bawling. I had truly come far and now there was nothing that would ever jeopardize that. My phone was snatched out of my hand as arms wrapped themselves around me cocooning me with warmth. I knew they were just worried and that had the floodgates opening. I now truly had the chance to be happy.
"Okay, we will be there by this evening." I heard Jackson saying before hanging up my phone.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked while soothing my back, trying to calm me down.
"His father has passed," he said in a quiet voice as if trying to keep it from me. Gregory's and Sam's arms tightened around my body.
"I will drive you down there, Sam can ask for a leave of absence and Gregory can contact anybody you wish to inform. We are here for you, anything you need." Jackson said pilling into the hug warming my heart.
End of flashback
It would have been weird to tell them I was crying because I was happy so I let them make arrangements around me. I went along with it despite my unvoiced objections. At the very least I would have the pleasure of seeing him go up in flames because I will be damned if I went through the process of arranging a funeral for him. Nobody who truly knew him would bother coming and I refused to be subjected to the torture of false sympathies from those that watched as the one person who ought to have protected me punished me for existing.
When Jackson pulled into the hospital parking lot all strength left my body. I was not ready to face my past even if it was lying dead on a cold slab. Maybe I needed therapy after all, I thought to myself as I allowed Jackson to basically carry me out of my seat. My feet felt heavy as I dragged them. The unfamiliar hospital felt depressingly in theme with my current situation. The old but well-maintained hallways held those looking for salvation, medical or otherwise. Jackson led me down the hall following instructions he had been given at the reception. Our footsteps echoed down the hall each step sounding like a nail being driven Into a coffin, it also felt like it. With each step I took it got harder to breathe, my heavy feet had long since turned into lead.
By the time we arrived at the door, I was a hyperventilating mess. I still felt no pity for the deceased man yet memories long repressed forced their way into my conscious mind. A foot in the rib, fists on my cheek, hair pulled out of my scalp. The memories were so clear and so painful. As if living through that torture once was not enough, my mind attacked me in a way I could not defend myself from. I wanted nothing more than to crumble to the floor for the rest of the day or for the rest of my life. Jackson wrapped his arms around my shaking frame offering much-needed comfort.