Sheltered - A Short Story Read online

  “Devyn, he’s not going to stop unless he is put behind bars,” Brent said, leaning forward onto the table. “Say you do end up leaving – which you should – but he finds another woman to take him. What’s going to happen to her? Is it right to let what happened to you happen to someone else if you knew you could stop it?”

  “Don’t tell me what’s right!” I yell, throwing my fist onto the table. “You have no idea what it was like to live through hell everyday – not knowing if you were going to survive or if this beating was going to be the one that finally does you in! Don’t sit there and preach to me about what is right! I am doing what is right for me!”

  Brent sat back in his chair, his face softening as he bit his lower lip. I couldn’t believe that he told me that.

  “We all have our hells, Devyn,” he said slowly.

  My legs began to tremble as I stood up and left the cabin in a hurry. The door slammed hard behind me, but I didn’t care, it only emphasized my anger.

  I walked briskly towards the far side of the lawn. Cassidy and Baby had long been gone by this point but I really wished they would have returned. Something as beautiful as watching that mother and child would have calmed me down. But a large part of me didn’t want to calm down. The anger and frustration I was feeling needed to be felt, needed to understood.

  I walked to the edge of the yard where the tree line started and stood there. A small path wound its way through the trees and it looked as if it had been carved by years of animals using the same trail to find food. With one foot in front of the other, I walked down the path, unsure if I was going to return to Brent.

  The woods were alive that day. It was as if nature had come out and was doing its best to cheer me up. A pair of sparrows followed me, flying from branch to branch, singing me a song that I wished I could have learned and sang back. I found myself in a small clearing, maybe only a few yards across. On the far side stood Cassidy and Baby. Their necks raised as their mouths continued to chew, watching me. I knelt down on my knees and held out my hand towards Baby. It curiously sniffed the air to see if it could sense any danger. Seeing that I was fine, it began to take a few steps towards me. I chuckled silently as it got within a yard of me, its neck stretching out to smell my hand. But then a twig broke behind me and the two deer ran off, disappearing into the woods.

  I rose to my feet, smiling at the little moment I just had. When I turned around, I saw something red catching my eye. It was on the trunk of a tree, a few yards behind me. I approached cautiously and when I got to the base of the tree, I stood there frozen. A dark, nearly black hand print had been painted onto the bark. I looked at it curiously then slowly rose my hand and placed it over the print. My hand was the exact same size of the print. That’s when it hit me – this was my bloody hand print from the night I left.

  My knees began to tremble again as all the emotions of that night rushed back to me. Brent was right – I couldn’t go back to Sloan. I had to do what was best for me, however hard that may be. I lowered my hand and stared at the hand print for a while before walking back down the path the way I came. Brent was looking out for me because he cared for me – he genuinely cared. But I couldn’t call the cops. That would just make things so much worse.

  I pushed open the door to the cabin and let the light flood in around me, igniting a trail of airborne dust. Brent was standing at the sink finishing up our dishes from lunch. At my sight, he set down the last dish and turned around, his back leaning against the counter. I locked eyes with him, sorrow quickly filling my face. Pushing aside a chair, I ran to him and fell into his arms. Brent held me tightly, the way he always did.

  “Brent, I am so sorry,” I cried. “You are right.”

  “It’s okay, Devyn,” he said softly, running a hand down the back of my head.

  We stood there and held each other for what seemed like an hour, not really saying anything, just holding on. I knew that what was ahead of me was not going to be easy, but maybe with Brent by my side it would make things not seem so disheartening. If only I knew how terrible things were about to get.

  It was an hour after I returned to the cabin and we found ourselves sitting on the porch. Brent was busily sharpening his ax while I sat there completely engulfed in Into the Wild. The sun was shining extra bright that afternoon and the birds were singing their songs gaily, as if there were no troubles in the world. I paused from reading and closed the book, sticking a finger in between the pages where I left off.

  “Do you think we could do it?” I asked, looking at Brent.

  Brent continued to sharpen the ax but said, “Do what, Pudding?”

  I chuckled at his pet name for me. Sloan never gave me any endearing names.

  “Make it on our own,” I said.

  Brent stopped sharpening and placed his hands on top of the ax as if he was deep in thought. “Yeah, I do. In fact, I know we can.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Brent sighed. “The world is a big place, Devyn. If we can’t be happy here, then we’ll find some place where we can be.”

  A small smile crossed my face. His confidence drew me in like a child to candy. It was one of the first things I admired about him.

  “Where will we go?” I asked.

  “Where ever,” he said, returning to his task. “How about Alaska?”

  “Alaska?” I asked, shocked. “I don’t know, Brent.”

  “Oh, come on! Picture it: waking up every morning in a cabin – next to me, of course – walking outside with your coffee, watching a family of moose graze in our yard, the peaks of the mountains peering out over top of the trees, the sounds of millions of acres of wilderness caressing your ears.”

  Brent stopped what he was doing and looked off into the distance with a smile. Myself, I couldn’t help but get lost in Brent’s dream as well.

  “Sounds heavenly,” I said softly.

  Brent nodded slowly. “And part of that book your reading takes place in Alaska.”

  “I’m gathering that,” I say through a laugh. “You’ll do anything to get me up there, won’t you?”

  “Well, not anything,” Brent said jokingly. “But I’ll sure as hell pull out a few classic moves.”

  “Classic moves? Like what?” I said, continuing to laugh.

  “I call this one the Slip ‘n Slide,” Brent said.

  He set the ax down and stood up in front of me. He took a step and jokingly slipped. As he was falling, he grabbed a hold of my hand and planted a kiss. When he was on the ground, his lips were still pressed against the back of my hand. The only thing I could do was laugh.

  “Pretty smooth!” I said. “I haven’t laughed like this in…in years!”

  “Well we have decades more of laughter to come so don’t go wasting it all up today,” Brent said, finding his seat again.

  It was then, in the middle of a laugh and genuine smile, that I saw the car pull into the clearing. At first, I thought maybe it was one of Brent’s friends coming to visit. But as it got closer, I realized exactly what it was.

  “Why are the cops here?” I said firmly, a splinter of terror in my voice.

  “Devyn, I know you said you didn’t want to call them, but this is best,” Brent said, trying to reassure me by placing a hand on my knee.

  “You don’t understand, Brent!” I yelled.

  I was just about to run into the cabin or maybe the woods – anything to get away – when the cop parked right in front of the cabin. It was too late – he had already seen me.

  “Afternoon,” said the officer stepping out of his car, letting the door slam shut.

  “Afternoon,” replied Brent, rising to his feet.

  I watched with scornful eyes as the officer slowly approached the porch. He walked as if had supreme authority over us and in that moment, he did. My hands began to sweat profusely as they gripped my pants. I kept my head down, doing anything in my power to not let him get a good look at me.

  “What seems to be the trouble?” the o
fficer asked, now standing a few feet from me.

  “Well, it really is a terrible situation,” Brent said, looking at me. “Devyn, would you like to tell him what happened?”

  I didn’t respond. I kept my head down and was doing everything I could to keep my anger inside. Brent set a hand on my shoulder to get my attention.

  “Devyn? The officer is here to help,” he said softly.

  “Does this have to do with the gash on your face, miss?” the officer said.

  My head remained down. In that moment, I wanted to run, but I knew there was nowhere I could go. How could Brent have done this to me? After I told him not to do it?

  “Why don’t I take a look at ‘ya?” the officer said, taking a few steps towards me.

  He bent down in front of me and leaned his head in so he could see my face. For a brief moment, we made eye contact and that was all it took.

  “It’s a shame, miss. If something happened to you, I’d love to help but you need to tell me what happened,” the officer said.

  I didn’t believe him. He wouldn’t have helped me.

  “What’s her name?” the officer asked, turning to Brent when he realized I wasn’t going to give him any answers.

  “Devyn,” Brent replied.

  I eye balled the ax sitting next to Brent’s chair and strongly considered wielding the recently sharpened weapon. I simply couldn’t believe Brent was doing this!

  “Well, Miss, I have other things I need to attend to today so when you decide to talk, give me a call,” said the officer setting down a business card on my knee. I read the name on the car and felt my heart drop into my stomach.

  “I’m sorry about this, officer,” Brent apologized. “I guess it’s just still the whole shock of things.”

  “I understand that,” said the officer, who I then knew was Officer Waldon. “Sometimes these things take time. But just know, nothing is as bad as it seems. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

  I could tell this didn’t sit well with Brent. He reached out for the Officer Waldon’s hand and shook it firmly.

  “Thank you, officer,” Brent said. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”

  Officer Waldon walked back to his car and stood by the door. He took one long look at me before opening the door and getting in. As his car disappeared back into the woods, Brent came up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “He was here to help, Devyn,” he said softly.

  “How could you? I told you not to call the cops!” I yelled. “You’ve ruined everything!”

  “How could I have ruined everything?” Brent asked sincerely. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “You don’t understand!” I yelled, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “How can you move on if we can’t seek justice?”

  “You don’t understand!” I yelled again.

  “I get that I don’t understand, Devyn! Make me understand!”

  I stormed off the porch and walked into the yard. Brent was right behind me keeping up with me but giving me my space.

  “We can work through this together!” Brent yelled.

  “Not this! Not with Sloan!” I replied.

  “Devyn, let’s talk about it!”

  I stopped and turn around so I was facing him. “Sloan is a cop, Brent!”

  Brent froze in his place. He wouldn’t admit to it but I saw for a brief moment a look of terror flash across his face.

  “They stick together!” I explained. “They think since they’re the law, whatever they do is ok!”

  Brent didn’t say anything. He simply stood there with his arms out in front of him as if he was asking what to do next.

  “And that officer? Officer Waldon? He’s buddies with Sloan! He’s going to tell Sloan where I’m at!”

  “Then we’ll leave,” Brent said without missing a beat. “I can keep you safe.”

  “Can you, Brent? From Sloan? From the law?”

  Brent took a few steps towards me so we were only a few feet apart. “I don’t know how were going to do it or where we’re going to go, but you’ll be safe. We’ll start a new life! Change our names!”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, Brent. I can’t pull you into this.”

  “Don’t you understand? I’m not asking you to let me help you. You came to me. You found me. And when you were on the ground in my yard in the middle of the night, bleeding, unconscious – I made a vow to see you through this. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.”

  I looked at Brent and in his eyes I saw hope. He flashed a smile and all I could in that moment was run into his arms. He held me for what seemed like the thousandth time over the past couple of days as I cried. He kissed me on the forehead and as the scruff from his beard brushed against my head, I suddenly remembered what it was like to trust him. I knew that we would make it.

  “We should get ready to leave,” Brent whispered.

  I nod my head and wiped my tears away. He was right. However magical this place was, it was time that we left it behind us. If we didn’t, Sloan would find us and kill me and even Brent. We had to leave. For the second time in a few days, I was preparing to leave something behind that I thought would last forever. I kept telling myself that it was all going to be okay, but a small part of me told me that it was going to get much more difficult before it got better.

  It was a couple hours later and the sun had just set as Brent was throwing the last of his belongings into a bag. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him as he hurried about the cabin. Terrible feelings welled up inside of me from the realization that I was forcing Brent from his home. As I sat there on the bed, I couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

  “Hey, hey,” Brent said, noticing my sorrow and kneeling in front of me. “We’re going to be alright. Everything is going to be okay.”

  He kissed my forehead and I smiled back at him. Brent reached over and grabbed a book off the bed and placed it in my hands. It was Into the Wild.

  “You might want to bring this with you,” he said through a boyish grin.

  I held it tightly as I smiled at him. Brent stood up and walked over to the far wall. He stood in front of the picture with his parents and stared at it for a moment.

  “There are times when I wonder if my parents would be proud of the way I live my life,” he said softly. “But then I know that if they could see me in moments like this, I know they would smile.”

  He grabbed the picture off the wall and stuck it in his bag.

  “Ok, I’m going to take the last bag out to my truck then we’ll be ready to go,” Brent said.

  I nodded and forced a smile. As Brent left, I looked around the cabin. The furniture was still there along with a few knickknacks but it seemed so bare – so empty. I had only been there a couple days but this place already felt like home. Brent came back in and sat next to me on the bed. He wrapped his strong arms around me and held me tightly to his chest.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I knew he meant if I was ready to go, but to me the question asked so much more. Was I ready to leave a place I felt safe? Was I willing to start a completely new life and not know if we were going to okay? I simply nodded before leaning in and kissing him.

  The roar of an engine broke apart our kiss. We both looked out the window and saw the headlights of a pickup coming barreling into the yard. Immediately I knew it was Sloan. It was too late. He had found us and for all we knew, he was ready to kill us.

  The truck came to a screeching halt just short of the porch. I reached over for Brent and grabbed a hold of his hand firmly. Brent turned to look at me but my eyes were glued on the truck. As the door to the truck opened, Brent reached up and pulled the curtains shut. I didn’t know if we were going to survive that night, but something in me said to trust Brent completely.

  “Whatever happens, stay inside,” he said, looking me in the eyes.

  I nodded. There was no way in hell I was going to go outside with Sloan out there.
r />   “Devyn!” I heard Sloan cry out. “Get your ass out here!”

  Through a crack in the curtains, I could see Sloan standing just off the porch, finishing up the last of a beer, a cigarette smoldering in between his lips. He chucked the bottle at the cabin which shattered into hundreds of pieces. He took a few wobbly steps closer to the cabin and from the light of the windows, I could see that Sloan’s face was badly burned. Bandages covered the side and top of his head, some soaked through with blood. When I hit him with the beer bottle, his face must have gone into the fire. Being as drunk as he was, he probably was unable to pull himself out of the fire in time.

  “Devyn! Get the fuck out here, bitch!”

  “I’m going to say something to him,” Brent said, standing to his feet,

  “No! No, Brent! Don’t go out there!” I pleaded.

  “Devyn, I’ll be okay,” he reassured me. “I’m just going to tell him to leave.”

  “Don’t leave me, Brent!”

  “I’ll be just outside the door.”

  “He’ll kill you!”

  Brent froze. He knew I was right. A strong hand came up and pulled me into his chest. Sloan continued call for me, but we didn’t answer.

  “I know you’re in there, Devyn!” Sloan yelled. “Fine, you won’t willingly come to me, I’ll have to force you out!”

  Sloan turned and disappeared to the back of his truck.

  “What’s he mean by that?” I asked Brent, terrified.

  Brent didn’t answer me. Instead he continued to hold me while he watched through the crack in the curtains. After a few moments, Sloan came back to the front of the truck carrying two red gas cans.

  “He wouldn’t do it,” Brent said. “He wouldn’t do it.”

  Sloan set down one of the cans and walked up the porch. He quickly began emptying the contents of can all over the porch. When the first one was emptied he went back to get the second one. Brent let go of me and briskly walked to the door. He flung it open, the door slamming against the wall.

  “You need to leave, Sloan!” Brent called out, taking a combat ready stance.