Courage To Live. Morgan Q O'Reilly

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      “Mom!”

      A gentle hand patted my right cheek. The one that didn’t hurt. Although with the red haze enfolding me, I would have been hard pressed to pick a place that didn’t hurt or wasn’t covered in food that had been on our dinner plates. The hand barely touched me. The voice called to me, sweet and sobbing like it hadn’t in years. The cry of a hurting little boy.

      “I’m here, Robbie.” My throat felt raw and a whisper was all I could manage. As much as I wanted to let the dark take me, I couldn’t. Rob was only eleven and while he might have been my height, he was far from being a man. Forcing myself to breathe through the pain coming from my left side, I managed to lift my right eyelid. The left one felt about ten times its normal size. “Get me some ice, sweetheart. And a towel to cushion it, okay?”

      “We have to get out of here!” he protested, but scrambled for the kitchen anyway.

      My heart rate spiked and a surge of adrenalin pushed me into a sitting position. My ribs complained and I bit back a howl of pain, one arm wrapped around my middle, the other braced to hold me up. “Why? Is he coming back?” I gasped. The food that had been dumped on me slid off in a sickening sludge. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I made note that the potato salad would be a bitch to clean out of the carpet where it had been trod in deeply.

      Robbie came back from the kitchen, a wad of dishtowels and ice pack in hand. The big blue one I sometimes used for my back. Ah well, keeping Robbie busy was the important part. If he kept moving, his panic would fade. I hoped. He used another towel to try and wipe some of the mess off my face. The towel came away streaked in red and yellow. Ketchup and mustard, mostly. Maybe some of that red was blood.

      “He broke all the phones. We need to get out and call the police.”

      “Did he leave?” I winced as the ice touched my cheek.

      “Yeah, he drove away. Really fast.”

      Maybe Quint would skid on the ice building up on the roads. With the latest snowstorm moving in, it was possible. If God were really on my side, a DUI would put him in lockup for a night. Possibly longer. It would give me the time to do what I needed to do.

      “We need to call for help. You look awful, Mom. I’ll go next door and call an ambulance.” He started to get up, but I grabbed his arm.

      “Here, let me get up. I just need to clean up and rest a bit.” Robbie wanted to help, but he was afraid of hurting me more. Just as well, I didn’t know how bad my ribs were and didn’t want to risk breaking what might only be cracked. With luck, only bruised, but Quint had a big foot and strong legs. He also had a hundred pounds on me.

      “Mom!”

      “Relax, honey. It’s your fight-or-flight reflex kicking in. He won’t come back tonight.” Although this was the worst he’d ever beaten me, it’d been years since the last time. Years since he’d left a large bruise, but I knew the routine. After a big fight, physical or not, he’d go somewhere and sleep it off. Robbie and I were okay for the night. Light-headed and breathing shallowly, I used the corner of the table to climb to my feet. “Help me clean up, then I’ll go rest in my chair.”

      “I’ll clean up. You sit.” Robbie carefully slipped an arm around my waist and helped me settle in my chair near the front window. He lifted my feet onto the ottoman and pushed my little computer table within my reach.

      “We should still have internet.” He handed me more towels before returning to the kitchen. “The house base phone is smashed and he destroyed your cellphone. Can you call the police on Skype?”

      “First we’d better see if there’s an around-the-clock locksmith who answers emails after hours.” Using the towels, I wiped up as much of the mess from myself as I could. Later, I’d shower and worry about the stains.

      I wasn’t willing to call the police, they’d never helped much before, but the locks were getting changed and the garage door opener disengaged. It was time. Five months ahead of my carefully planned and scheduled exit from hell for Robbie and me, but time nonetheless.

      Quint had finally punched my last button.

       Chapter 1