Chapter 24
Sharon walked with Laif across the cool grass of Creo’s green lawn, feeling burning sun on her arms, thinking how uncompassionate Creo was to have not offered help.
He had given the excuse of needing to be neutral. She believed that if there were too many people like him, this world would be a cruel, heartless place.
She remembered with some pride when she was fourteen that her mother had the strength to leave her stepfather, Ralph Anderson. Mom had quickly married after Marlene’s death, as though trying to replace the loss.
Ralph seemed nice during the first few months, buying Sharon and her mother lots of presents and taking them to amusement parks, nice restaurants, and museums. But later Ralph began to request strange things, like asking Sharon to sit on his lap. She didn’t really know him well enough to sit there. But after persisting for weeks, she gave in because she wanted to make him happy. He meant so much to her mother who had been so depressed since Marlene’s death, and even before that from divorcing her father. Sharon desperately wanted her mother to be happy for once. Over the course of the next few months, his demands with Sharon grew bolder, until he reached down her pajama pants one night while they watched television.
Sharon waited for morning when Mom was sober to tell her what had happened. Mom was angry and upset. At first Sharon thought these feelings were directed at herself. But then her mother hugged her and left the bastard that morning. This was the one good thing Mom did that Sharon could look back on with pride.
She was thankful people existed in this world who fought for children.
Creo evidently wasn’t one of them.
She looked up at Laif as they crossed the busy street. He was definitely someone special, and she loved that. He appeared deep in thought. She smiled, knowing she was really beginning to fall for him.
“The next stop is the Brewsters,” he said with confidence. “If we see Adriana with them, then our problem is solved. We call the police, and the state will remove Cindy after the parents are arrested for kidnapping.”
As they reached the parking lot of the convenience store, Sharon noticed a silver pickup truck parked alongside the Mercedes. Inside, a guy and his girlfriend were arguing, cursing, and raising their hands animatedly at each other.
She turned to Laif. He was watching them intently. He asked, “Can I borrow your phone?”
She reached into her purse and handed it to him.
He punched 9-1-1, and after a moment said, “I’d like to report domestic violence.” He gave the cross streets of the convenience store and reported the license plate of the pickup and hung up.
“Why did you do that?”
“I’ve seen situations like this before. The energy inside the couple ends in violence.”
How could he presume to know the outcome of an argument between two strangers? “Maybe we should have waited until we knew for sure before calling the police. They have a busy—”
Suddenly the man in the car began punching his girlfriend, socking her in the chest and stomach and trying for the head as she shielded herself with her arms, simultaneously causing Sharon to hold up her own arms in empathetic defense.
But in this moment of violence, the couple seemed paradoxically calmed. The yelling and cursing had abated. No more harsh comments were being spoken. No more arguing or putting each other down. No more threats of violence filled the air. In fact, the air was silent, except for slaps, thumps, and socks, as communication had completely transformed from verbal to physical.
She reached for Laif’s hand and found it. She gripped it tightly. “Come on. Let’s help.”
He took four steps with her, then stopped.
She turned to face him. “What?”
He hesitated. “We can’t.”
“What’re you talking about? Sure we can.”
“We can’t get involved.”
“You sound like Creo. Has he gotten into you somehow?”
“Of course not. This is different.” He looked at the couple in the truck. A glossy emptiness filled his eyes. “There’s a high degree of evil inside the cab from both parties.”
“What do you mean? He’s beating her. Clearly, he’s a fucking asshole—”
“True.”
“—and she’s a victim.”
“Yes.”
“So let’s go!”
“This isn’t the first time she’s been beaten. And it won’t be the last. She believes she loves him.”
She looked at the couple. Blood was beginning to fall out their noses as they continued lashing at each other. The woman now began to scream intermittently. Sharon’s heart was hammering against her chest, wanting to leap out and stop the injustice. If Laif was right, this woman should have left her boyfriend the first time he hit her. But what if she just didn’t know enough to leave?
“This man is only one of several who abused her. Her father was the first.”
“So we can’t help because she's emotionally sick? Sounds like her father’s more twisted than her.”
The couple stopped fighting and started cursing at each other again.
“Yes, he was. But she allowed his sickness to grow inside her by not facing the truth. She believed her father truly loved her. That’s a lie. Even as she grew into an adult, she didn’t face this. So today, this is what she continues to believe love to be.”
She looked at Laif. He was watching the couple with such sadness in his eyes.
“She believes this so deeply that her heart found another man like her father—one primed for aggression.”
Sharon looked back at the truck. The woman yanked at the man’s hair once, he yanked back, and they began arguing loudly. “So what? She couldn’t face the hard truth of an abusive father. Does that mean she deserves this? She’s already had an abusive life. Let’s help her stop it.” She felt urgency growing inside her. “Aren’t you the one who fights evil?”
“I still risk my life intervening with battered women. The women I help have hit bottom and are ready to grow. This woman isn’t.”
“Well let’s find out for sure.”
“I’ve tried with others before, Sharon. What do you think happens?”
Two customers of the convenience store came out and pointed at the arguing couple.
“I don’t know. You save the girl?” She looked nervously at the two in the silver truck. She was conscious of time dripping away as she and Laif conversed, wondering when the couple might begin throwing punches again. She stepped closer to them, pulling Laif forward.
“Oh, yes. I save her. For a moment. Then she attacks me for having had to punch her boyfriend to get him off her. Or, she goes back to arguing and fighting with him. It’s a dual-dynamic, not a single person that’s creating this. It is two people living their lives to arrive at this.”
“Okay, so she’s made mistakes. She shouldn’t have hooked up with him, she shouldn’t have pushed him over the edge, whatever. But no one’s perfect.”
“Of course. Everyone can make mistakes, but they need to grow from them. She hasn’t. She wishes to remain the same because it’s safer than facing the pain of an unloving father. We cannot save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. She basks in the times when her boyfriend is calm and turns away from when he’s explosive. During violent times, she blames herself so that she can still perceive him as loving.”
She and Laif continued to walk slowly towards the couple’s truck. The yells became louder, and five people had now gathered outside the convenience store. No one was intervening.
“We can’t just sit by and allow this to continue.”
“But it wants to continue. The energy of years of training dictates that this must. Even if we were to stop this one incident, she would go back to him or to another abusive man and re-create the violent dance.”
“But she’s a victim,” Sharon said with less conviction, “a victim of violence.”
“And she’s also a victim of herself for continuing to deny the truth. If she embraced it, her heart would lead her to non-violent men. There’re plenty of lonely, nice guys out there. Believe me. She has accurately steered clear of these many men, as though they were infected with a disease. If she did ever hook up with one of them, she would be forced to face the truth of having an unloving father.”
Inside the cab, the woman shook her head, the man rolled his, and arms flew emphasizing insults.
“But how can she know all that? She hasn’t known anything different than her father.”
“That is the choice we make. To know or not to know. That is the choice branching good and evil directions.”
Sharon didn’t like what he was saying. Something didn’t feel fair about it. And she didn’t like that his logic was eroding hers. “What about your light? Can’t you flash them the truth?”
“Sure, if I want them to go insane or kill themselves.”
Some neighbors across the street had crept out of their front doors, and the cashier joined the five customers standing outside the convenience store, watching but making no attempts to intervene. Sharon could hear one woman saying, “Why do they do that?”
“People always ask that question,” Laif stated, “but few want the answer.”
“I still don’t understand. She’s not evil. She’s hurting no one.”
“Really?”
“Well ... no one but herself.”
She and Laif were ten steps from the Mercedes now.
“Hurting yourself is not evil?” He sighed and stopped walking. “Hurting yourself is enough. But you have no idea what she’s going to put her children through—the abuse, the rage, drugs, chaos, the violent men she will bring into her children’s lives simply because she wasn’t ready to face her father’s abuse. She embraces darkness, just as her father when he turned from the truth of his hurt as a boy and a man, just as her boyfriend continues to do.”
“I don’t know, Laif. This all sounds so strange ... depressing.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.” He looked down at asphalt.
Amazingly, the couple stopped yelling and began talking, arms at their sides. She felt relieved.
Laif began to look worried. “Let’s go. Quickly.”
“Leave?”
“Yes. Something’s wrong.”
“It feels more right than ever.”
He grabbed her hand, and not too gently.
Some neighbors had gathered in a clump of bodies on the sidewalk. One yelled that the police were coming. It’s about time, thought Sharon. Laif called them before the fight had even begun.
He and Sharon hurried to their car. As they got closer, the couple stopped talking. The abusive man made eye contact with Sharon.
The passenger door of the Mercedes was next to this man’s door. She had to pass right beside him. She averted her eyes and quickly went for the door. Laif was already inside. She felt vulnerable with her back towards the truck.
The Mercedes' electronic lock release clicked. She pulled open the door.
A metallic snap came from behind her, then creaking hinges.
It's the man.
As she bent to get in, her purse strap caught on the corner of her door. She pulled herself out a little to unhook the strap, and the man grabbed her blouse and arm.
“You bitch!” he exclaimed, his hot breath hitting her face. “You make me fight with my girlfriend?” His fingers dug into Sharon’s arm, burning.
Laif was already outside the car, circling it as the woman came around the pickup truck, anger contorting her face. She screamed, “Stop messing with my boyfriend, bitch. She ran into Laif with a fist to the gut and pulled his hair back as he reflexively bent forward.
The man spun Sharon around. Hot red scratches and perspiration covered his face, and his messed short black hair jutted every which way. “Why do you like to make me mad?”
Her heart fluttered like a broken winged butterfly. “I don’t. I didn’t do anything.”
“Lying cunt.” His fingers dug harder sending sharp pains into her shoulders. “I hate liars.”
“Stop it,” she said weakly. “Let go of me.”
“Why? You didn’t stop with me. You just keep pushing, huh? You have to keep pushing and pushing until you know what’s gonna happen next? You’re gonna get hurt. This is your fault, bitch.”
“I didn’t do anything. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’ll show you what’s wrong with me.” He shook her against the back of the car.
Some customers from the convenience store began to run towards the scene.
Laif had escaped the woman’s grasp and was pulling at the man’s arm, unhooking fingers that were submerged in Sharon’s flesh. The woman sprang from behind and dragged her orange painted fingernails across Laif’s face, just missing his eyes. He swung his elbow back and into her gut.
The man pulled Sharon’s hair. “Listen, bitch. I’ll teach you a lesson so you can mind your business next time.” He cocked his arm to punch her, but Laif grabbed it and tumbled with him to the ground. The woman jump in, and they rolled across the pavement. A blond haired, young man with his three friends intervened. With difficulty they got the couple off Laif.
Sharon took his arm and helped him up, and they moved away from the others. He thanked the young men, told Sharon to get into the car, and entered on the driver’s side.
As he struggled with the keys, his tan shirt ripped and dirty, the blond haired young man turned toward her door, his face tomato red, his teeth barred.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She was utterly flabbergasted. This guy was just helping them moments ago. What had gotten into him?
Laif turned the key in the ignition, but it wouldn’t start.
The man rushed into her door. Crash! His blond hair flung into his face as he smashed his fist into the glass window beside her head. The window held, but a few spider web cracks reflected bright yellow sunlight.
Another guy from the quartet of friends ran to the car. The bloody couple now was able to move around the remaining two young men.
Laif turned the key in the ignition again. This time it started. He threw the shifter in reverse and slammed his foot into the gas pedal. The fuming blond man was joined by his other friend and the couple, all standing in the parking lot, eight fists clenched as the Mercedes sped backwards towards the exit, Laif looking over his shoulder.
“They’re crazy,” she gasped, chills trickling off her spine.
“A dark mist. I felt it when I fought them. Cindy’s parents must have sent it.” The car flew into the air for a moment after launching off a speed bump, Sharon’s and Laif’s heads smacking into the roof. He skidded into a one-hundred-eighty degree spin, and slipped it into drive.
Massaging the top of her head, she asked, “A dark mist?”
“This evil can channel through anyone’s resident anger.”
“Anyone’s?”
Car metal panged against asphalt as they exited the parking lot onto the street. “Anyone who’s in denial of it.”
“Not many people are in denial, are they?” she asked hopeful.
He released an unpleasant, sharp laugh.