Evening the Score

We entered by the front door.  “Grab what you can.”  He looked at his watch.  “Ten minutes.  Checkbook.  Laptop.  Credit cards.  Any cash.”  His hands were shaking.  “Jewelry,” he added, looking at me.  “Do you have any jewelry?”

I nodded. 

“Get it.  Now.”

When I emerged from the bedroom, he was carrying the computer out the front door.  “That’s not important.”

He shrugged me off and made his way to the car.  “I know what I’m doing.”  He set the computer in the trunk and entered the garage.  He emerged with a sledge hammer and ran towards the back of the house.  He brought the hammer hard against the sliding glass door, shattering it.

I jumped back.  “Jesus.  Is that necessary?”

He covered his arm with his sweatshirt and reached inside to unlock the door.  He pulled his keys from his pocket; tossed them to me.  “Get the baby in the car.  Drive down two blocks.  Wait there.  Make sure he doesn’t see you.”

“But…”

“Do it, Lilly.”

I grabbed the baby from her crib and ran to the car. 

“Where Daddy?”

“It’s OK,” I said, not believing it.  “Sit here.”  I set the baby in the passenger seat and put the keys in the ignition.  “It’s OK.  It’s OK,” I told myself, driving down the block slowly, watching for him in the rearview mirror.  A red BMW drove slowly down the street, pausing in front of the house momentarily.  A school bus dropped off five elementary school children at the corner.  I took out my cell phone, punched in a number.

He didn’t answer.

The back door of the car opened.  “Drive.  Drive.”  He pounded on the back of the seat. 

I glanced at him in the mirror.  He was covered in blood.

“Dad?”

“I should have listened to you the first time, Lilly.” 

“Oh, Dad.  What did you do?” 

“Bastard’s never going to hurt you again.  Drive, Lilly.”

My father wanted to even the score.  I'd only wanted to get away.

This is a continuation of Three Times True and was written in response to the second part of this week's three-part Trifecta Writing Challenge.