This chapter is dedicated to sarcasmholic who has been following Patrice's struggles with great insight. Thanks for all your support and valuable feedback :)

14 - Iron Fist (Part II)

A couple of weeks later, Marcus calls my bluff when he sends me to Doctor Sullivan's office to drop off the final check. It's my last chance to set things straight with him, but when I'm actually standing in front of the receptionist, my courage deserts me. Marcus is right. At this point, I lied so many times to authority figures that they will dismiss any allegation as bogus. Getting Marcus mad at me will be the only consequence and I'll end up worse off than I'm now. I had my opportunity to speak up and blew it.

On my way out, I run into Rena, the girl I met at the shelter when I was staying there with my mom and my siblings. I read on the internet that she had ended up killing her boyfriend, but the judge let her off lightly after a jury convicted her of manslaughter. Marcus, who had prosecuted the case, had been furious about the sentence and appealed, but I have no idea what happened in the end.

Curious to learn what she's been up to, I approach her while she waits for the elevator. "Hey, what's up?"

Her smile is reserved. "Okay. How 'bout you?"

"Fine."

Awkward silence follows as I eye her discreetly. She is pale as fuck but otherwise, I can't tell she's been to jail. How long has she been out? Must be about six months now.

"How is your mom?" she asks.

Her question drives tears to my eyes when all the stress of the last few weeks creeps up on me. "She's having a lot of problems with my dad. It has been hell."

"You want to get some coffee and talk about it?"

I can't help for a few tears to escape. She is practically a stranger, but her gaze is so open and genuine as if she actually cares. "Would you mind? My friends all don't know and I have no one else to talk to."

"Not at all. Come on, my treat."

As we cross the street, I check my watch. Marcus said he'll pick me up at three thirty, so that will give us almost half an hour. We should be okay. Rena ushers me into the small diner and we settle in a private booth in a corner. After we order, the awkward silence is back until I finally break it.

"My mom filed another divorce petition just after Christmas, but my dad got temporary custody again. When she tried to come home, he had changed the locks and didn't let her back in until she signed an affidavit that she had made up all that stuff about him. After that, he beat the shit out of her before calling us kids downstairs and forcing mom to tell us that she was a whore and terrible mother." The tears are rolling freely as the memory replays in my mind. It's still so vivid, like it just happened yesterday. "He made us spit on her."

Rena looks horrified. "I'm so sorry, Patrice."

I wipe the tears off on my sleeve, embarrassed to have lost my composure in front of her. "That's not all. He made her drop the divorce after he told her that he'll take Lamar and Alyssa away from her and she would never see them again. Since then, he has been controlling her every move. She is not allowed to go anywhere without his say-so." Fresh tears threaten to choke me. "And the other day, he spanked Lamar real bad. He wasn't able to sit without pain for a week. Everyone is just tiptoeing around the house since then, waiting for him to explode. It's unbearable."

"Did you tell Doc Sullivan?"

I shake my head. "I just talked to him a few times when the custody petition was still pending and only dropped off a check for him today from my dad. I don't really like him—he's a dick and very annoying. I never told him what was going on. If I did, my dad would probably kill me." I omit that by lying to him, I ended up screwing myself over. Hindsight can be cruel and in this case, too late.

"You know, Patrice, he's actually not so bad once you get to know him and could really help you. He has a lot of pull with the courts."

"My dad would find a way to get himself out of that mess and then he would come after me. No, I can't do it."

She stirs her coffee, yet her eyes don't waver once from my face. "What about you? Does he still touch you?"

"You know about that?" Heat crawls up my neck and into my cheeks—what the hell? Has my mom been telling everyone about our problems?

"Your dad made some inappropriate remarks to me and I figured it out. How long has he been sexually abusing you?"

"Since I was fourteen." Disgust flickers in her eyes. "I'm going to Purdue University in Indiana in a few months and will be out of the house. Do you think he'll go after Alyssa?"

"I honestly don't know, but he never struck me as a pedophile who would molest his own kids. I always thought he is more like a pervert who likes young girls and is only into you since you're not his real daughter."

"Yeah, let's hope so." I clear my throat, eager to change the subject. "By the way, my mom said you had a baby. You got some pictures?"

With the biggest smile, she pulls out her phone and flicks through a few photos. "Here, that's him. His name is Noah."

"Awe, look at those little dimples. He is a cutie alright. How old is he now?"

"Three months. He's growing so fast and every time I blink, he has learned something new. He's really smart."

"I bet." I pick at a few leftover crumbs from the apple pie on her plate to control the sudden lump in my throat. Despite the abuse she suffered at the hands of her boyfriend, she has gotten her life back on track. Maybe there's hope for me, too. "You know, if you ever need a babysitter, just let me know."

"Sure, what's your number?"

I take her offered phone and add me as a contact and she gives me her number as well.

Eager to keep the conversation going, I rake through my brain what else to ask without coming across as too pushy. "So do you have a new boyfriend?"

"No. I think it'll be a while before I'm ready. Sometimes, I think I'll never trust another guy again."

"Yeah, I totally get what you mean. I don't know if I ever want another man to touch me after what my dad did to me."

"And what would that be, my dear?" The words are soft but full of menace.

I choke on the sudden panic. How could I have missed Marcus walking up? And more so, how did he even know we were here?

He squats down, his mouth right on the level with my ear. "I hope you're not spreading lies about me like your mom, because that would have some serious consequences."

Heat flushes my cheeks and I bite my lip, my eyes still stuck to the plate in front of Rena. If I admit that she knows, he will make me pay, even if I wasn't the one who told her.

"Patrice, answer me." The command is a bare hiss.

Tears plug the words in my throat.

Grabbing me by my hair, he forces me to look at him. "I said answer me. What did you tell her?"

Denial. It's the best I can do under the circumstances. "Nothing Dad, I swear."

His eyes are pitch black, I'm in deep shit. "You little liar. Wait until I get you home."

Rena clears her throat. "Mr. Forrester—"

His pointed finger cuts her off. "Don't side with my daughter or you'll regret it. It takes me one call to your probation officer and you'll spend the next month in jail. So, unless you want to be locked up again, stay out of my family's business and that includes any information you may have been privy to this afternoon."

When he grabs my wrist and yanks me, I can't hold a small cry. Pain shoots up my arm and into my shoulder. Pulling out his wallet, he drops a twenty dollar bill on the table before dragging me out of the diner. Shoving me into his car, he takes off with screeching tires.

"What the fuck did you tell her?" Even the roar of the engine can't overpower his livid words.

"I swear, Dad, I didn't tell her anything. She already knew."

"And how's that?"

"She said she figured it out after you made some inappropriate comments." I can't hold his gaze when his head snaps around. "This wasn't my fault."

"Oh, and now you're implying it's mine?" His chuckle is vicious. "Cut the crap, Patrice. I can always tell when you are lying."

"But Dad—"

"Zip it."

Speeding like a maniac when he hits the highway, we head toward Winnetka. His jaw is clenched in utter fury the entire time. This is not over. As soon as he gets me home, there'll be repercussions.

"How did you even know where I was?" I ask when he turns on the blinker at our exit.

"Why? Did you think I wouldn't find you?" He smirks as his eyes briefly flick to me. "There's no hiding from me, Patrice. I will always know where you are."

An uneasy feeling settles in my guts. Though the threat is subtle, it's also very potent. At a red traffic light, my gaze rests on the door handle. I could just jump out of the car and run, through if he really has a way of tracking me, flight will only enrage him further.

As soon as the pulls up in front of the house, I throw open the car door and rush inside. If I make it to my room, I can lock myself in. He catches up with me only feet from the finish line, the blow to my back knocking me right off my feet. By my hair, he drags me into the room. There, he tosses me against the wall. I groan as I go down.

"I'll teach you once and for all not to run your mouth." He towers over me, gazing down in utter disgust. The kick is hard and hits me right in my rib cage. Gasping for air, I'm helpless when the second kick strikes. Salt from my tears mixes with blood and saliva in my mouth as the pain causes mayhem with every breath.

"Please, Dad. I'm sorry." My whimpered words are overpowered by his huff when the tip of his shoe finds its mark in the middle of my stomach. Coughing and splattering, I choke on bile.

"Ever since I've married that piece of shit mother of yours, I've treated you like a princess. And now this. Is that's how you repay me? By badmouthing me? And then lying about it to my face?"

"Dad, I'm sorry—"

"Sorry doesn't cut it. What have you been telling people about me?"

Another kick to the middle of my stomach thwarts any chance of a reply. I gag, my arms cradling around my midsection to protect myself from another blow. My breath is my enemy as the waves of pain curl every nerve end in my body.

He squats down and pulls my head up by my hair to force eye contact. "Answer me, Patrice. What lies have you been putting in people's heads? That I raped you?"

"No, Dad."

"Because face it, you're a whore, just like your mom, coming onto me like you have. You wanted this even more than I did." He shakes me hard when I whimper. "Say it, Patrice. Say it was all your doing."

His eyes are so dark that they overspill with evil. Fearing he'll kill me if I say only one wrong word, I groan out the words. "You're right. I lead you on and I'm so sorry."

When he releases me abruptly, my chin hits the ground. Dizzy and close to hurling, my eyes find the low space under the bed.

Crawl away.

Before I can move, his hand wraps around my wrist as he yanks me on my feet. Throbbing rushes up and down my arm—I'm not even sure he didn't pull my joint from the socket.

"You're a worthless piece of shit, Patrice."

Twisting my arm on my back, he shakes me as he drives me to the bed. When I hit the mattress, the surreal buzzing in my ears pulls a thick blanket over me. I gasp for air—it's as if I'm suffocating.

Sobbing.

Pleading.

Groaning with pain.

He shows no mercy. In the end, his trusts leave me a ball of agony and only the slamming door is my salvation. My body survived, but my soul will carry those scars forever.

The violence escalates with Patrice's increased defiance as we are about to wrap up this story. Two more chapters to go before this story will end in the exact same spot as Road to Recovery. I hope you enjoyed meeting Rena again through Patrice's eyes and that despite the overlap, the second part of this chapter was not too boring.

I'm going on vacation June 9th and determined to finish up the story before that, so expect regular postings until then. Thanks for reading and sticking with my rather erratic schedule :)