8 - Face Down

By the time curfew rolled around, Robin's fight was depleted. Somehow she made it upstairs, but the event slipped her mind. Through a daze, she completed her bedtime chores. Both girls proved exhausted as they quickly fell into a slumber.

"Er?" Her forehead smoothed gently. "Erin, wake up."

"What? Where's Mommy?"

"I, uh, I'm not sure. Your father said she'll be here tomorrow," Robin whispered. "What's wrong? You were talking in your sleep."

"Oh, uh, nothing. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Alright. I'm going back to sleep, okay."

"Okay."

Neither of them slept well, each having a one-track mind focused on their parents.

∞

Ding, dong! The doorbell chimed, followed by a prompt rap.

Robin's head shot up from the dish in her hand.

Erin jumped to her feet as she raced out of the kitchen. "Mommy's here!" Erin squealed as she ran with her ladybird rucksack to answer the door. Swinging the door open, she unlocked the storm door and jumped into her mother's arms.

"Hi! How's my Erry Berry doing?"

"Great! Come 'er Momma!" Erin dragged the fox into the kitchen where Robin stood washing the utensils.

Relieved by the gentle greetings, Robin turned back to the sink. Her fingers were getting wrinkled from the spray. She dried her hands on the tea towel and faced the females.

"Hi, I'm Erin's mother, Molly." Gently, Mrs Bishop took Robin's hand in her own. Her hand was slim and smooth from the soap.

"Good morning, ma'am." She offered a polite smile. Her eyes barely met the straight haired lady with a giant grin. "My name's Robin."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Gary's not giving you too much trouble is he?" Her voice held a laugh, but her eyes deceived her.

A silent admonish issued underneath her jollity, Robin could feel it in her gut. 'Gary?' Robin wracked her brain, and then the search proved rewarding. Robin shook her crown. "No, ma'am, not at all." The woman was nosey, Robin could sense it.

"What about me?"

"Speak of the devil," she joked to the girls before he entered the room.

Mr Bishop quirked his brow but shook his head, losing his curiosity. "Hello, Molly. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. Yourself?"

"Good, thanks. Well, I'm sure Erin is dying to spend the weekend with you, so let's not keep her waiting." He wanted Mrs Bishop out of the house quick, that was evident, his tone of voice was clear.

Robin watched the two, searching for his tells hidden and revealed.

The way his shoulders rolled and his chest puffed out claimed his authority. Mrs Bishop, on the other hand, tucked her already tucked hair behind her ear. The only thing they shared in common was their itch to leave one another's sight. Tension hung in the air like hydrogen molecules clung to oxygen.

"Can we go to Storybook Land? You promised that you'd take me!" Happy for the relief, Mrs Bishop swung Erin on her hip. "Do you have everything?"

"Mmhm!"

"I'll take her bags are to your car," Mrs Bishop said.

"Thanks."

"It was nice meeting you, Robin. I'll see you tomorrow night, Gary. Bye!"

"Bye, Daddy! Bye, Robin!"

"Goodbye, Erin, ma'am." Robin watched a twang of sadness filled her chest. She hated seeing the girl she had grown so close to leave so soon, but she kept a large smile until the car zoomed off the block.

∞

Her muscles trembled fiercely, but she was neither cold nor hot. Watching him pace around the room straight after Erin and Mrs Bishop left was unnerving and made all her senses heighten. As if she only thought her parents, primarily her father, had this capability to make her so on edge that her nerves would gnash at their presence. She found her fingers fidgeting and her pulse trembling as she stared at his creased face.

His eyes were steel and his brows knitted together. Suddenly, his fist punched the granite counter making her jump as he plopped onto the dining room table chair. Robin watched as Mr Bishop drank a noticeable amount of bevvy following their exit.

His eyes were swollen red as if he had been crying, yet no tears were shed in his stupor. Whipping around, his eyes locked on hers.

Straight away, Robin's eyes cast to a spot on the rug. It was an old habit. He bounded over to her, neither happy nor mad. On his face was grumpiness, plain old meanie grumpiness. She held her gaze on the fringes as his hand snaked up to touch her cheek. Flinching was another habit she couldn't evade as he began stroking the concealed bone. His free hand pulled her into his chest as he continued combing his fingers through her silky mane. His lower half pressed gently against her thigh. When she realised his motives, she snapped her head back with bugle eyes as wide as saucers.

"No! Don't touch me!" Robin's voice was loud, her words curt and concise.

His hand came all in a blur up until she saw it clearly targeting her face.

Whack! It took a second for the pain to register as she held her pulsing cheek. Trying to find balance, she stretched out her free arm, feeling like an amateur gymnast on the balance beam. She didn't fall, but her steps mocked that of a drunken patron after a long night at a pub.

"Don't you dare fucking talk to me like that again!" He snarled so low that he sounded like the Grim Reaper out to drag her into eternal darkness. "You hear, girl?" His teeth bore as he poked her sternum.

"I'm sorry," Robin squeaked, shying away. Her main objective was avoiding another reason for him to smack her. His fist was as wide as a bed slat as he raised it up in the position to slam down again. "Don't! I'm sorry!" Unheeded, his clenched knuckles jammed into her jaw with the force of raging bulls behind it. This time she flew to the floor. Clutching her chin, she allowed her brunette locks to fall on her face as she lay moaning on the hardwood. That had sent waves of pain through her teeth that tightened with the pressure.

"You just had to ruin it, didn't you? I was being nice, but nooo. You think you're too good for me? Think you're better than everyone else? Think you're somethin' special?" His words slurred together and his red eyes darkened to another shade of anger. Roughly ripping her shoulders from the angle they laid at, he flipped her onto her back as the heels of his palm sunk into her shoulder sockets. She winced at the pressure eager to dislocate the joints.

"No, I-I," She stammered, struggling to answer him. "Ugh!" Her body nearly lurched when his knuckles rammed into her rib, but his hands were adamant in keeping her shoulders pinned. The blow robbed her breath as she writhed to clutch the panging in her ribs.

"What is it? Just spit it out already!"

"I-I'm not. I mean uh. I-I-I."

"I-I-I," he mocked with a high-pitched tone. "God, you're so fuckin' pathetic." His eyes glowered at her disgrace. Yanking her up to stand with his hand clad on her neck, he roughly shoved her away.

Tumbling into the kitchen, she kept tripping backwards until her head banged the counter, forcing her body to crumble to the tiles. "Ahh!" She gasped as her hand flew to the back of her pounding head. Luckily, she found no trace of unwelcome moisture, but that only assuaged the portion of her mind where the desire to conceal any evidence of weakness lingered.

Ring! Ring! The phone blared, serving only to make Robin seize her head in a vain attempt to dodge the noise.

With a stern warning glare, Mr Bishop walked with a placid face past the girl cowering against the cabinets as if nothing had happened. "Who is this?" His domineering voice boomed. "Yeah...uh huh. Actually, she's not here right now. Oh no, she's fine, singing like a lark from the shower."

Robin's head almost whipped around, but she didn't want to ultimately make her head worse by a quick swerve.

"Yup...uh, actually we won't be here that day. ...I understand, but... Don't interrupt me!" He barked with a tinge of aggression, but his voice quelled as he added a weak, "please."

Robin's gaze travelled onto the landline, thankful for the interruption from his fire. She itched to escape from the kitchen, but she dared not move, her disquiet binding her to the cool salmon tiles. She listened intently to the conversation.

"Sorry, it's just I'd like to finish my sentence first. ...Well, I was saying," he sprinkled some sass, "it's my daughter's birthday this weekend, and I'd like to do something nice instead of prepping for a visit."

Robin almost growled where she sat. Liar, her eyes narrowed with scorn at how quickly he managed to roll off deceit.

"You understand, don't you?" His voice sweetened to a level so unthreatening Robin would have been fooled into believing he could lay a hand on anybody. "Yes, she's turning eight. ...I will!" He perked up fully thrusting an overly animated response into his reply, "Thank you very much, you're too kind!" Showering the person with compliments was always a finishing feature when people got what they wanted, she glared at his fake charm.

Robin's head swarmed trying to figure out who would be calling for her, it was long since anyone gave two flipping flippers about her. At the same time, her heart ached that whoever requested her presence fell for Mr Bishop's manipulative tongue.

"Uh, I think that'll work. ...Okay, sure. No problem. ...Yes, I'll see you in two weeks. Mmhm. Alright, have a good evening, goodbye."

Click. The phone dropped into the charging stand, and silence permeated the room. Neither one spoke as the intensity festered.

"It's-it's not Erin's birthday this weekend."

A low chuckle hummed as his shoulders shook. "Right you are." It didn't sit well with her that he turned from almost fool-proof liar to blatantly truthful within a matter of minutes. His reaction was lax to her accusation. "You're probably wondering who I was talking to, correct?" A stare of uncertainty returned his questioning eyes. "Awe, of course you are! Don't lie to me."

Lie? God forbid she be untruthful to someone. Suppressing the urge to retort, she slowly dipped her head.

"Well, that was Ms Hartman. The old prune wanted to check up on ya. Told her you were singing your heart out in the shower." His lips curled into the creepiest grin she's ever seen.

Robin swallowed, waiting for him to continue.

"She's coming in two weeks, so you best be on your top behaviour because I won't stand for any insinuations that I'm a bad guy."

She looked askance.

"Yeah, I have a damn good reputation 'round here, and I'll be damned to let a bitch like you bat your lashes and spread vile rumours about me," Mr Bishop seethed keeping his growl under his breath. "But, I also won't tolerate your lip either, so keep your goddamn mouth shut and you won't get hurt." The teen eyeballed him cautiously as he pushed past her, purposely jostling her on the way out. "Remember that, girl." His warning sent jolts of trepidation raking through her aching body. "I'll beat your ass if you so much as talk back. Don't think I won't."

All Robin could do was stare as he jumped onto the sofa and turned on the television. She wasn't chancing that he was fooling or that the threat was empty. It was a risk she didn't want to take. She had enough of being someone's punching bag, and she was hell bent on avoiding being his.

∞

Bedtime was odd without Erin there. She was barely gone a day, but Robin still felt emptiness. As she laid on her bed, she thought about Mr Bishop and how he reminded her of her father. That man and her father were more alike than she could imagine.

She stayed awake through the night, discovering quickly that the sandman forsook a visit. It didn't bother her though, sleepless nights were common, something she expected when her parents got in over their heads and released their tension on her.

It gave her time to think about what she did to set off Mr Bishop. Shaking her head, she wished she could go back and change how she reacted.

Not reacting would have been better. The thrumming pang in her ribs was viscous and made her stomach knot. If she had just stood still and ignored his "affections" she wouldn't have been hit.

He would have stopped before going too far, she predicted. Why wouldn't he? Her father was the same way when he fell into the hands of alcohol, and she understood why.

Robin looked akin to her mother in so many attributes. Having had her eyes, her hair, her body- just thinned over the years, and her vibrancy. The only thought that answered why her father would love her that way was because he mistook her for her mother. She hadn't complained, any love was better than none - even if it wasn't rightfully hers.

Down the hall, the door slammed, making her body tense. She listened for the squeak of the bed frame before easing her muscles.

A/N: I'm dedicating this chapter to TheWriterD and her story Behind My Reputation (Rewritten Version). It's a pretty swell story written in a male's perspective! I've recently got to know her through PM, and she's a really nice gal, funny too! Check her story out, she's on Wattpad a lot, like me! XD