Give Me Strength by Kate McCarthy Page B

hung up. He was peeling himself off a shiny, black
motorcycle. Wearing faded jeans, a soft grey shirt, and a worn
brown leather jacket, his powerful body strode determinedly to my
front door. The blood in my veins boiled as he got closer, and my
cheeks heated all over again.
    Peeling the phone from my ear, I tossed it on
the kitchen counter and made my way to the door. Seeing my
movements, the young officer grabbed me from behind and hung on. I
squirmed against his firm grip.
    “It’s Travis at the door,” I explained.
    He ignored me as the older policeman gave him a
short nod and opened the door to the knock.
    Travis stalked through, his presence
overwhelming the small space. He ignored everything, his eyes
searching my face before taking the length of me in carefully until
he stood in front of me. Without moving his head, his eyes shifted
to the young officer behind me, staring him down until he let go.
Satisfied, Travis returned his eyes to mine.
    “You okay?”
    I managed a nod.
    “Good.”
    He took a step back, gaining distance, and I
felt the loss. Hating that the simple movement affected me like it
did, I said to the officers, “Thank you so much for your help
today. Please let me know if you find him.” I looked everywhere but
at Travis. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go and pack.”
    Leaving the room, muffled conversation followed
my retreating form. I blocked it out. I didn’t want to know what
they were telling Travis. He could charm the pants off anyone—I
knew that first hand—no doubt they were busy telling him anything
he asked.
    I dragged a suitcase from my wardrobe and set it
on the bed, opening the zipper. Returning again from the wardrobe,
I tossed in a pile of clothes. No more banging on the wall that
separated Lucy and I, yelling obscenities and laughing at each
other. I returned with another pile of clothes. No more Lucy
slipping over in her pyjamas to fight over the remote because Rick
was watching the footy on their television. I went back for an
armload of shoes. No more cooking for Lucy and running it next door
so she could pass it off to Rick as her own work. I tossed the
shoes in. Oh my God, I would even miss her Step Up movies.
Maybe. All of sudden it felt like I was losing her just like I’d
lost everything I’d ever cared about, which was stupid, but it
hurt. It fucking hurt.
    My eyes were burning when a tentative knock came
at the open doorway. “Quinn?”
    I rubbed angrily at an escaped tear, embarrassed
and sickened that Travis was seeing firsthand knowledge of what my
life was, is , like. From the abusive family to the tiny
townhouse with its stained linoleum floors, cheap furniture, and
aged bathroom that boasted a tacky shower curtain that stuck to
your bum whenever you tried to move.
    “I don’t know why you came, Travis, but
everything’s fine. You should get back to your family’s
barbecue.”
    I shoved at the clothes and shoes to make more
room in the suitcase and turned back towards the wardrobe.
    Travis walked into the room and sat down on the
edge of my bed. “Talk to me.”
    “No.”
    I came back with another armload of shoes to him
sitting there, elbows on his knees, staring at his linked hands. I
paused long enough for his eyes to find mine. He exhaled
audibly.
    “Quinn,” he began, and stopped, swiping a hand
across his jaw. “David, your…stepfather…the police say he assaulted
you a few years back?”
    The shoes tumbled out of my arms and scattered
on the floor.
    “Dammit,” I muttered. Crouching down, I reached
for them, and said, “I really can’t talk about this, okay? I’m sure
the police are out there doing…whatever it is they do, and
everything will get sorted out.” I scrambled for the last shoe and
once again holding the armload, tossed them in the suitcase.
    “Stop,” he barked out. “Just stop.”
    My intention was to ignore the order and keep
focused on my task, but he grabbed my arm before I could make
another move.
    “Do you