Stepbrother Soldier: A Forbidden Military Romance Novel (7 page)

I attribute the success of this move to his drunkenness, his surprise
at the sound of the door opening, and my own adrenaline. In any case, he fell
forward onto the floor, and I was freed. I felt like my skin was crawling with
a million bugs, and like I’d never feel clean again, but at least I was free. I
looked up: Ashton was standing in the doorway, his hands in fists.

“Ashton!” I cried, jumping up and running to him. He grabbed me,
pulling me in close as the Admiral struggled to his feet.

“
You
fucker! You fucking piece of shit son!
You get the fuck out of here! This is none of your business!” The Admiral was
screaming, rage on every inch of his face, and began to stumble towards us.
Ashton pushed me away and strode towards his father. With one sudden, swift blow,
the Admiral was on the floor, Ashton standing above him breathing heavily.
There was silence. I was wide-eyed, in shock. Slowly, Ashton turned to me.

“We need to leave now,” he said, his voice
monotone. I looked down at the Admiral’s body.

“I think…I think he’s out…do you….do you think he’s okay?” I
stammered, my thoughts trying to catch up to each other.

“I hope not,” Ashton said, walking back to me quickly. He grabbed my
wrist and pulled me away. I looked back at the figure on the floor as Ashton
swept me out the door. If Ashton hadn’t been there…if he hadn’t come…that body
would be doing unspeakable things to me at that moment.

Ashton pulled me through the door and across the front lawn. I
stumbled behind him, barely able to keep up as I began to sob and my body
seemed to forget how to walk. I knew shock by now, after having gone through it
with my mother, but this was different. I was physically drained, the
adrenaline seeping away and leaving only the desire to sleep behind.

“Where are we going?” I said, mindlessly speaking, as Ashton pushed me
into the passenger seat of his truck.

“Anywhere but here,” he said as he settled into the driver’s seat. He
paused for a moment, looking at me as I quaked and sobbed. Then, he leaned over
and gently pulled the seatbelt around me.

“How did…why did…he would have…if you hadn’t…”

“I should have taken you with me. I shouldn’t have left at all.
There’s a lot you don’t know about my dad, Christy. I saw how drunk he was at
the bar and I knew…with you alone in the house…fuck!” Ashton slammed his hands
against the steering wheel, shaking his head in fury. A moment later, we were
peeling away down the road toward town, going well above the speed limit.

“Are we…are we going…are…apartment?” I was past being able to make
words at that point. Way past. I was basically sleepwalking. My head hurt. I
wanted to sleep for a year. Each bump in the road hit me like a boulder rolling
down a hill.

“It’s not safe there. He knows where it is. He moved me there,
remember?” Ashton sounded agitated, and in my frazzled state I thought it was
my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I said, sniffling. He looked at me,
his eyes wide and sad.

“Don’t ever apologize. You didn’t do anything
wrong. That…that fucking prick…”

“Why…why isn’t your apartment safe?” I was becoming slightly more
aware at that point, at least aware enough to have questions about the things
Ashton was saying.

“You don’t know my dad like I do, Christy. He’ll find us. Wherever we
go, he’ll find us. You think he’s normal…he gets married…he’s a good
husband…it’s all an act, Christy. He’s a bad man. A very, very bad man. And we
won’t be safe until…” his voice trailed off, as though he didn’t know how to
end the sentence.

“Until the cops get him?” I asked. That was the first thing I’d thought
when my mind returned from its fractured state. We needed to call the cops.
Ashton looked at me. I was scared of the way he looked at me. It was almost as
scary as the Admiral’s face had been. But it was scary because he
looked…helpless.

“The cops won’t help us, Christy. They never do. This is Admiral Joe
Walsh. You don’t understand what that means…for us. No, we can’t go to the
cops. Military power runs deep,” Ashton said, his eyes returning to the road.

The sentience I had been displaying up to that point was, apparently,
just a brief return to sanity. As I looked out at the road unfurling before us,
letting Ashton’s words sink in, I felt my stomach turning again, sobs returning
to my throat. I closed my eyes, willing it all away.

When I woke up, we were crossing the border into
Nebraska.

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Part 2

9

As I opened my
eyes, still-half asleep, there was a sign: “Nebraska: The Good Life.”

My first thought was one I’d had before, many times; in fact, every
time I ever crossed the state line, I thought the same thing. It was almost
like a knee-jerk reaction in my brain.
We’re
not in Kansas anymore.

That would be the last normal, or at least emotionally neutral,
thought I’d have for a long time. It was followed, too quickly, by reality. Or,
what passed for reality at the time.

The Admiral. Ashton. Running to the pick-up. The taste of the
Admiral’s dirty, rotten, whiskey-soaked tongue in my mouth. My struggle under
his weight. His words, ringing in my ears still.
Bitch, whore, bitch, whore, bitch, whore.
My stomach dropped, then
flipped, then seemed to idle in a state of nausea.

None of that happened,
I thought, my brain trying to push the memories
down, someplace I couldn’t reach them.
It
happened, it happened to you, it happened.
I didn’t want to remember. I
didn’t want to forget. I wanted to stop existing. Each time I blinked, still
drawing my subconscious upwards from sleep, I could see the Admiral’s face,
feel his hands on me. I shivered and whimpered, my emotions taking me over as I
became fully awake.

It was daylight. I’d slept through the whole night. Ashton looked over
me as I shook my head. If it had been a normal morning, I’d have yawned and
stretched and let myself wake up slowly. In the pickup, there was no room to
stretch, and my mind was racing too much to yawn, and the longer I stayed in
that twilight stage between sleeping and waking the less I could depend on my
own brain to protect me from the memories. They were going to happen no matter
what, but at least if I was fully awake and alert I could try to control them a
little bit.

“Christy,” Ashton said, my name sounding strained coming out of his
mouth. “I almost wish you’d stayed asleep.”

“Me too,” I said, looking at him for a long moment. It was all so
surreal. I’d only just admitted to what I felt for him, had just lost my
virginity to him two days prior, and yet now, looking at him, it was almost
like I couldn’t recognize him. Too much had happened in that short time between
then and now. I was a different person. So, maybe, was he.

I let the minutes go by before I spoke again. I tried to figure out
what to say. This wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, a normal morning.
It wasn’t like I was going to say “good morning, how did you sleep?” or “did
you have any interesting dreams?” or “do you have any plans for the day?” It
was like having to re-learn how to be a human. Everything I wanted to say,
wanted to ask, was just beyond my reach, just beyond a limit I didn’t want to
cross just yet.

So I started with something easy.

“Where
are we going?”

“My aunt’s farm. She’s got a place up in Pilger. Nice place, and we
might be safe there for a little while,” Ashton said, eyes glued to the road,
knuckles white. I glanced at the speedometer. We weren’t just making time; we
were making
insane
time.

“Maybe we should slow down a little bit?” I said, motioning with my
eyes to the speedometer. He looked down and I saw his shoulders slump a little
bit, his body shift, as he took his foot off the pedal slightly. He looked at
me with a sheepish grin, but in a split second, it seemed, it was gone.

“I didn’t know you had an aunt,” I said. It was true: I’d never heard
of an aunt, either on the Admiral’s side or Ashton’s mother’s side.

“You wouldn’t have. She’s Dad’s sister and they don’t speak. Or, at
least, they haven’t spoken in years. I’ve been to her place before, though,
with my mother. A long time ago. It’s nice. We just…I need to get you safe,” he
said, turning his eyes back to the road.

“How far away is safe? I mean, you really think he’ll follow us this
long? And, I mean, he won’t even know where we’re going,” I offered. As much as
I liked the idea of being as far away from the Admiral as humanly possible, I
didn’t see why we shouldn’t feel safe enough with a whole state in between us.

“I don’t know. There’s no place that’s far enough away to consider
safe, I guess,” Ashton said with a sigh. If I wasn’t already shaken up enough
by everything that had happened, Ashton’s attitude was driving me towards full
panic mode.

“Ashton, how serious is this?” I asked, my voice dropping as I spoke.
I didn’t want to hear the answer. And once I saw the look in his eyes when he
glanced at me again, I
definitely
didn’t
want to hear the answer.

“Serious, Christy. I’m so…I’m so sorry,” he said through gritted
teeth. “My father…I thought maybe…well, I just thought he’d gotten old and that
all this would have passed…”

I didn’t say anything then, just waited for him to continue. When he
didn’t, I gave him more time. When five minutes had gone by, I realized that if
I wanted answers, I was going to dig them out myself.

“I need a little more than that, Ashton,” I said quietly. “I mean…I’m
involved in this now, too. In a big way.”

“I know. I know, and that’s what I’m so…mad about, I guess. And
worried about, too,” he said, shooting me a glance. “Listen…I don’t even know
how to start. I mean, I don’t want to throw my father under the bus, but
then…maybe he deserves it. I don’t know; he does. He does deserve it. But I’ve
kept this secret so long and…”

“He tried to rape me, Ashton,” I said, feeling my indignation and
pride flaring up. He was worried about protecting his father? When the girl
sitting right next to him had seen, first-hand, what kind of asshole the
Admiral really was?

“I know. And it’s not the first time. I mean, it’s not the first time
he’s been inappropriate with women. Back in his army days…he had a few recruits
who accused him of trying to use his power to…well, you can imagine,” Ashton
said, his shoulders slumping as he spoke, as though saying the words was
actually draining him.

I, in turn, was shocked. This had happened before, and no one had done
anything? How many times had it happened? And my mother had married him…she
probably never even knew…

“How could that be? How many girls? I mean, how can he be walking
around, free as a bird?” I said, even though I was starting to understand how
the last part could be true. I didn’t need Ashton to tell me about how the
military took care of its own; all those things were taken to military courts,
not civilian courts, and it was easier than anyone could imagine to sweep
accusations of sexual abuse under the carpet. It happened all the time, from
what I’d read on the subject.

“Well, you know, the Navy, it’s…it’s like the Catholic Church, you
know? I mean, what happens in the Navy stays in the Navy. In fact, a lot of
what happens in the Navy, for the record, never happened at all. I bet you
anything all the testimonies or complaints that might have existed have been
torched by now. That’s just…that’s just the way it is,” Ashton said, mirroring
my own thoughts.

“How many girls, Ashton,” I said, not posing it as a question but as a
demand. I needed to know. He hesitated, turning his hands around the wheel.

“Seven, at least. Seven that came forward. And a civilian, before
that,” he finally said. I wish someone had taken a picture of me in that
moment. I’m sure my look of shock was quite the Kodak moment.

“
Seven?
SEVEN? SEVEN GIRLS?
At least?
And…and nothing…” I said, my
mind skipping as I tried to process what he was telling me. Seven girls, and
those were only the ones who’d said anything. How many more…

“You’d know. Or, I’d know. I’d know when it was happening. He’d have
this…this look in his eye, for weeks beforehand. And then he’d come home one
night and just…be a different person. A violent person. Especially when he
didn’t get what he wanted. When he tried but they got away or did something
that stopped him, he’d come home and…well, you were better off dead at those
times.

When he got away with it, when he managed to get them…them…when he got
what he wanted, it’d be a little better, but still. For a week or so after,
it’d be hell in our house. It was like…it was like he kept this monster hidden
inside him, and he could control it, most of the time. But then he’d see a cute
new recruit and that was it. The monster was out.

My mother…she tried her best. She tried to leave once, after the
fourth girl. She tried to take me and leave him but he followed us. He followed
us four states, Christy. And he put her in the hospital. She said she fell down
the stairs. That’s what she said at the hospital. I was right there, and I
watched her just lie through her teeth…I wish I’d said something.

I wish I’d said something then. Maybe everything would have
stopped…but I didn’t. And I’ve lived with that my whole life. I could have said
something. Not just then, a lot of times. I could have said something when she
didn’t walk into a door, or when she didn’t trip over one of my toys, or when
she didn’t get into a fender bender, or when she didn’t accidentally smack
herself in the eye trying to open a jar.”

“What about my mom, Ashton? Did he do those things to my mom?” I
asked, wanting to be sympathetic but overwhelmed by the flood of images that
came to my mind: my mother with bruises, black eyes, casts…I’d never seen any
signs of physical abuse on her, but then I’d been away so much those last few
years…

“No, no, I don’t think so. That’s why I thought he was better. I
thought he got old and retired and calmed down and found a woman he wouldn’t
use as a punching bag. And he didn’t, Christy, as far as I know, he didn’t. And
maybe…I don’t know, I just know that when she was gone, you came home, and I
started seeing that look in his eye again.

And it scared me, but I didn’t know what to do. I tried to warn you
but…but instead I just left you. I just up and left you with him. I knew
exactly what the fuck he was going to do, and I left anyway. I’m so sorry,
Christy. For him. For me. For everything,” he said, his eyes red, his voice
rough and choked up.

“No, Ashton, it’s okay,” I said, knowing that nothing I could say
would actually make him feel better. As much as I loved and cared about him, he
was, kind of, right. He
should
have
said something. He
should
have said
something when he was younger, and he definitely should have said something
this time around. I mean, you couldn’t really blame a
kid
for not knowing the right thing to do, but he wasn’t a kid
anymore.

“It’s not, but thanks,” he said with a sigh. His knuckles weren’t so
white anymore. I thought that, maybe, by forcing him to talk about it, I’d
finally lifted some of the weight off his shoulders. And that, at least, I
could feel good about, even if everything else in the world felt awful.

I turned to watch the land go by out the window. Flat, flat, land.
Rows of corn giving way to ramshackle houses. Strips of trees so sparse you
could have cleared them in an hour. Big, lonely earth, and Ashton and I rolling
along it, both alone in our own ways.

I tried to swallow my feelings, but they kept leaping up my throat,
forcing me almost to tears. When Ashton had been speaking, I could at least
lose myself in the cadence of his words. Now, though, it was just me and my
thoughts. Thoughts of my mother, married to this horrible man who had seemed to
make her so happy. Had she been happy, though?

It sounds awful to say, and it feels awful to remember, but I know
that I was focusing so hard on my mother to keep away my memory of the Admiral
on top of me. I’d never been so helpless, so overcome, so…at the mercy of
someone else. I could still, if I close my eyes, feel his whiskey breath hot
against my neck. His voice snaking through my body like razor wire. The
pressure of his massive body against mine. The panic, the nausea, the fear.

Oh, the fear, that was the worst. Maybe. It’s hard to say what was the
worst. But that fear…it was like being a little kid again, and thinking that
someone could come into your house and steal you away and kill your parents. It
was the fear that one person could ruin you. That one miserable person could
take away everything you loved, everything you cared about. I felt the label
almost hovering around my head, oppressive and terrifying:
rape victim, rape victim, rape victim.

Except I wasn’t. I wasn’t a rape victim. An attempted rape victim,
maybe, but he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. He hadn’t gotten me. Ashton had
saved me. But if he had told me, sooner, it may never have gotten to that
point.