The next day, Saturday morning, Jack offered to drive me back to his father’s place. I accepted, though it was a gorgeous day out.
“Only if you leave the top down on the car,” I told him. I wanted to feel the summer air running through my hair as we sped along the road.
It wasn’t a long drive, and we quickly arrived at the estate. Jack slowed down the car, so it made as little noise as possible. I recognized that he didn’t want to make his presence known, and I didn’t say anything. After all, it was Saturday, there was a good chance his father was home.
“Thanks for the ride,” I told him, kissing him before I stepped out of the car.
“No problem Jules,” he answered. His phone rang but he ignored it, kissing me again before I got out and went into the house.
Letting myself in, as Anita usually had Saturdays off, I immediately heard yelling coming from inside the house. It was John, yelling.
Immediately my blood went cold. The high I’d been on for the last twenty four hours faded just like that as I ran into the sitting room just inside the hallway leading to the main living area. My mother was on the floor, crying, her hand to her face. John was standing on top of her, yelling about how he does so much for her, the least she could do is make sure his friends are taken care of when they arrive announced.
“What the FUCK is this?” I yelled. John turned to look at me. Then he looked at my mother, whose eyes were also on me, filled with a sadness I’d never seen. Sadness at the fact that I had to see this, or sadness at what her husband was doing to her? I wasn’t sure.
Suddenly, he came at me.
“No!” I screamed, grabbing a book, the only thing I could think of, off the table. It wouldn’t do much as an attack weapon, but maybe I could defend myself with it.
Before I had a chance, there was a blur to my side. Jack came between myself and his father, and immediately pummelled him in the face. Blood splattered all over me as his father’s nose broke, howling with a cry so anguished I’d never heard anything like it.
“Pick on someone who can fight back next time, you fucking asshole,” Jack growled at his father as he began punching him.
His father fell to the floor, and Jack kicked him in the ribs, hard. I heard another crack. There was no way Jack was going to stop, he was going to beat his father to death if I let him.
“Jack, no, stop!” I begged, “Stop, for me, please Jack.”
That seemed to calm him down somewhat.
“Why? The man was going to hit you. I’m putting him down, the way we do to animals.”
John Alcott Sr. was lying on the floor, whimpering with pain. A pool of blood was already forming near his face, the crimson stain slowly growing.
“You’ll be charged with murder, Jack. We won’t be able to be together.” I took his hands in mind, looked at his face. “This is the right thing to do. We’ll call an ambulance, and the police. He’ll be arrested. He’ll face justice.”
“You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me, you know?” Jack replied, taking out his phone. He dialled 999 and asked for an ambulance and the police to arrive.
My mother, meanwhile, was still sobbing on the floor. She hadn’t moved since the whole thing started.
Suddenly, John Alcott let out a loud groan. He clutched at his chest.
“Uggghhhhh,” he cried out.
“Is he having a heart attack?” I gasped.
“No! John, no!” my mom cried out suddenly, realizing her husband was in trouble.
Jack simply stared at his father, his expression like stone, as the father looked up at his son, his mouth forming noiseless words. I looked between the two, truly understanding the hatred Jack held for his father right in that moment.
“Go to hell,” Jack said, spitting on his father, then turning around and leaving the room.