Broken Seed Read online

  I took it from her outstretched hand and thumbed through the blank pages. It was small enough to fit into my back pocket.

  “Carry this on you at all times, okay?” she ordered. “When you come home, don’t come straight to the house. Circle the block a few times first. Drive slow enough to see everything but not so slow you look suspicious yourself. Look for anyone watching the house or eyeing you. If you don’t know who someone is, keep driving by, but do not go home.

  “Call me immediately and go directly to the Golden 1 Credit Union and sit in the lobby and wait for me. They have security cameras and armed guards there, so you’ll be safe. You got that, Mel? Do not go home. You need to go to a public place with witnesses and security. So, keep your eyes out for work trucks or vans. People like plumbers, gardeners, or meter readers. Anyone you haven’t seen before.”

  “Elisabeth, you can’t expect for me to just—” I started to say, exasperated.

  “Can’t I? Melanie, I am the only person trying to protect you here! The police didn’t want to help, so you’re stuck with me. I need you to listen and do exactly as I say! You can’t fight me on this. I can’t lose you, Mel. I can’t!” she said. Her eyes had grown wild, panicked I would do exactly as I was trying to do, disregard her orders and not take them seriously.

  She closed her eyes and took in a big, shaky breath. When she opened her eyes again, she glared at me. For a moment I thought she’d kidnap me herself and lock me away thereby guaranteeing my absolute protection while she went off to find the people who wanted to hurt me.

  “Melanie, please trust me. Just do what I say! Please,” she implored. “This house is safe. Safer than you realize. Trust me on that. I need to hear you say it, Mel. Say it.”

  “What do you mean the house is safer than I realize? What does that—”

  “Stay here! And don’t even think about moving out to be all heroic! I need to hear you say it!” she said loudly, the strength in her commanding voice making me nervous.

  “Now, Liz, come on. I’m not going to walk around blind like some fool. But to restrict me to school and work is just—”

  Thunk!

  Elisabeth slammed her hand on the counter and made three quick steps to come around it and lean down into my face. She was five inches taller than me and had never used her height to intimidate me before. Her eyes blazed with anger and fear. I took an automatic step back, my eyes wide with surprise.

  “You will not go anywhere but work and school.” Elisabeth’s voice was low and sharp, each word smacking into my face with her unspoken threats. Threats to do what, I wasn’t sure anymore, and that was a first for me when it came to Elisabeth.

  I took one more step back and bumped into the stove. She came at me, matching my steps, her eyes locking onto mine, demanding I submit to her orders. She was formidable and powerful when she was aggressive, her martial arts training giving her a truly threatening advantage. I felt my stomach drop to my knees. She had never spoken this way to me before. Me, her best friend and soul sister. Her Melanie.

  “Say it,” she commanded me.

  I hesitated. I could hardly speak. I felt the hurt and tears begin to well up in my eyes. The logical part of my brain knew she was saying and doing these things out of love to protect me. She was trying to drill into me the importance of these instructions.

  “Say it!” she commanded again, her voice booming and her hand coming down on the counter next to us.

  Her eyes traced my face, and I saw my own reflection in her blazing eyes. I saw the face of a little girl, afraid and surprised, unsure and hesitant to speak, afraid to say the wrong thing and be punished for it.

  At the sight of my own past in her eyes, I felt the hot tears spill over and run down my face in betrayal. Her face shifted at the sight. It softened, growing concerned she had gone too far, and some of her anger drained from her face to leave her looking lost.

  I shoved past her and ran. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, barely able to see where I was going, blinded by the flood of tears and blinded by the rage and fright welling up within me.

  “Melanie!” she called after me.

  I hit my bedroom door with a crash and slammed it behind me, turning to lock it as soon as I was safe inside. I leaned against it, breathing hard.

  I’m not a little girl anymore. She isn’t my father. She isn’t!

  “She’s not my father,” I whispered through a strangled sob.

  I angrily wiped the tears away from my face, but more came in their place. I growled my frustration and buried my face in my hands.

  “Ah!” I snarled, furious with myself for being so weak, so easy to push back into the corner of my youth, defenseless and vulnerable. My heart was pounding, and my breathing was rapid. My body trembled with fearful expectation.

  “Melanie?” Elisabeth called through my door, her voice drip- ping with concern.

  “Go away! Leave me alone!” I bellowed. The anger and fear made my voice harsh and burdened.

  “Open the door, Mel. We need to finish this.” She jiggled the handle.

  Glad I had already locked it, I pressed myself harder against it and tried to count to ten to slow my breathing and regain control.

  “Melanie, please. This is important,” she said. Her voice had stiffened again to one of authority after hearing my harsh rejection.

  “Go away!” I screamed at her again, feeling for the first time a burning hatred for my closest friend.

  I walked deeper into the room and looked around, helpless. My legs were trembling with suppressed rage, and my fists were balled up, ready to hit something, anything. How could I be feeling this for her?

  “I’m coming in, Mel,” Elisabeth warned me through the door.

  “Do it and you’ll regret it,” I threatened, my voice shaking at the thought at having to follow through.

  I heard her foot hit the door right before it swung open with a crash and smacked into my nightstand, knocking the lamp off onto the floor. The bulb inside shattered into a thousand pieces. The door itself was split, the handle nearly busted off from the impact. The doorframe was also broken, and shards of wood had exploded across the room like shrapnel.

  “What the hell are you doing, Elisabeth? You could have hurt me!” I yelled.

  “No, I wouldn’t. I knew you had moved away from the door by the sound of your voice,” she said as she stepped inside the boundary of my room.

  Her coolness reignited my anger, which had momentarily evaporated at the sight of my door being nearly ripped from its hinges.

  “Get out of my room,” I snarled at her. My fists were clenched at my sides.

  Rather than leaving, however, she stepped a few more paces toward me. I tightened my fists, itching to punch her. I wanted so badly to strike her with all of my might. I saw her glance down at my fists for a microsecond and size up my body language.

  “I told you, you’d probably get angry with me for what I had to say,” she said cautiously.

  “I’m not mad at your stupid advice! I’m mad you think you can order me around and then threaten me—in my own house!” I bellowed. Spit flew out of my mouth in what normally would have been an embarrassing display of self-degradation, but I was too red with rage to care.

  “My advice is not stupid, Melanie. It’s supposed to help keep you alive and safe from the hands of those lunatics!” Elisabeth said with earnestness, and her voice carried a hint of her own returning frustration.

  “You broke my door, Elisabeth. You—broke my door! Who’s the lunatic?” I stepped toward her, propelled by fury.

  She didn’t step back as I had done automatically down in the kitchen, and I hated her all the more for it.

  “Look, Melanie—” she began, but this time I cut her off.

  “No! Shut up and get out!” I pointed past her toward what was once a strong, secure door.

  Elisabeth narrowed her eyes at me. “I am not going to leave here until you say it. Say it,” she said, her voice going low.
/>   “You are not my father or my mother! You can’t make me do anything. I won’t let you keep me locked up like he did! Now get out!” I spat the words at her, and I shoved her. She took a slight step back from the force. I knew she could have blocked me easily, but I was glad she hadn’t; I wanted to hurt her back.

  Her face blanched at the mention of my father. And I saw recognition click in her eyes.

  “Oh,” she said more softly. “I see.”

  “Great! You can see your way out of my room,” I said nastily and turned my back on her.

  I headed toward my window to look out at the neighborhood street below. All was quiet and calm outside. Old Mrs. Rasmussen across the street was shuffling her way back up her driveway, her paper in her hand, oblivious to the raging in our house nearby.

  I folded my arms over my chest and hugged myself. The tears had slowed but were still dribbling down my face. I wiped angrily at them again and lifted my chin.

  “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Melanie. And I’m sorry to have made you feel helpless or controlled,” Elisabeth said quietly.

  She came up and stood behind me, not so close as to cross the invisible line I had drawn around myself but close enough to show she found the point she was trying to make important enough to risk another of my outbursts or pathetic assaults.

  I said nothing. I fixed my eyes out the window, trying to bring everything back into perspective. She wasn’t my father. She wasn’t trying to hurt me like he did. She was trying to protect me, something he had never done.

  “I know you probably feel nothing but hate for me right now, and I can understand from your position why that would be. It hurts me to think of you hating me for even a second.” I heard her voice stagger with emotion. “I need to hear you say it, Melanie. Please say it,” she asked me, the essence of command lost in the hurt she felt at having to force me to do anything.

  I cleared my throat and answered, “I won’t go anywhere but work and school. I won’t move out and try to be heroic. I’ll keep record of any suspicious people I see, and I’ll call you if I am in any way unsure of the people or vehicles around me. I won’t go shopping unless I’m with you,” I said in a quiet, drone-like voice, resting my hands on both sides of the window to grip the frame.

  “Thank you, Mel. I mean it. Thank you. And please try once more to trust me on this. It’s for your own good,” she whispered.

  I turned around and looked at her. Her face was imploring, but she still fought to keep up her pretense of a stern, no-negotiation authority figure. I couldn’t say I wasn’t angry with her anymore, because I was. But it was turning into a twisted jumble of sour hurt and resentment that she could have ever talked that way to me and made me feel exactly as she had assessed—frightened, helpless, and controlled.

  “Work. School. Home. Right?” she drilled again.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” I answered blandly.

  “Okay.” She went to turn but then stepped back suddenly. “I almost forgot. Here.” She handed me a business card from her slack’s pocket. The new creases on her slacks showed evidence of her explosive kick.

  I took it and looked down at it. “Bradley Carter, PhD,” I read, confused.

  “Yes, this is Brad. You know Bradley Carter, my friend and colleague.” Elisabeth sounded relieved I had accepted the business card without slapping it away or any other irate response.

  “Yeah, I know Brad. What do I need his card for? He some sort of secret ninja?” I asked sarcastically, still confused.

  “If you can’t get a hold of me for any reason, call Brad. He’ll know what to do,” she said, pressing her lips together.

  I recognized the gesture. She had told me so many times pressing the lips together wasn’t only a sign of tension or anger but of holding back a secret from passing through the lips. She didn’t appear angry anymore—tense, yes, but not angry. She was holding something back. I could see it.

  “Why would Professor Bradley know what to do?” I poked, interested in what I’d picked up of her body language. Some of my anger was fizzling out and being replaced by a mild suspicion.

  “He’s a wise man and a friend I trust. I’ll let him know what’s going on so he can be prepared to assist should he need to step in,” she said carefully, dropping the authoritative stance and shifting to a more casual pose.

  “Right,” I said carefully, watching her closely. I knew Elisabeth did on the side consulting work with certain branches of the government. She had even hinted at having some kind of field work training, but never answered any of my direct questions. Was Professor Bradley into something similar?

  Hit by a sudden thought, I said, “You said the house was safer than I realized. What did you mean?” I asked her. I knew she brought some of her classified work home with her on rare occasions. Would such action be allowed if the house hadn’t passed some sort of security clearance? My brain was wandering off into dangerous territory, and I didn’t understand why these impressions where flooding into my mind. It was as if her secrets were whispering to me, illuminating themselves. Was it my imagination or part of having a “word of knowledge” from God, as Liz called it yesterday?

  “What?” she seemed surprised by the question and wet her lips.

  “How is this house safer than any other house?” I asked more pointedly, letting the disbelief fill my face and my voice.

  “In no particular way, I suppose.” She shrugged. “The house has a really sensitive alarm system. Mel, please set it, okay? You normally forget,” Elisabeth said, feigning normalcy. The answer sounded right, but I knew she was hiding something.

  “Fine, I’ll set it. But why else?” I pushed, crossing my arms.

  “Well, we both know every corner of it and are familiar with the sounds of this house. Anything out of order or any sounds breaking through the normal ambience will be recognizable to our ears. That’s all I meant,” she said calmly.

  It sounded logical, but there was something else. I could feel it. And finally, I could see it in her behavior. Elisabeth was usually the profiler of human body language. Was this how she saw those around her all the time? Catching all the visual cues and interpreting them as easily as spoken words?

  “Sure. I’ll call him if I can’t get a hold of you,” I added com- pliantly so she wouldn’t know I was reading more from her than what she wanted me to.

  Elisabeth’s face was a little taken aback at my sudden change of subject but accepted it without argument and relaxed in relief.

  “Good. I have to go. Now I am late for class.” A little smile traced her mouth at the memory of our playful exchange this morning.

  I didn’t say anything, and I kept my face void of expression as she tentatively approached me and drew me into a light hug. I left my arms wrapped around myself and didn’t relax into the hug or reciprocate. I was still too angry to give in to her kindness now.

  “I love you, Mel. Be careful, okay? Please come home after school and work tonight, and we’ll try to work out the rest of this. Again, I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispered into my hair and kissed the side of my head.

  She walked out of the room, having to step over chunks of exploded door as she did so. A moment later I heard her car start up in the garage, the large, metal door opening, and her car speeding away.

  Alone.

  I was alone at last. I sighed and ambled over to my bed, feeling drained and still slightly trembling. No major damage or debris lay on my bed surprisingly, only some small splinters of wood. The candle I had on my nightstand had been propelled across the room and was lying on its side underneath my desk chair.

  That could’ve hurt me, damn it!

  Ignoring the mess as best I could, I sunk down onto my bed and flopped onto my side, cradling my pillow close to my chest. I closed my eyes and felt fresh, hot tears come to my eyes. I willingly let them pour out until the strongest remnants of the hurt and anger were washed away, leaving only a bitter disappointment.

  A few moments later when I s
at back up, I felt empty and alone with the dull aching of hurt swelling and restricting with each beat of my heart.

  “Crap, I’m late now, too,” I said as I looked at my clock sitting on the edge of my nightstand, having nearly been knocked off like the lamp. I looked at my destroyed room.

  What a mess.

  I’d have to come home and clean it all up after my classes today. I’d be too tired to do it tonight when I got off work.

  I wanted nothing more than to pack my stuff up right this minute and leave for good. I had been threatened and terrorized my entire life. I wouldn’t live in this house if it was happening again!

  Elisabeth had been so adamant about me being safe with her here. This was the first time I hadn’t felt good in my own home since leaving my father’s house. Well, it was our home actually— Liz’s and mine. Had it all been an illusion or had the peace and happiness we had been real?

  You know it was real. She loves you. She wants to protect you. She’d never do anything to hurt you.

  I sniffed at the gentle words pressing upon my mind. “Yeah, maybe,” I said, sullenly.

  I had to get to class. We were starting a new chapter and lecture in philosophy today, and I had to be there. The teacher counted attendance as part of the grade and so far, I hadn’t missed a day.

  I went to the bathroom to rapidly wash my face off and brush my teeth again, not even glancing at myself in the mirror. I had seen enough of myself today looking back at me in Elisabeth’s eyes, and I didn’t want to see my own reflection anymore.

  I went downstairs and gathered my things from the kitchen. I looked around. It had lost something. It took me a moment to realize for me, in this moment, it had lost the welcoming atmosphere and the simple refuge of home. The disgust for having been made to feel something like this again in my own house brought my anger back in full force.

  “Damn it, Elisabeth,” I spat at the empty kitchen.

  I didn’t need this right now! I needed my best friend. Here I was on the verge of a breakthrough in my life, dealing with things so deeply buried within myself it was like looking for a single particle of light in a blackened ocean. I’d learned so much about myself the last couple of days, relived so many terrible memories, and finally recognized just how much they had affected me. Even running into Jill unexpectedly had opened my eyes in ways other than the danger she posed.