My Girls

Hunter shifted his weight on the cold, unforgiving tiles; his legs were beginning to grow stiff and his back tight. Sitting on the floor of the bathroom under the artificial light was uncomfortable and kept highlighting the disgusting state of the grey ceramic, glistening with a layer of moisture and hosting clumps of damp lint. That damn woman couldn’t even keep a floor clean. A wayward splash from the bubble bath soaked into his pants. He didn’t bother flinching, let alone chastising the two culprits. Let the children play. Their squeals of delight and banging of cheap, plastic toys were, as intended, disguising the sobbing of their mother from down the hall.

They had fought. He had expected little different when he had entered the house. As much as he loved her, worshipped her even, she was being incredibly difficult. Hunter had hoped that she would listen to him, hear him out, understand his side of things. He shouldn’t have expected so much. Now he was sat there with a numb rear end doing his best to entertain the two kids, hoping that by the time they were done she would have calmed down enough to talk rationally. 

Watching the naked girls enjoy the simplicity of some warm water and companionship helped calm his own anger. They were still both so young; it seemed only yesterday he had been witness to toddlers, struggling to walk without help. Now here they were, just out of that phase and already old enough to bathe themselves, but not so grown up as to be jaded against their own imagination. The perfect age caught between innocence and maturity; their interactions replaced his frustrations with a gentle joy. The only down side to their increasing years was that they understood too much and as a result, were in need of his protection from their mother's current breakdown. Still, he found himself smiling at their antics and gradually he left behind the agitation that desperately clawed to keep hold of his mood.

Hunter sat there patiently allowing time to tick past, lost in his own musings and watching the girls smooth fingertips turn to furrowed trenches, until the muffled cries from the lounge began to fade. He was starting to consider if it was safe to depart the porcelain prison when he heard a familiar sound. He had spent enough time alone in this house to recognise those little clicks, bumps and scratches that identified different doors, switches or footsteps. This one, he knew to be the back door latch.

She couldn’t have left. 

It wasn’t possible. Would a mother walk out on her children like that after what amounted to no more than a misunderstanding? The sound of boots scuffing on the porch echoed inward.

No, she hadn’t left.

Someone was letting themselves in. Hunter raced through the possibilities in his mind of who it could be at this late hour; a parent, a friend, perhaps a neighbour? Her delayed but panicked, hoarse scream confirmed the fear he had not dared entertain.

“HELP!! Oh GOD, HELP! PLEASE!”

An intruder.

His mind jumped from one potential action to another, flying through scenarios of what he should do. Any anger remaining for his beloved drained in a second as determination to protect her consumed him. Within moments he had scoured every imagined scenario and decided to yank the plug from the bath; better the girls were cold than accidentally drowned while left alone. He told them to stay quiet and crept out of bathroom, ignoring their worried eyes and locking the door behind him. He cringed at the slight clunk of the barrel pushing into the door frame. Luckily, the hallway was dark, which gave him an edge. He crept along the pitch black passage, instinctively avoiding creaking floorboards and sidestepping the console table half way down, as he had done on many a late night exit. Detouring through the kitchen, he gently slid the largest knife from the block and tiptoed up to the lounge doorway. Glancing into the illuminated room from the darkness...he saw him. A man knelt before a single dining chair in the centre of the room, adjusting the cable ties around her wrists.

How dare he! How dare he come in here and interfere with the love of my life! Damn the consequences, I have the right to defend this home and he is going to PAY.

Hunter dared to spend a brief moment to focus, control his anger and prepare for what he was about to do. He was desperate to be the strongest version of himself, the one he envisaged while preparing for this situation in past day dreams. With a silent, deep breath, he launched himself into the light and toward the stranger.

The knife swung wide and only managed to slash its targets upper arm, mainly thanks to his adversary hearing the advance and beginning to turn in response. Hunter would have liked for that to be the only reason for the failure, but the truth was that he was a lover, not a fighter and so subconsciously would have done anything to avoid plunging a carving knife into an unsuspecting back. The sensation of flesh separating along the moving blade travelled through the metal and into his hand. Combined with the immediate reaction of the other man to plunge his shoulder into Hunters stomach meant his grip faltered and the weapon dropped to the ground. Before he knew it he was on his back and rolling to the side to escape the tackle. He rounded and regained his feet, swinging wildly at the invader, connecting blow after blow to the concert of screams from an audience of one. After a swift kick to the stranger’s stomach, which put some distance between them, he was able to see the state of the other man. Blood soaked into his buttoned shirt from the gash in his arm. The welts on his face, the split lip and bloodied nose all pointed to the fact that Hunter was winning. He was doing it! He was defending his girls! His opponent was swaying on his feet but it was evidently much harder in real life to knock someone out; the movies always made it look so easy. Adrenaline pumping through his body combined with the inevitable shock that was already taking over conjured the image in his mind of a cartoon character with a spinning star halo. He couldn’t stop the release of a maniacal sounding laugh to the thought of this man wearing the same crown when he hit him again.

Hunter slammed a fist into the other mans face again and again but he just. Would. Not. Sleep. He started to question if he was doing something wrong. All he could think to do was just keep hitting and eventually he would have to go still. As he pulled back his tired arm for another barrage…it unexpectedly froze in place. 

The pain did not come straight away. It was more of a feeling of cold, like brain freeze after a misjudged mouthful of ice cream, until his nerves caught up and communicated the agonising sting of metal against his ribs. He felt the pain intensify, yet at the same time release as the blade was withdrawn. The same cold, followed by wrenching pain repeated in a different spot. Then another and another. Until his legs gave way and he collapsed onto his side against the hard timber flooring.

Hunter’s heavy eyelids kept trying to close but he forced them open each time they dropped. He couldn’t understand what had happened. His mind kept trying to grasp an explanation but with one cheek pressed against the ground, all he cared about was keeping the face of his true love in view for as long as possible. He watched her drop to her knees, tears streaming down her face. The knife clattered to the floor, slipping from her bloodied hands. She took up the head of the other man, rested it on her knee and through the same sobs Hunter had tried to escape earlier that evening, said,

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I don’t know how he got in…you saved us. Thank goodness you came home early…I don’t know what he might have done.”

Hunter was confused. All he had wanted was for them to talk...to learn each others names. For his girls to love him as much as he had loved them, through all those years of watching. His only goal had been for them to finally, be a family. Why was that so bad?

After trying so hard to do right by them, now, exhausted, all he truly wanted was to close his eyes.