Chapter 53: Jona's POV

FIVE YEARS AGO No. No. No. He's beating her ... with a crowbar? No. No. No I saw them outside. I followed them the entire day. They were laughing. She showed him around her campus. She introduced him to a few of her friends when she ran into them. Then he said he would like to see where she lives. He said he wanted to make sure the place was safe and up to standard. She hesitated at first, but when he started to look disappointed, she agreed immediately. Mom said that man will never want anything good for her, but I was the one who told her she was wrong. I took pictures of the two of them so she could see that Charlotte has a dad who regrets hurting her and who wants to make things right. I hated the man after mom told me what he did to Charlotte, but after seeing him try to get to know his daughter and make amends with her, how could I not hate him just a little less? When I saw Charlotte smile like someone handed her the sun after he held her hand, how could I want to stop that? How could I stop her from holding hands with her dad when she has clearly been waiting her entire life to do that? They were spending quality time as father and daughter. She deserves that. That's what I told myself. One of us deserves to be an adult with a parent who loves them and whom they love in return. He said he wants to build a relationship with her. So why? Someone please tell me why my half-sister's father is beating her with a crowbar? I was running towards the bloody scene. I swear I was, but my legs seemed to slow down with every blow she took. She wasn't even screaming. For how long has he been beating her for her to stop screaming altogether? A bone is sticking out of her leg, she's curled into a ball that's nothing but blood and ... her hair ... he ripped out chunks of her hair. She looks like someone poured buckets and buckets of blood over her body. The entire floor is covered in blood as if someone tried mopping the floor with her blood. Someone pushed me from behind while I ran. I suddenly saw Nigel with a chair in hand before he crashed it against the tall man. Nigel's father is an army man. Maybe he's reacting faster because his father taught him things my dad didn't have a chance to teach me before he died. He's faster, taller and has many more muscles than me. I'm used to fighting battles with my words. I'm used to finding weaknesses in people's personalities, turning those weaknesses against them and turning their friends and family against them. That's why I'm so good at being a lawyer. Fighting physically was never my thing. I bent down to ... I don't know to do what ... to assess her injuries? There's so much blood. I'm stepping in blood. My hands are covered in blood. I can smell it in the air. I can see it flowing to every corner of her room like an unnatural river. Her own father is covered in so much blood. Nigel is stepping in her blood. We're all stepping in her blood like she isn't a person. I touched her and her limp arms fell from her head. There was no blood on her face. Her beautiful sun-kissed face was protected by her arms. I imagine she learned to protect herself like this from what she's been studying in her criminal law class. Her arms honestly look crushed beyond repair, but she still made sure to protect her head because no one can heal from a fractured scull or trauma to the brain. She knew that her head was one of the most important things to protect. She was curled in foetus position. She tried to protect her vital organs - her heart, lungs, kidney and liver. Even now, everything she's been learning kicked in so she could protect herself against her own father. So she could at least live. This girl wants to live. "Jona!" I heard Nigel's roar. "Jona, watch out!" I turned my head to find the same bloody crowbar that he used on her being swung my way. I ducked out of the way in time. I don't know how, but I ducked out of the way. I grabbed a hockey stick that was resting on a nearby wall and before I knew it, all my rage, all my grief and all my pain was swinging that hockey stick for me. I hit him in the head and he stumbled backwards. I threw another blow at him and then another and another and another and another, but the man refused to fall. How long did it take for Charlotte to fall? I kept swinging that hockey stick until the man ran out in the hallway ... laughing... He was laughing. I watched him run away, limping with blood all over his shirt, pants, his arms and face. He's covered in her blood like he was trying to bathe in it. And of course, he was still laughing. Someone should have heard her. She would have screamed and tried to run away. She would have tried to fight, but he ... he would have overpowered her. The man is probably 6ft4. He looks like he works out for hours each day and he had a f*****g crowbar ... he would have overpowered her. How could I let this happen? Brothers are supposed to protect their sisters. How could I let her down before we've even met officially? How the f**k could I let this happen? This is a university dorm for goodness sakes. There are always people around. Someone would have at least called the police or ran outside for help after hearing her scream for someone to help her. Someone should have been here ... I should have been here, but I wasn't. I thought they were patching things up. I've canvassed this entire dorm, but I decided to stay outside and give them some privacy. I was sure they had a lot to catch up on. I was sure they'd want to talk about things they didn't want another person eaves dropping on. I thought I was being a good big brother. I thought mom was wrong. I thought ... Why aren't there cameras in the hallway anymore? There are four cameras in this hallway. I know that. I saw those cameras myself, but now they're gone. And the students ... where are they? "Help!" I shouted as loud as I could. "Help!" Silence. There is absolutely no one else here. He planned this. He removed the cameras and somehow got this entire dorm to be empty and then he ... "I called 911." Nigel's thick Italian accent called out of her room. "Jona, I don't think she's going to make it." "She's going to make it!" I snapped at him. "I've been watching her, Nigel. She's strong. You carry her out of here. Someone outside will call the campus medics as soon as they see you. Make sure she gets to a hospital without delay." "What about you?" He asked while picking her up. "I'm taking pictures." I started taking pictures of her, the room, the blood, the chuncks of hair on the floor, the crowbar. I took pictures of everything while he tried his best to pick her up without hurting her. "I've dealt with the police before. They're incompetent even on their best days." He can't be working alone, right? How would he have gotten all the students out of here? How did he get the cameras removed? When did he have them removed? He hasn't been on this campus before today. I would have known if he had been here. Did he create an entire team dedicated to killing his own daughter? I took out one of the little bags mom insisted I carry around ever since coming to her campus. I put the chuncks of her hair, some blood, some ripped of nails and pieces of her clothes and skin in the bags. Then I went outside in the hallway and took pictures because there are supposed to be f*****g cameras here. I took pictures of his bloody shoe prints, the ones he left behind while he was running and laughing. Was it a fit of rage? Did he just snap? No. Everything indicates to this being planned. He planned to kill his own daughter. I ran outside once I was done and found paramedics already putting her on a stretcher. People were gathered around her and Nigel. Some people were taking pictures of the bloodied girl and some were understandably horrified while a few people were choosing to look away or just cry. A place that was nearly empty a few minutes ago, was now filled with students from every corner of this school. "You're crying." Nigel grabbed my shoulder before I got inside the ambulance. The last time I cried was when dad died. I've been thrown in and out of homes, I've been beaten to a pulp, I've been treated like an outsider because I do not act the way others do ... but none of that was enough to make me cry. However, now, knowing that I'm the reason my sister might die ... no amount of tears will ever be enough for failing her like this. "I'll follow you guys with my car." He added before I could think of a response and then we left. . . . What followed was the longest car ride of my life. At times it looked like the paramedics weren't sure of what they were doing. There was blood everywhere and she was unresponsive. I wanted to hold her hand. I wanted to tell her she has to live. I wanted to tell her this is all my fault. I wanted to tell her if I weren't so stupid, none of this would have happened. But I couldn't do any of that. The paramedics were trying to save her life. So, I watched as they scrambled to stop the bleeding, the hemorrhaging and all the other medical terms they threw around that I could not focus on. She has to live. I've followed this girl for two weeks. She's kind, smart, confident and so loved and admired by everyone she comes across. There's absolutely nothing she can't do. She's so persistent and determined that it makes everyone gravitate towards her. Someone like her shouldn't die before her life has even started. . . . "Sir, you need to get out of the way so I can do my job!" One of the doctors yelled at me. "The nurses will come tell you how things are going." I let them push me out of the way and take her away. I turned around in the large, white hospital hall. There were multiple people running around, but I've never felt so alone, so helpess, so useless, so cold, so disappointed. I've never been disappointed in myself, but today ... I'm so utterly disappointed in myself that I want to die. "Come here." Two strong arms suddenly embraced me. "She'll be okay, Jona. We have to hope for the best. We can't give up on her." I cried once my head hit his chest. I just cried and cried and cried until I felt like all the life had drained out of me. "It's okay." His arms wrapped around me even tighter. "She'll be okay." His own voice cracked. "You'll see." . . . We waited for updates on her for hours. We stayed in the waiting area in our blood soaked clothes and it was only when the police gave us shocked expressions that we both realised how we must look. "Let me ask you two something", one of the two police officers continued chewing his gum and writing in his notepad, "do you two enjoy making up lies? You enjoy wasting taxpayers money by telling tales to the police?" Nigel and I looked at one another. Who would make up such a thing? We told them everything. They must have spoken to one of her doctors. They're looking at our clothes. We're covered in blood. Why would they think we're lying when she's fighting for her life as we speak? "We went to her dorm room." The second officer didn't bother hiding his annoyance. "There's no blood, no chuncks of hair as you two described or even a sign of struggle. That room is as clean as a whistle." "No." Nigel almost grabbed one of them by the collar. "We saw him. We even-" "No." I stopped him before he could tell them we even took pictures. I should have known by how ready they were to dismiss us and how they kept smirking while we told them what happened, that they're not here to help us or her. Someone has already bribed them. They're here to make sure this case doesn't see the light of day. "It's not worthit, Nigel." I pulled him away. "The police aren't going to do anything, are they?" They both shrugged. "As far as we can tell", one of them fixed the belt under his beer gut, "your friend fell down a flight of stairs. We spoke to the doctors and they confirmed as much. Her injuries are consistent with those of someone who just had an accident. No need to make up elaborate lies." Their little notepads were already closed and put away. They weren't going to investigate. They're not going to do anything. "Her doctors saw her covered head to toe in blood and with bones sticking out of her body!" Nigel roared at them. "If they told you she fell down a flight of stairs, then they lied! You have two witnesses infront of you who are telling you she was beaten to a pulp. Ask the students who saw her when the paramedics took her. f**k! Ask the paramedics themselves. Anyone will tell you that's not what you look like after falling down a few stairs!" They both rolled their eyes. "The students say she looked hurt and so do the paramedics. They're not being as dramatic as the two of you." The man spit out his gum right on the floor. "This is an open and shut case, boys. Stop wasting our time." They tried walking away, but Nigel grabbed one of them and yanked my phone out of my pocket. I know he thinks I'm giving up too quickly, but I grew up with cops watching me get beaten and turn a blind eye. I've been to the hospital plenty of times and each time an officer was supposed to come investigate, the case was open and shut before I could utter a word. Being a lawyer only confirmed all those things I believed as a kid. Cops, doctors, social workers, Foster parents ... none of them care unless there's something in it for them or if their livelihood is on the line. "Look at this!" He roared at them and shoved my phone in their faces. "We took pictures. Look at her room. Look at HER. She didn't fall down a flight of stairs." "This is obviously photoshopped." They kept sliding through the pictures. "You kids do all kinds of things with technology nowadays. This is fake." Nigel was roaring at them. Tears were streaming down his own face while he shouted at them, but they were unmoved by his pleas. I wanted to fall to the ground. She deserves better than this. She deserves a brother who will fight for her, but I have no strength left in me. I have no fight in me. I keep seeing all that blood. I keep seeing that crowbar. I keep hearing his laugh. I just can't fight right now. "Shouldn't you at least talk to her?" Nigel screamed again when they still insisted we're making all of this up. "Before you close the case, you should at least wait and hear what she has to say!" "Look, son", one of the men sighed, "this is New Jersey. We have a whole lot of work to do. We can't be running around chasing your little friend. She might not even make it out of the hospital." All the blood drained from Nigel's face. He was too stunned to speak. She might not even make it out of the hospital. That's what he said. It was only then that Nigel finally understood something I learned a very long time ago - no one is going to help us. We're on our own. AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you like this book, please leave a review of some sorts in Chapter 1 encouraging others to read it. Maybe that way I can get more readers!!