Freedom

CASSANDRA

Was there such a thing as destiny? I’ve often wondered about it. Were our lives really planned out from birth to our imminent death, or was it just purely coincidence and our own actions that determined our fate?

Decide for yourself. I still can’t.

But what happened three days ago was the turning point that changed my life, not just mine, but all of ours, even the people that I didn’t even know existed. All our lives changed as the result of one minor act of defiance. Well, alright, it wasn’t all that minor.

*****

“Hurry, Cassie! Before he wakes up.” The frantic woman screaming at me was my mother, Agnes Morelli, née Browne. She hurried from the kitchen, her heels rapping a tattoo over the tile floor. Two black bags in hand, she rushed upstairs, while I marveled at the blood pooling at my feet.

I stared down at the inert body of my stepfather with mixed emotions. “Are you sure he’s not dead?” Would it be a loss for humanity if he were? Certainly not.

The brass naked woman I hit him with lay to one side, her pedestal bloodstained. She didn’t break. Lucky for her.

“No, I checked. He’s still breathing.” Agnes shouted down at me from upstairs. I heard cupboards opening and shutting as she presumably grabbed clothing and fuck knows what.

 Where would we go? I guess I wasn’t thinking about it when I hit the bastard.

A few hours ago

He was late, as usual. Dinner was getting cold. She made his favorite: roast chicken and potatoes with vegetables. She was always trying to please Frank, but nothing we did ever pleased Frank. He always found something to belittle her or me.

“Let’s eat and you can go out, Cassie. You don’t have to stay until he comes home.” Mom said, dishing up for us.

“Are you sure, Mom? You know how he gets.” I voiced my concerns, positive he would come home drunk and argumentative. We’ve been through this before.

Why she stayed with him for seven years was beyond me. He was a real piece of work. I didn’t know my father who died before I was born, but I was sure that he wasn’t like Frank Morelli at all.

We were doing fine on our own until he came into our lives. Agnes had a good job, and I had the neighbors looking after me while she was at work at the restaurant. Life was perfect. Then he came and swept her off her feet.

What the hell was she thinking? Mom was pretty and kind, with chestnut brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. She had a delicate figure too for her age, even though she was pushing forty. She could have any man she wanted, but she settled for the scumbag Morelli. Ignoring the gossip going around Miami that he was into some shady business. Money was in no short supply. We didn’t want for anything. But it came at a price. He owned us.

For years I had been afraid of him, but as a teenager, that changed. I despised him. The older I got, the worse it got. Recently I began feeling antsy, like something was scratching at the surface, trying to get out. Every time I saw him, the resentment got stronger. The beast under the surface wanted to claw its way out, to tear out Frank Morelli’s throat. Maybe I should talk to Agnes about it, get some help. I would wake up in the middle of the night sure I heard someone calling my name. I thought it was because of the stress of cramming for mid-terms and Frank breathing down my neck. A night out would take the edge off.

I took my time changing into a tight-fitting black off-the-shoulder dress, did my make-up and left my wavy auburn hair loose. Slipping my stilettos on, I went downstairs to eat dinner with Agnes. I was on my way to the new club that opened in town where my girlfriends would meet up with me for a night of dancing and, hopefully, meeting someone nice.

We had just finished our dinner when he staggered into the kitchen, the smell of stale cigarettes and whiskey wafting towards us. It made my stomach churn with disgust.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, Cassandra?” His broad shoulders blocked the doorway as he scrutinized me from top to toe. “Dressed like a cheap slut!”

“I’m going out, Frank,” I told him and tried to push past him. I was no longer a child to be pushed around. His smell surrounded me, caged me in.

“Like hell you are! Get your ass back upstairs!” He shoved me, and I staggered, catching the side of the kitchen table to regain my balance. “Dressed like that, you’re going nowhere!” he sneered at me, dark eyes narrowed like that of a predator.

“The fuck Frank! You can’t tell me what to do!” I seethed with righteous anger. Fuck him, he was not my father. I pushed past him into the lounge. My car keys were on the bureau next to my clutch.

The plan was to get out of there before he could stop me. But then I heard Agnes stand up to him and I froze.

“Frank, let her go. She is seventeen years old. Stop treating her like a child,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

“Damn it…” I muttered, knowing what would come next. I couldn’t leave her alone with him. Not again.

I heard her yelp of pain and turned around to go back. He had her by the hair, pulling her along to the lounge. Her eyes teared up, but she dared not make a sound. Frank was tall, my mother’s petite frame dwarfed by him as he manhandled her.

“Don’t undermine me, Agnes!” he slurred the words. “While she’s living under my roof, she’ll do as I say, and I won’t take her disrespect!” With every word, he shook her like a dog with a toy.

The anger that welled up from the pit of my stomach was an acid of fire consuming everything in its path, seeing her helpless like that. “Hey, asshole! Leave my mother alone.” My shaking fingers curled around the nearest object, a brass statue of a naked woman. No more would I let him hurt my mother.

Dark eyes snapped to mine. He shoved Agnes away from him. She landed on the floor in a pitiful heap.

“Think you’re all grown-up now? You want to take me on, little girl?” Frank jeered; his face contorted into an ugly wolfish snarl. “Want to hit me?” He staggered towards me, goading me by beckoning to me. “C’mon then!”

Anger fueled my strength, and I lashed out. The statue caught him on the side of his head with a sickening crunch. He crashed to the marble floor like a felled redwood. I was vaguely aware of Agnes screaming. Bile threatened to rise in my throat, but by some miracle I didn’t throw up. The statue slid out of my hand, landing near his head.

****

At present

“Don’t just stand there, for God’s sake! He could wake up any moment.” Agnes shoved a bag into my hands. She grabbed the car keys and my clutch, carefully stepping over Frank’s still form. Her shoes made small red dots over the white marble floor as we made our way towards the front door.

Maybe it was shock, this out-of-body experience that I was having, like I was floating near the ceiling and staring down at this little drama. Or maybe it was just elation. I had stopped him from hurting Agnes and now we were making our escape.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I followed Agnes to my car, a bright yellow Honda E. I kept looking at the front door, expecting Frank to come charging at us. But he never did.

“As far as we can get. Do you have the pink slip for your car?” she asked as she dumped the bags into the boot before getting in behind the wheel.

“Yes, why?” I took the passenger seat as if in a trance.

“It’s too conspicuous and where we’re going, they don’t use electric cars.” I wasn’t used to this take-charge kind of behavior of hers. She was usually so timid, or maybe that was just how Frank made her appear.

She reversed the car out of the driveway, maneuvering it like a pro. I have never seen her drive, didn’t even know she had a license. Frank was always the one driving her around. He only got me the car because it was too much of a hassle driving me to and back from college.

****

Who was this woman, Agnes Morelli? She sold my car. It surprised me how easy it was to get rid of it and it surprised me even more that I didn’t even feel sad to see it go, although the car salesperson was a shark, giving us a lemon to replace my pristine Honda.

“Will this thing get us to where you’re taking us, Mom?” I had to voice my doubts.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she asked me for my cellphone. I handed it to her, and, to my utter horror, she threw it out of the window onto the freeway. I watched it bounce three times before it hit barriers and disintegrated.

“Mother! Why the fuck did you do that?!” I yelled.

“We’ll get burner phones. Wouldn’t want him to trace us, now, would we?” she gave me a Cheshire cat grin. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe we’re finally free of Frank Morelli!” she laughed.