archery

(continued)

Ocean Park, WA

April 27th , 2020

Her mind couldn’t help going back to it, no matter how much she understood her parents and Aiden. The letter that had been slipped under her parents’ door still angered her and upset her more than she cared to let it.

“We’ll call the cops,” Aiden said calmly, holding the simple letter in his hands as he read it again. Mariah wanted to shake her head but refrained. It would be an admittance that she couldn’t handle this, that Aiden couldn’t handle it, and that they weren’t strong enough to deal with a prick like Clinton Morgan, a man that she’d had to work up the courage to divorce. The mere thought of what he’d done to her over the years was still hard to deal and at night it still managed to keep her up. But she wouldn’t give up on Aiden.

“The Long Beach cops aren’t going to be able to do much,” she said quietly, fuming inside, “Clinton’s a Marine, Aiden, he’s smart enough to pick his spots. They won’t be able to do anything.”

“They can put in a call to the military can’t they? Maybe the MP’s can come and sort this out.”

Mariah shook her head, “They don’t have that kind of jurisdiction, not here. I’ve checked.”

Aiden sat back, still reading the letter. It was short and to the point, telling them both what Clinton would do when they weren’t watching, and worse yet, it involved Richard. Aiden knew that Clinton wasn’t Richard’s father as Mariah had told him of how she’d gotten pregnant by one of Clinton’s waste of space friends before the two of them had met. The pathetic figure that had gotten her pregnant had disappeared off the map shortly after she and Clinton had hooked up, and he’d only been kind enough to the kid to appease her. Once Richard had been two years old the beatings had started.

“You should call the cops and have them arrest him,” her mother said from the kitchen, her voice carrying to where she and Aiden were sitting on the couch. Her father was currently outside tending the vegetable garden that had been kept on the side of the house since Mariah was little, no doubt picking a few fresh items for her mother to pickle. Her father could eat anything pickled it seemed.

“They wouldn’t know where to look mom,” Mariah called, “We don’t even know where he’s at.”

“I can’t believe all they could do was detain him,” Aiden said, “Even with an assault charge he should have been kept for a few nights in county at least, or even more honestly. I’ve seen guys get assault charges levied against them and been sentenced to a few months at the very least.”

Mariah just shook her head. It had been so long before now that she’d even heard from Clinton that she had no idea what he was even doing here, or why. The two of them had lived well off the peninsula in Portland, Oregon, and there was no reason to come find her other than to torment her like this, which he was doing far too well. The scariest part was that despite bringing him down here for a vacation every now and again she’d never shown him where her parents lived.

They hadn’t approved of him, and had bade her to never bring him over. That seemed harsh at the time, but eventually she’d understood. He’d never bothered to ask since he’d never gotten along with her parents and he didn’t care for the peninsula, having called it a shit-hole for dumbass tourists to waste their money in more than once. She’d bristled noticeably at his callous description of her home, but had said nothing, as it would have meant a good smack or possibly a punch to the jaw. He’d never been good at keeping his irritation in check, and she’d had plenty of bruises to prove it.

“We’ll figure out something,” Aiden said, crumpling the letter with both hands, “We won’t let this guy scare us any more.”

Mariah managed a smile as he looked at her, but as he got up to throw the letter away she couldn’t help but wonder what they could possibly do. She was already good and scared.

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