Chapter 9 - Bad Kane 2

Chapter 9: Bad Kane 2

He moved closer to her but she shrunk closer to the kitchen cabinet further away from him.

"See what you made me do!" Kane yelled and moved closer to her.

"Stay away from me or I will call the cops, Kane" Naya yelled and ran for the landline a few inches away from her.

"No...No, sweetheart no...I am sorry, I am so sorry"

Naya saw the dark shadow in his eyes and she knew he would hurt her more if he could. But before she could dial 911, he took the phone and slammed it on the wall.

She ran for a cell phone but when she looked at him again, the shadow in his eyes were gone and he looked apologetic, maybe even close to tears.

"I am sorry. Please don't call the cops, having a record as a violent domestic abuser won't get me into police academy" He pleaded with her.

"Police academy?" Naya asked. She was trying hard not to think about the pain emanating from her back and abdomen.

"Yes....I am going to be a cop, babe"

After giving it much thought, Naya didn't want to ruin his future but she wasn't going to be with him anymore either.

"I need you to leave this apartment....now Kane, leave" Naya pointed to the door as she stood upright.

The pain in her abdomen and back shot up like fire. Naya recoiled. It detonated in her head with a blinding whiteness and it made her dizzy but she held her ground and willed herself to a fake calm.

"Get out Kane!" Naya reached for one of the knife as she saw Kane attempt to come closer to her.

When he saw her with the knife, he stopped and backed away from her with his hands up like he was surrendering.

"You better get the f*ck out of my apartment, before I redecorate your face with this knife" Naya had threatened him.

"Where do you want me to go?"

"I don't know but it sure beats having to spend some time in jail, which will happen if I call the cops" Naya told him.

Kane looked at her and took his Jacket and left.

Naya bolted the door as soon as he left. She lifted her crew neck sweatshirt as she stood in the full length mirror. She thought that with the force the punch had landed on her stomach that it would leave bruises but it didn't. But when she tried to press the area, the pain increased ten folds.

Naya decided if the pain persist she would have to go to the hospital the next day, she check the internet on how to treat a burn injury, anything other having to explain to someone how she got the injuries which would definitely happen if she went to the hospital.

Naya refused to be labeled a battered woman and a victim. She removed the sweatshirt she was wearing and allowed cool water from the shower to run down her back like the internet told her. She took painkillers and decided to eat cereal before concentrating on the books she had to turn in by the next school day.

Naya didn't know she was crying until she felt the tears drop on notebook. She quickly wiped the tears away. One thing she learnt from her time in the foster system was that letting people detect fear from her was invitation for constant trouble.

She had to appear brave and tough all the time; it was the only way to survive.

When she was done with her books she prepared for bed, she heard noises outside the door. She took the knife she was brandishing earlier on and opened the door.

Kane reeked of alcohol and he was snoring softly as she lay on the floor outside the apartment. He looked at peace and it was almost freezing outside. Naya had no zeal or the guts to wake him up and ask him to leave. She didn't want to face him either. She slammed the door and went back inside.

After an hour of tossing on her bed, she finally recognized she was worried about Kane and the possibility he would be a human Popsicle by morning. She placed a call to Kane's mother and without giving her many details about what transpired between them, asked her to pick up her son or not, it wasn't any of her business.

Just before Naya dosed off to sleep, she took the thick blanket in the wardrobe and spread it over Kane. She double bolted her door and went back to sleep, taking care not to allow anything touch her injured area.. That night she woke up sweating and short of breath, it was the first time she had her anxiety attack.