It was a matter of weeks before Octavia and Clarke became friends again, but the actions of their fathers had stained their friendship. Abby only spoke to Marcus when absolutely necessary at work. Last night, the pair had performed a twelve hour surgery on a young woman, going the whole time barely looking at one another – and only speaking when monitoring the vitals and exchanging tools. Usually, they’d tell each stories about when they were growing up together, talk about their kids – which then led to how much things have changed since they were teenagers. They felt lonelier than they’d ever been.
“Jake,” Abby called as she opened the front door. This was the first time he hadn’t been home in weeks. Abby had no idea where he was, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was wash away the stress of her twelve hour shift at the hospital. She headed upstairs for a shower.
After her shower, Abby felt her eyes slowly closing as she sat at the edge of her bed. Only for the fact that her damp hair needed blow drying, she would’ve been asleep. When warm, dry and in her pyjamas, Abby popped her head around Clarke’s door to see Octavia and her daughter studying.
“Hey, girls. Everything okay?” Abby asked, her voice soft. The pair of teenagers nodded as they scribbled on paper.
“I’ll make some lasagne for you, and then I’ll head to bed. I’m shattered. Clarke if your dad isn’t home by ten, lock up.”
“Thank you, Mrs Griffin.” Octavia said. Shortly followed by Clarke’s:
“Okay, thanks, Mom.”
In just under an hour later, the three girls were sat around the table tucking into Abby’s food. If she wasn’t a surgeon, Abby would’ve made a fine chef, for sure. Each of them sat in near silence, only for the scraping of their forks on their plates breaking the quiet as they enjoyed the food.
Suddenly, the front door swung open, a bloody and staggering Jake entering, shouting something Abby couldn’t make out because he was slurring. It was clearly he had gotten drunk and was involved in a fight.
“Clarke, take Octavia home,” Abby demanded, standing up and attending to Jake. Neither of them had finished their food, but Clarke followed her moms order.
“Jake, what on Earth happened?!” Abby’s tone was sharp, expressing her concern as she grabbed his forearms. Jake pushed her away, consequently, sending her stumbling back into the glass cabinet. Clarke was pushing Octavia through the back exit and she heard the crash of the glass colliding with the lounge floor.
“Maybe I should tell my dad,” Octavia’s voice was shaky, her eyes wide.
“No, don’t do that,” Clarke said, “It won’t end well. My mom will handle it, she always does.” Octavia ignored her as she heard another smash and Abby’s voice shouting:
“I’m trying to help you! Stop, Jake!”
Octavia ran around the garden fence to her house, unlocking the door and shouting her fathers name.
“Dad?! Dad, wake up!”
She burst into his room, shaking him from his sleep. Marcus’ eyes shot open, knowing immediately that something was wrong.
Marcus swung his legs out of bed, shoving on a t-shirt and some jeans and followed Octavia as she ran back to the Griffin house.
Clarke was screaming at her dad, who had just knocked Abby to her knees. A searing pain shot up Abby’s body as the glass tore through her legs. Jake raised his fist again to his wife, her head hung downwards – flinching. Clarke’s face was soaked in tears as she watched helplessly. It had never been like this before. Abby only saw blackness when the felt something heavy and blunt hit her head. That’s when Marcus burst through the door, immediately tackling Jake to the floor, punching him again and again.
Marcus had been sat by Abby’s bed all night before her eyes finally opened. She heard the familiar sounds of bleeping machines and felt a burning itch on her hand as she looked down at her canula.
“Abby, it’s Marcus.” He stood, taking his hand in hers.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice dry and cracking. Then, she’d remembered. Before Marcus could reply, she sat up quickly, glancing around the hospital room.
“Hey, Abby. Take it easy. You don’t have to worry about Jake anymore,” Marcus reassured, giving her hand a small squeeze, “he’s gone.”