Chapter Thirteen

                                    

                                          
Brad went from having a pleasant evening with his girl to having his happiness shattered by a surveillance video. What hurt him the most was Paige's keeping it a secret from him. He knew she thought she was protecting him but what it felt like was that she was protecting Steve. 
He was furious. With Steve, of course, but also with her. What was it about her that she could allow herself to be so manipulated by toxic men?  He couldn't understand. She had Andy and himself, who were ready, willing, and able to protect her...and she willingly stepped away from their protection.  She should have called the police, or him, not gotten in a vehicle with her ex who literally had his hands on her not even a week ago!
Once Brad felt he had gotten all the information he needed, he silently communicated to Andy that he needed her restrained so he could leave. It broke his heart a little to hear her screaming for him but he was too angry to care much. He left for Steve's in a cloud of fury. 
How DARE he?!, thought Brad. How fucking DARE HE come here and put his hands on her again?!? Again?!!
Brad checked that the pistol he kept in the truck was loaded. It was. He tucked it into his waistband as he drove. 
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Steve let Paige go then watched her run off in the rearview mirror. He punched his windshield two more times as hard as he could, spiderwebbing the glass even further. He had promised he wouldn't hurt her and then he watched himself do it again. He hadn't ever had issues with his temper before, but for some reason this situation was infuriating him beyond his control. 
He took several deep breaths then slowly turned the truck around. At the stop sign he could see her running back to Andy's, so he went right instead, and took the long way home. He was mentally preparing himself for a visit from the police soon. 
When he got home, he grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and put it on his hand. He sat down on the back porch, on the furniture she had bought for them, and started crying. 
Suddenly the rage hit him again.  He picked up the loveseat he was sitting on and threw it off the porch as hard as he could. The rest of the furniture followed suit. Then he went and got his axe and hacked at it all until he could barely lift his arms. 
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Brad pulled up to Steve's house and noted it was completely dark. It was after eleven, so it was very likely he could be sleeping, or not at home. He walked to the garage and peeked in. Steve's truck was there with the windshield all cracked to shit. Brad walked up the front porch, prepared to bang on the door until either Steve woke up, or he broke the door down, whichever came first. 
The front door was open with just the screen door in place. That wasn't like Steve. Brad suddenly got the feeling that something was off but he had no idea what. He opened the screen door and it squeaked slightly. He reached for the lightswitch right inside the door and flipped the entry and porch lights on. 
His breath caught as he looked around. It looked like the house had been vandalized. The staircase posts were cracked and several had been pulled off the railing right in front of him.  Dishes were smashed in the entry way. The living room to his left showed smashed and sliced furniture.  
Either Steve was robbed, or he did this, Brad mused. He took a couple steps toward the kitchen and could faintly see Steve's TV still mounted on the wall in the kitchen. 
Well, he wasn't robbed, Brad decided, pulling his gun out of his pants and glancing up the stairs before proceeding to the kitchen. If Steve had lost his mind, he had no idea what he would encounter.