Hailey's POV
Juan began to lift my dress, holding my head down against the counter. My cheek was pressed against the cold counter as I heard him fiddle with his belt one handed. Knowing he was distracted, I took the opportunity to find something to use as a weapon. I stretched my hand out, reaching for one of the many and heavy cast iron pans. The pressure with which he was pinning me lightened as he tried to undo his belt and zipper. Although the sound was haunting, his movement allowed me to grab a pan.
I didn't stop, wait, or even think. Using the pan, I struck him in the side of the head, making him stumble back as he lost his balance. I tried getting away again, but he grabbed my wrist before I could get it out of reach.
"You bitch!" He snapped, striking me across the face before he slammed me back against the counter.
I grabbed whatever I could, throwing it at him. Not only was I trying to keep him away, I was hoping to create enough noise to attract someone in here. There was no way I was going to get away from him with this twisted ankle. My only hope is to get someone in here to help me.
I was down to the last thing I could reach around me to throw when someone finally came through the doors. It wasn't just anyone, either. It was my Dad, who looked between us in complete shock. I began to worry about what he was thinking. Juan was his favorite chef, almost like a son-in-law to him already. Would he hear what I had to say and believe me? Or would he side with Juan and disregard me as being dramatic? Yes, he's my father, but he loves Juan enough to make me worry.
"What's going on here?" he asked, his voice loud and laced with anger. The kitchen was a mess, with me on the counter and various pots and pans scattered on the floor. There was broken glass as well on the plates I had managed to reach and throw. I had hoped one would break on his face, but alas, I do not have that kind of aim.
"I'm so sorry, sir. I was trying to help Hailey, but she was being proud. She fell over, toppling over some dishes and pots and pans." Juan lied so effortlessly that I wondered how many times he had done it before.
"That's not what happened." I shook my head, staring daggers at Juan.
"Hailey, you really should take people's help when offered to you. Now look, we have broken glass all over the place and pots everywhere." He shook his head as if he were disappointed in me.
"That's not what happened!" I yelled out, hearing my voice crack with emotion. Papi didn't know it, but he was hurting me deeply, taking the side of his favorite chef as my cheek stung with the evidence of what had been done.
"Then what happened?" he asked, his arms crossed as if he were annoyed at me. It was like a small child again, trying to explain the truth that I was certain no adult would believe. The words stuck in my throat, could I even say them?
"He was- I told him to stop, but he- " I fought to say the words, wanting desperately for my father to believe me. I dared not look up, knowing that Juan was watching me, too. It felt like I was gasping for air as I tried desperately to get the truth out. The feel of his hand was fresh on my breast, making me want to curl into a ball and cry. Something inside me felt like it was dying as I struggled to talk.
"Hailey, it's not like you're in trouble. You don't have to come up with some lie. Let's just help clean this up, okay, Nena?" I finally looked up at him, seeing the concerned look on his face as he noticed the tears I was fighting back.
"I told him to stop and he wouldn't. He kept going even after I told him no. He touched me when I didn't want him to, in a way I didn't ask for." It took everything in me to say the words without crumbling, but now they were out there. Words I could never take back, actions he could never erase.
Papi froze, staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed. For the briefest of seconds, I worried he wouldn't believe me. The thought of him thinking I was lying scared me the most. If my own father wouldn't believe me, who would? Papi's expression changed to pure fury, and I braced myself for the backlash of his words. I waited to hear his drawn-out lecture in his scolding voice. Yet, with the blink of an eye, he turned and punched Juan square in the jaw.
Never in my life had I seen Papi be violent. Not once, not even when a large man was yelling in his face and telling him to return to his country. He didn't resort to violence when his first restaurant was broken into and spray painted with racial slurs. My father stayed calm all through those times, telling us that if we were to lash back, we would only prove their point. He's always taught us to rise above and outwit those who wish to cause us harm. I guess this wasn't one of those instances for him.
Juan looked up at Papi from the floor in bewilderment. His thumb wiped at the blood as he realized my father had busted his lip. I watched, frozen in place, as Papi picked him up and quite literally threw him out the back door.
"Don't ever show your face here again! I take you in and trust you to care for my daughter and this is how you repay my kindness? Eres un desgraciado! {You're a disgrace.}"
"You can't be serious. It's because of me that you've been so successful! You can't-"
"No!" Papi cut him off quickly, standing tall as he flexed his muscles, hands in fists. "I have been successful due to my own hard work and that of my trusted workers. It is not you who has made my restaurant famous. It's the other way. My restaurant is the reason you have been successful. That's over now. You can kiss your career away. Now leave, antes que te despingo! {Before I kick your ass!}"
I watched as Juan scrambled to get up and walk off angrily. When Papi turned around, I couldn't stop my sobbing. The way his eyes stared at me, like I was now broken, made me feel worse. I didn't like this kind of attention, hating to be pitied. For whatever reason, I found myself hobbling away to the office, where I proceeded to lock myself away. Papi knocked, but I refused to open the door or say a word. Many minutes passed before I heard him calling someone, giving up on convincing me to open the door.
"I need your help," I heard him say. Who did he call?