Back to square one

“Dad, I need your help”
Five short words Helen had said down the phone late one January night, tearful and sounding scared. Five short words off the back of many more between her and Mark. Many more angry, shouted words, words that cut and hurt.
Dave had driven over that same day, and they loaded as much of her possessions into the car boot as they could. She slept the entire ride home, and Dave had to carry Helen into the house when they got back. She lay on  the sofa covered in an old blanket.
“Didn’t say a thing” he quietly told his wife Jill as they glumly stacked the boxes and bags in Helens old bedroom.
Helen barely felt like talking over the rest of that week. She stayed on her bed, staring at the walls, her phone vibrating every few minutes, missed calls racking up. Mark called the landline, and this time Jill deflected him, holding her anger in check to politely say Helen was out for a run, or at the shops with her father. Helen could hear the excuses being made, and curled up a little tighter on her bed, clutching her knees to her chest. 
The boxes of her possessions stayed un-opened, joining the few boxes of childhood memories left in the room. For a couple of days she stared, eyes flitting between the new and the old faded boxes. There was no way she wanted to see the remains of her married life right now. The infidelity was still too raw, even the thought of kitchen utensils making Helen feel physically sick.
Jill brought her endless cups of tea, strong and hot, more sugar than Helen now took. The extra sweetness gave her headaches, pain behind her eyeballs that didnt shift. However this distracted from her mind, so Helen kept drinking the tea, breathlessly thanking her mum in a silent, barely audible voice every time she came into the room.
Dave hovered around, not sure what to say. Each time Jill walked out the door, he looked at her quizzically, head tilted to one side, mutely asking what he should do. His wife shook her head, and gazed at the floor, neither one able to articulate what their daughter was experiencing in ways the other could relate to.
After a week, Helen made the bold decision to take a shower. Her old bedroom needed airing, and the sheets needed changing. A pile of mugs sat under the bedside table, a bowl of untouched carrot sticks slowly turning soft. Mark had now stopped trying to talk to his wife, a short conversation with Dave on the landline leaving him in no uncertain terms that he needed to wait. And that he needed to really think his life through, and buck up his ideas mister.
The hot water was a shock, and Helen could feel the grime run off her body. Her long brown tangled hair slowly started to separate with the help of shampoo, and Helen held her face under the head letting the jets cover her mouth, not able to breathe, yet still feeling alive with the sensation.
Drying off, she was gentle on her arms and torso, the bruises shockingly still large and angry. Yellow and black on her tricep where the finger marks could still be seen. Red and black across her kidneys, a mess of broken blood vessels. Helen hurriedly dressed in fresh pyjamas, and dropped her towel outside the bedroom door, back to lying on her bed staring at the boxes.
That night Dave looked in at her, mug of tea and two biscuits in hand. 
“Can I come in?” he asked, staying outside until his daughter answered.
Helen nodded, and he entered, setting the mug and plate down by the bedside, and sitting down on the wooden chair by her desk.
Dave looked round slowly, now unsure what to say. Pictures still stuck to the walls showed the three of them on family holidays, Helen with long unkempt hair as she ran out of the sea in the main image. Another showed her sat across a camping table from Dave in a caravan awning, a chess set mid game between them.
“D’you remember how we played chess whenever it rained on that trip?” he said, “And it rained alot”
Helen sat up to look, and slightly laughed, wiping her eyes.
“You know at first I let you win, but at the end I couldnt stop you” he grinned, “Always a hard lesson for a Dad to be finally beaten by their child. Still, been a long time. I’d best leave you be”
He sat up to go, but Helen reached for his hand.
“Dont” she quietly said, and Dave sat back down.
“We could play again sometime, if you want of course. Did you play with Ma…” Dave stopped just too late, realising what he had been about to say.
His daughter stiffened before the moment passed.
“I’d like that” she replied.
“Good. Cant play with your mother, she forgets each of the moves. Bloody useless”
Helen laughed again, the sound of an angel to Daves ears.
“I can dig out my set. It must be around somewhere”
Another silence passed as Dave looked round the room. The remains of her life was stacked up, and it didnt seem to take up much space. It had all come back to the room she had grown up in, as though sucked back to the start.
“Dont let your tea go cold” he said, “You always hated cold tea”
Helen reached over and picked up the mug, holding it to her lips.
“Why Dad?” she said quietly. “Why?”
Helen started to sob, gently at first, then more violently, great snotty rivers falling down her face.
Dave grabbed the mug, and held her tight, not sure what to do with his daughter who was now shaking and gasping for breath.
“I thought he loved me Dad, I was so happy. Why, why did he?”
“I dont know pet, I just dont know”
Helen buried her face in Daves chest, wiping the tears away on his shirt.
“I loved him”
Her dads arms tightened and drew Helen in closer, stifling the sobbing noises from her throat.
“I know, I know. We’re here for you pet”
Helen pulled away from Dave, and looked him in the eye, wiping away the tear stains from her cheek with the sleeve of her jumper. Silently, she pulled the sleeve up, showing her dad the yellow and black bruising on her arm. Her eye contact didnt stop.
At first Dave didnt see, but then went white as a sheet. He again pulled her to him, as she started bawling out.
“We’ll fix this Helen, we’ll fix this. No one messes with my baby”
As he held her, Dave could feel Helens body relax, the relief of having opened up hitting her. The tenseness fell away, and she started to breath a little shallower. Pretty soon, his daughter was asleep, and Dav threw a blanket over her.
Jill was stood outside the door as he turned off the light.
“We need to talk” were the only words Dave said, heading to the kitchen with the dirty mug and plate.