Page 35 of Kings Don't Break
The moment feels surreal. My stomach pits and my fingers fumble for the locks. I wrench the door open to find myself opposite Korine and her mother, Ms. McKibbens.
But that’s not even the most shocking part about it—the face I’m looking at doesn’t belong to Korine. It’s a face that’s been beaten and bloodied.
8
BLAKE
“Kori.”
Her name leaves my lips as a broken sound. Nothing but a reflection of how I feel on the inside.
It’s a punch to the gut that knocks the air out of me. That’s got me so damn disturbed I can’t move a muscle.
This has to be a dream… a fucking nightmare…
Korine stands before me, battered and swollen, leaking blood on my doorstep. Bruises mar her beautiful face, along with the kind of cuts that only come from a hard collision with a fist. By the slouched way she’s standing, I’d bet other parts of her are just as damaged.
At her side is her mama, Sunny McKibbens. Otherwise known as the neighborhood’s mama back when we were kids. She was always fussing over us, cooking us food and making sure we all got home okay. In more recent times, as I understand it, Sunny’s fallen gravely ill.
Worry fills out her plump face, her misty eyes on me. “Please help my baby. I don’t know what to do.”
I shove aside the deep-rooted distress that’s paralyzed me. The disturbed kind of feeling that’s got me unable to even respond right away. The situation’s that jarring and fucked up.
Kori doesn’t have to tell me why she’s here. She doesn’t need to say a word. The shame and pain rolls off her in waves.
Don’t worry. You don’t gotta say it. I’ve got you.
I communicate this by reaching for her and pulling her inside. Sunny wobbles in after us, clutching their purses and coats like she’s uncertain what might be waiting for them inside my trailer.
I can’t blame her. They’re both clearly traumatized.
Kori flinches at my touch and she limps at my side as I walk her to the sofa. Her body feels delicate and tender, like it’s been put through the wringer. She whimpers in pain when I ease her down onto the cushion.
“You might need a doctor,” I say, almost disassociated from the moment. The shock keeps returning, making me question again and again if I’m asleep.
How the fuck could this happen?!
Korine shakes her head. “No doctor. No ER. No police.”
“Korine—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “I’ll… I’ll leave if you call them.”
I fall silent, though tension rises between us.
Korine just confirmed what I already knew deep down. I’ve just been battling the reality of it. But the shock begins fading for the inevitable reaction I’d have in a situation like this, where my girl turns up on my doorstep beaten black and blue.
Rage that’s blinding and destructive, consuming me whole. It pulses through me, every muscle in my body pulling tight. My hands itch for violence.
To cause the kind of suffering that Korine’s been put through—and so much worse.
It clenches in my jaw and spills onto my face. It reflects in the shine of Korine’s dark eyes.
“Blake,” she says. “Please…”
The pain in her voice hurts.
It fucking hurts my ears, my fucking heart. Her pain’s my pain.
