Page 145 of Killer Kiss

I hated that deer. I hated it for being in the way and for making my dad angry.

I hated when he yelled.

The metal clanging and his shouting hurt my ears. I tucked my arms around my legs, wriggling away but not daring to go too far because he’d told me I had to help.

“Pass me that wrench,” he snapped.

I jumped up, staring at the pile of tools in front of me, but I couldn’t identify any of them. Fear trickled in, my hand hovering over them all, while I desperately tried to remember which one was which.

“Hurry up, kid!”

Closing my eyes and hoping for the best, I grabbed one and held it out to my dad. “Here you go.”

He took it without looking at it and went to fit to something beneath the car.

“What the hell is this? I said a wrench!”

A second later, the tool came hurtling back through the air, smashing into my shin bone.

Pain exploded through my leg, and a scream erupted from inside of me as I collapsed onto the grass. I howled into the late afternoon sun, no chance of holding back the tears that fell down my cheeks. I curled into a ball, clutching my leg, and sobbed in pain.

Dad didn’t care. “Shut up and pass me the actual fucking wrench. What’s wrong with you? Are you stupid?”

I couldn’t stop crying. It hurt so much. More than when I’d fallen off the monkey bars. More than when I’d sliced my finger on the sharp knife in the kitchen. More than when I broke my arm last summer.

I tried to reach for a different tool, but I couldn’t move. Every time I tried; pain splintered through my whole body. Darkness flickered at the corners of my eyes, and my stomach churned like I wanted to puke.

Dad slid out from beneath the car and sat up, his belly sticking out from underneath a dirty blue shirt. “Stop fucking crying.”

I couldn’t.

He sighed, leaning over and grabbing the tool he actually needed. “Go inside and cry to your mama, then. I don’t want to hear it. Fucking sissy.”

Relief poured through me, even though my leg throbbed so bad I couldn’t put weight on it. I crawled away, still crying but trying to keep it quiet enough he wouldn’t hear and get distracted.

The door to our house was such a long way away from the car though. I dragged myself through the long grass, hating how it made my bare arms and legs itchy. “Mommy,” I whispered beneath my breath. “I want my mommy.”

I shouldn’t have said it.

Even when I whispered, he always seemed to hear me.

Dad stormed across the yard, catching me by the back of my shirt and lifting me like I was a shopping bag. “I can’t stand your fucking sniveling, kid.”

The screen door crashed back against the wall, and Dad tossed me inside.

I landed hard on the kitchen floor at my mother’s feet.

In a heartbeat, she knelt, smoothing back my hair from my face. “What happened?” she whispered, running her soft hands all over me and stopping at my leg that had swollen up with a huge lump. “You’re hurt!”

“What happened?” Dad asked. “What happened is your son is a useless crybaby who needs to toughen the fuck up.” He moved around the kitchen, opening and slamming doors as my mom took me into her arms.

Instantly some of the pain went away. She hummed softly beneath her breath, holding me close.

I liked the sound of her heart beating, even though it was going really fast.

The pantry door slammed; Dad too angry to close it softly. “Why don’t we have any fucking food? I bought all that shit for you to bake with and none of it’s done!”

“I did bake,” Mom said quietly. “I baked a dozen cookies two days ago. You already ate them all.”

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