Page 17 of Unexpected Hero

I crawl toward my bed to get away from him, but he’s yelling. I made him very mad again.

“Keep your ass in here and be quiet. No crying. You hear me?”

I nod, wiping my face so he doesn’t see my tears.

“Are you crying? I just told you not to cry!”

I shake my head no.

“That’s it. I’ll teach you to stop crying.”His heavy boots make loud noises as he moves around my room. He’s looking for something.

No. No.

He sees it. I didn’t protect him good enough.

He sees my stuffie’s tail. I didn’t hide him enough.

Now Daddy has him.

It’s my fault.

“Babies have dolls and stuffed animals. Are you a baby?” he screams and shakes my stuffie in front of my face.

I reach for it, but he yanks it away. “Does the little baby want his doll?”

My hands strain forward, trying to save it. “Yes. I want my dog! Please, Daddy!”

He gives it to me. But not in the good way.

Swinging his arm wildly, he bashes it into my face. Something hard on my stuffie bangs into my eye. It hurts worse than my knees.

And I cry and cry.

But Daddy laughs at me.

I can’t see through both eyes cause of the new pain. But with one eye, I see him leaving the room.

My stuffed dog is in his hand.

I jerk awake, bolting upright. My fists are in front of my face as a shield. Every fiber of my body is on high alert.My head whips around, swiveling from side to side for signs of danger.

But I’m only in my room. In bed.

My ribs and shoulders heave with violent, racing breaths. Blood rushes through my veins, thrumming loudly behind my ears.

It’s okay. Everything is fine. I’m in my room.

I’m safe. He’s not here. It was only a nightmare.

Air zips past my gritted teeth, hissing in and out with my deliberate breaths.

Once normal sensation returns, I take inventory of my body.My hair is matted to my sweaty forehead, and the sheets are soaked with perspiration. My entire body is burning up.

Dammit all to hell.

Haven’t had that dream in a while. A long while.

Fuck that psychiatrist for dredging up old shit that’s better left buried. Right alongside my father’s body. In a cold, dirty grave. No headstone. Not a single mourner.

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