Page 15 of The Dirty Saint

“It’s Mom,” my youngest brother says on the other line. “She’s in the hospital.”

I curse under my breath, not wanting Ezra to hear me. Once I collect myself, I respond to my brother’s revelation.

“I’ll be there in a few,” I say, already on my way out.

“Manni just got here, but—”

I cut my brother off.

“Good. Give me several minutes.”

I pull into the hospital parking lot with my hands balled into fists so tight my knuckles have turned white. I make my way up to the room, a flurry of anger stirring inside me.

“What the hell happened,” I bark, stumbling into the small room.

“Joey, calm down. She’s fine,” my older brother Manni insists. “It was just a fall.”

I look at my mother, who’s lying in a hospital bed.

“It’s not just a fucking fall, Manni if she’s in the damn hospital. Did he do this?” I hiss, pointing to my father, who is sitting in the corner reading a paperback. “I want him out of here.”

“Joe—”

I walk up to my father, ripping his book from his grasp. He snarls at me and attempts to take it back, but I hold on as if the world depends on it.

“Did you hurt her, Dad,” I demand.

“No,” my father says. “Now give me back my book.”

I shake my head.

“Give me one good reason why should I believe any word that comes out of your fucking mouth?”

“Because it’s the truth, Joe,” my mother whispers. “Your father didn’t do anything to me.”

I twist my head to look at my mother, whose eyes are barely awake. I hide the pain in my chest at the sight of her.

I don’t buy it.

“Joe, you’re acting like a fucking two-year-old,” my father hisses.

At two years old, my father was already an abusive piece of shit. He used to yank me from my bed, and throw me to the ground, kicking me until something had either shattered, broken, popped, or cracked. He was an angry, bitter prick— and he still is.

My mother put up with it solely because she was fearful of his temper and, also, being the beauty she is, thought she had the power to fix what years of damage had done to him.

But me? I have hated my father from the very moment I entered this world.

And that hatred has woven itself until something unbreakable.

I grit my teeth, resting my fist at my side. I’m tempted to call security and get him escorted out of here, but I don’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

“I swear to god, if I find out that he did this to you, I will—”

“Nana?” I hear a little voice call out. “Nana, are you okay?”

I turn around to see my nephew and godson, David, standing in the hallway. A frightened look is sprawled across his face, and tears are welled up in his eyes. Manni runs over to him, scooping up the little boy in his arms.

“Nana is okay, honey. She’s just had a slight fall.” Manni kisses the tears off of his little boy’s cheeks. “Plus, your Nana’s tough, Davi. A fall isn’t going to do her in.”

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