I’d be digging my own grave.
“Loud and fucking clear,sir,” I answered curtly, locking eyes with him, making sure he saw the hate burning in mine.
He nodded, seemingly satisfied that I’ve gotten the message.
Fine. I’d seethe. I’d simmer. I’d bide my time and wait for my moment to strike back. Because sooner or later, they’d fucking pay.
For Red.
Chapter 31
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Iwas sitting at the kitchen table, crayons spread out in front of me as I scribbled on a piece of paper, feeling the thrill of creating something from nothing. It was one of those rare moments of peace in our house—the kind you knew wouldn’t last. Mom was at the stove, humming a tune like everything was fine, the smell of her stew filling the air.
Then the front door slammed open. That calm? Gone. Instantly. My old man was back, and from the way his feet dragged and thudded, I knew he was wasted. Again.
I kept my head down, praying he wouldn’t notice me, but I wasn’t that lucky. He staggered into the kitchen, his eyes already scanning for something to fucking lash out at. His gaze locked onto me, hunched over my drawing.
“The fuck are you doing, boy?”he snarled, his voice a thunderclap in the otherwise silent room.
I looked up, my hand trembling around the crayon.
“I’m just drawing…”
“You think you’re a fucking artist now?”
I barely had time to react before he was on me. He knocked the crayons from the table, sent them flying across the room. I felt a hard grip on my shoulder, yanking me to my feet. I tried to stammer out an explanation, but he wasn’t listening. Nothing new.
“Drawing is for pussies,” he roared, grabbing the drawing and tearing it in half. “Real men don’t waste their time with that bullshit. You wanna be a man or a little bitch?”
My mom turned from the stove and rushed over, trying to defend me.
“Leave him alone, Frank,” she pleaded, stepping between us. “He’s just a kid!”
My father backhanded her across the face and she stumbled, hitting the counter hard.
“Stay the fuck out of this, woman,” he yelled, before turning his fury back on me.
“Don’t hit her!” I screamed, the words tearing from my throat.
Bad move. That only made him angrier. I was just a kid, and he was a monster. He grabbed me by the shirt, lifting me off the ground.
“You talking back to me, boy?”
His hand was already raised, and I flinched, knowing what was coming. The first blow caught me in the gut, crushing my ribs.
I gasped for air, but he wasn’t done. He threw me to the floor, kicking me in the ribs. Pain exploded like fireworks behind my eyelids, but I tried to crawl away, desperate to escape, knowing I didn’t stand a chance.
“You think you can defy me?” he sneered, kicking me hard. “You’re nothing but a weak, useless piece of shit. Just like your mother.”
I could barely breathe, the pain turning everything to static. My mom tried to crawl towards me, but he kicked her away, and she fell, sobbing.
“Stop! Please!” she screamed, but it only spurred him on.
“Shut your goddamn mouth, bitch!” he shouted, his hand lashing out and striking her across the face.
He hit her again, harder this time, and I saw her crumble to the floor. I tried to get up, to help her, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. The pain was too much, my ribs felt like they were on fire.