Groaning, I move to sit back against the shed wall and shield my eyes at the small crack in the ceiling, allowing the sun to shine through.
Wes looks around the shed with a look of disgust on his face before turning his attention back to me. Great. Out of all of my brothers to find me, Wes would be the one. This is going to be fucking fun.
“Should I punch you now or later?”
“Whatever.”
“You have a lot of people looking for you Landon and here you are wasting everyone’s time by hiding away and consuming this shit,” he says, kicking an empty bottle of whiskey, the clinking of the bottle sounding like a firework going off in my head.
“Well, you found me. What do you want?” I say, my voice void of emotion.
“I want you to get your ass off the ground so I can kick it for making Mom and Logan cry.”
“No, thanks.”
My eyes close and suddenly, I am being lifted off the ground by my shirt and pinned against the wall.
“Open your eyes Landon.”
“Just punch me already, Wes. Can’t be worse than what I am feeling right now.” As the words leave my mouth, Wes’s fist meets my face and my head instantly screams in pain.
It takes a moment, but when my vision clears, I look into Wes’s eyes that mirror mine, but tell two different stories. He looks disgusted and I can’t disagree with him.
“Are you done wallowing yet, or do I need to hit you again?”
I shrug, and he hits me again.
“Fucking hell. Fine.”
Wes rolls his eyes and drops me to the ground, and I stumble as I try to catch my balance.
“You’re a fucking mess, Landon.”
“I know.”
“You need help.”
“No, I don’t.”
Punch.
“You need help.”
“No, I don’t!” I say, blood spewing from my mouth.
Punch.
“STOP!”
“You need help.”
“N-”
Punch.
This time I don’t get up. Instead, I crumble to the ground, all the pain and hurt coming to the surface.
“Talk. My fist may be tired, but my legs aren’t.”