Page 58 of Catch the Sun

Pain explodes behind my left temple.

Blood dribbles into my eye.

The back of my head slams against raw planks of wood as my own father tries to choke the life out of me.

I’m blindsided.

My father is feeble. I could easily overpower him. But my mind is a blur, my instincts caught between survival and love. Unconsciousness teases me, threatening to swallow me whole.

The room is dark now and I can hardly see the glazed eyes above me as he snarls and spits. “You monster,” Dad growls, squeezing harder. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

A light flickers on from the hallway. Footsteps pound against wood.

In my periphery, I see my brother appear in the doorway.

“Max! What the fuck…?” McKay charges forward, dropping to his knees beside us and reaching for Dad, yanking him up by the hair. “Get off him!”

The hands release me.

Hands belonging to my fucking father.

He’s not thinking clearly. He’s dreaming. He doesn’t know who I am.

I collapse with strained breaths, drawing one knee up and massaging my throat. I’m vaguely aware of McKay dragging our father across the floor as a trace of light from the hallway illuminates my own personal hell. I pull myselfup on my elbows as my head throbs, temple pulsing with agony.

Dad jolts with awareness and starts scrambling to the far wall the moment McKay lets him go. “What…what’s happening…?”

McKay is livid, a menacing shadow looming over a tormented man. “You almost murdered your own son. That’s what happened.”

“No, I–I would never…” Dad’s eyes widen through the dimly lit shadows as he shakes his head, scrubbing both hands over his haggard, whiskered face. “Maxwell.”

I’m shell-shocked. I can hardly catch my breath as blood continues to ooze down the side of my face. I swallow, my throat too bruised to form words.

I can’t be here.

A piercing panic stabs me and I need to get out. Run, flee. Never look back. Maybe McKay has been right all along. Maybe our father is truly beyond hope. I should start looking into programs and resources—not that we can afford anything, surviving solely on Dad’s disability checks and Supplemental Security Income. We have just enough to get by each month.

I haven’t gotten a job because I’m basically his full-time caregiver. With school and looking after him, I hardly have time for anything other than the small pockets of freedom I get while running or swimming—necessities that keep me sane and clearheaded, allowing my responsibilities to remain manageable.

Fuck.

I force myself up off the floor, rising to shaky legs. McKay is still vibrating with tension as he watches me stumble from the room.

“Max!” he calls after me. “Where the hell are you going?”

I don’t answer him. He can deal with Dad for once.

I can’t be here.

My balance is unsteady as I head to the foyer and look for my sneakers, my equilibrium teetering like a leaf clinging to a branch during a windstorm. I find a pair of shoes. Someone’s shoes. Untied and one size too small, they manage to carry me out the door and into the cool night.

I stagger across the front lawn with a bloody gash on my head.

Confused and heartbroken.

Shivering with no shirt.

And two minutes later, I’m knocking on Ella’s window.

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