Page 3 of Bake the Town Red

Bam.

A second punch lands between my ribs.

Fuck, that hurt.

Al hoots. He’s delighted when Ian’s blow sends me spiraling and crashing on the linoleum floor.

I close my eyes, clutching my stomach.

It’s just a punch. Just a punch.Ian’s given me dozens of those.And he’s right. They are better than Al’s. Al hits me twice as hard and then chases it with a kick to the same spot. The bastard.

Ian’s are better. In less than a year, he won’t have to punch me anymore.

“Dalí,” Ian whispers.

His breath flutters on my cheek. A balm on the spot that burns, burns, burns. Doesn’t matter that he doesn’t go at me as hard as fuckface Al. At six-foot-three—a foot and two inches over me—each punch from him hurts.

Ian taught me how to defend myself, but I won’t fend him off me. No fucking way. I’m supposed to save my survival skills for emergencies only. When Ian’s moonlighting as a busboy in a dodgy dive bar down the block. When Al might try to rape me.

One of these days, he would.

My eyes crack open. “Hey. I’m here.”

“I’m so sorry.” His hand is on my shoulder, chin wobbling.

Seeing my brother’s eyes redden is the most painful slap in the face. I’m mad beyond what’s humanly possible.

“I love you.” I bristle before sitting up on my knees, pointing a finger at Al. “You want to beat me up, you fuck?”

“Dahlia.” Ian grabs my shoulders, pulling me back down to the floor.

“Come get me.” My scream rattles the tiny apartment our parents left us. “Be a fucking man and come get me yourself!”

Ian’s pinning me to the floor, but before he can shut me up, I manage a, “You sick fucking fuck. I’ll fuck you up. I can take you, I can—Mmm. Mmm.”

“Good boy.” Al chuckles. His boots scuffle closer. They appear to my side. Old from years of use at his construction job. Dry mud covers them. Dried blood. My blood. “Shutting her up like that.”

My ears ring when Al connects the dirty boot to the side of my head. Right over my ear, missing it by an inch.

“Leave her alone,” Ian shouts.

My brother releases my mouth and falls to his forearms. He’s bracketing my body. Creates a human shield around me and locks me at the same time. Stopping me from doing something reckless.

“She’s down. I did what you wanted. Don’t hurt her.”

I wriggle beneath Ian, eager to get up. To give Al the fight I threatened him with.

“Ian.” My fingers find his hips, scratching it. “I’m stronger. You taught me how to fight. Let me.”

“What’s she whispering over there?” Our bodies shake. He kicked Ian. He fucking kicked my brother.

Ian turns his head up. “Go to hell.”

“No, you will.” Another kick. To my Ian.

“Fuck you!” I wail. “I’m going to murder you.”

Ian pins me with a raging glare, speaking in a hushed voice. “I’ll kill him first. Swear to fuck I will.”

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