Page 81 of Redd

“No, Daniel, don't, no, please.” A loud smack rang out and I heard her yelp in pain.

Instinct kicked in, I didn't even have to think about it. There was still time to step in, I had seconds before he would strike her again.

Running down the hall, I busted through their bedroom door, coming to a stop. My eyes were open wide, lungs kicking inside my chest.

I could feel the rage building inside me. It bubbled and boiled, burning my flesh from inside the skin. I tried not to think about what I was feeling, if I did it made me sick.

It was the same rage I had seen in him, and I fucking hated myself for it. I hated that his blood flowed through my veins, feeding me life. I wished I could cut him out and be done with it already.

“You!” My father threw a finger in my face as thick veins pulsed in his neck. “You little fucking shit! What the hell have you been doing?” His fists clenched by his side as he turned to face me.

Shit.

I could see it in her eyes. He had found out what I had been doing. I wasn't sure how, but right then, that didn't matter.

My mother was cowering on the floor, a thin trickle of blood was coming down over her lip. Her left eye was dark purple, swelling shut. “Go, Redd, just go to your room. I can handle this.”

Letting out a deep chuckle, my father slowly twisted his head to look down on her. “You can handle this?” he asked, snarling like a wild animal. “You can handle this—” With one quick swoop, he lifted his foot and slammed it into her stomach. “Are you handling it now, huh?”

My mother rolled forward, grabbing her belly and groaning in pain. Coughing hard, she was desperately trying to catch her breath. She couldn't talk, she couldn't move, she couldn't even defend herself.

“Asshole!” screaming at the top of my lungs, I felt my insides tear to shreds. I was done with all this. It had been going on for long enough. “This has to stop!” Throwing my hands out, I shoved him in the back.

Instinctively I stepped back, holding up my hands. My face flickered between apologies for putting my hands on him and anger for what he was doing.

Turning his face back to me, my father took a long step in. “I know what you're doing. And if you think I'm not going to punish you for it, you're fucking stupid.”

“Dad—” I didn't have time to say another word. Running across the room, he grabbed my shoulders and threw me against the wall. My mother screamed again, holding one arm out to me and the other on her stomach.

There was nothing she could do.

His face was inches from mine, fingers digging into my shirt and holding me tight. “You're going to hell, Son, you know that? Stealing? That's a sin. Have I taught you nothing?”

Baring my teeth, I growled. “Isn't beating your wife and children a sin too? Where do you think that's going to get you?”

I couldn't hold it in anymore. Too much pain, too much suffering at his hands had finally brought me to my limit. Yes, I had turned into a thief. Yes, I had taken what wasn't mine.

But my family needed it. I did it for them, I did it so we could have a roof over our heads and food to eat. What had he ever done for us?

Nothing.

“Who are you to judge me?” Through clenched teeth, he curled one hand around my throat, turning the other into a fist. “I'll do what I want. Your mother, you kids—you're mine.I own you, I can do whatever the fuck I want to.” Pulling his fist back, he let it fly. “My eye will not spare, nor will I have pity!”

The punch hit me in the nose. I felt the bones as they broke into pieces and warm blood as it gushed down my face.

And he just kept hitting me, punch after punch. I couldn't stop him.

My fingers broke through the skin as I balled my fists. I wanted to hit him back, but for some reason I couldn't. There was something holding me, a force I could feel but couldn't see. It was like a rubber band was attached to my arms, keeping them pinned by my side.

No matter how much I tried to tug my arms free, the band would snap them back into place. I couldn't hit him. . . Because he was my father.

It was like his lessons were in charge, holding me stagnant. I was frozen, even though I wanted to tear his fucking throat out.

The room started to blur, and I began to fall in and out of consciousness. He wasn't stopping, his rage had been unleashed.

“You'll learn, you'll learn to respect me, to respect our home.” Brandy-scented breath spread over my face, turning my stomach. Pulling a switch blade from his back pocket, he swiped it across my neck. “And though they cry in my ears with a loud voice, I will not hear them.” Holding the knife high, I watched him change.

He was gone, willing to shed the blood of his child to keep control. The thought of losing his power, of us standing up to him, it turned him vile.

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