Page 126 of All In Good Time
He dropped it, and it thudded to the ground. He stared down, dazed.
Becca blinked through the dizziness and pushed away from the wall, reaching out to Derek and catching him by his shoulders.
God. His face was beaten so badly that large bruises already grew on his cheekbones and neck. But, somehow, he was still walking.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him. Tell him she loved him and that he didn’t deserve any of this.
But he knew that, and she didn’t have the time. Mark, though incapacitated for a moment, was still conscious and slowly pushing himself up off the ashy floor.
Desperately, Becca grabbed at Derek and pulled him as she made her way to the door. He continued to stare down. “Let’s go. We have to go,” she said.
He looked at her and blinked. A clearness filled his expression, and it was like it all clicked in his head. He followed her out, and away from his father.
* * *
Somewhere along the way, everything had started to feel unreal. Like his father wasn’t actually pounding his face over and over again. He couldn’t feel the pain. The adrenaline coursing through him was so potent that each blow only made it stronger.
And then Becca appeared, and it threw him off. He wasn’t sure what to do.
When she got hit, his patience and mind snapped, and he suddenly had enough energy to plow through the pain and disorientation.
He’d never fought back against his father—until he rammed that heavy ashtray into his head as hard as he could and then left the room with Becca.
It all felt too easy. His body still buzzed with the adrenaline.
Itwastoo easy.
He heard Mark’s steps coming from behind and turned just as the man who was supposed to be his father tackled him.
Mark’s hits were harder and faster than before.
Weakly, Derek’s hands pushed up, trying to get his father off of him, but Mark weighed a thousand pounds, and each second crushed Derek further.
He couldn’t see much, couldn’t feel much, but he could hear Becca yelling his name. It echoed in the back of his mind, like a beacon.
He opened his eyes.
The world cleared enough for him to make out Mark’s rage. He saw the punches hitting his own face, his chest, his neck. Relentlessly.
But then there was a falter in movement, a slowing, and then a pause.
Mark’s attention left him, and just for a moment, Becca was in view again. Her hands were on Mark, punching and scratching and pulling. Her mouth was open and screaming something Derek couldn’t make out.
A hollow pain echoed in his chest, seeing her there, fighting for him.
She shouldn’t be here. He’d wanted to keep her away from all this, and yet, she somehow was right back in the middle of it all.
Mark shoved, and then she was gone, falling out of Derek’s view once again. Somewhere. He had no idea if she was okay or not.
Derek exploded. A fury sent strength back into his muscles, The next second, he gained enough momentum to take control and flip the man. Now he was on top, and he had the advantage.
He threw his fists down on his father, who tried to cover his face—but it did nothing.
After all that, Derek thought he may never think straight again. But he’d never been more lucid in his life.
He fought like he’d never fought in his life. Every blow he sent, a piece of him went with it. He was not a child. Not a fucking punching back. He wasn’t anything his father said he was, and he was sick of believing he was.
“You’reweak,” he screamed in Mark’s face, hitting him to punctuate the insult. With each strike, a chain around him broke.
