Page 118 of King of Pain
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as the memories come flooding back.
His voice was always the loudest in the house. Angry. Cruel. He never needed a reason to lash out, and when he did, it was a storm tearing through everything in its path.
I protected her as soon as my age and size made me able. Sometimes with my fists, but mostly, just with my presence.
That’s what haunts me relentlessly. My presence was nowhere to be found as my mother’s body lay lifeless at the bottom of the basement stairs. No, my presence wasn’t there when it mattered the most.
My father’s shadow has loomed over my life for as long as I can remember. His anger, his cruelty, his control—it all felt inescapable, like a chain we’d never break free of.
When I found out what he did to her, something in me snapped.
I couldn’t let him get away with it.
I wouldn’t.
I will remember the night I avenged my mother for the rest of my life. Without an ounce of remorse.
I found the bastard sitting in his overstuffed armchair, calm as ever, like he hadn’t just murdered my mother—on my birthday.
“What do you want, boy?” he’d sneered, voice dripping with disdain.
Those were his last words.
The man didn’t even have the decency to show regret in his eyes. Not when he saw me standing in his living room. Not even as the life drained from them with my hands wound like a vice around his throat, the chair tipped on its back.
When he was gone, I released his throat, let out a guttural scream, and punched his dead body until I could no longer lift my arms.
An hour later, as Murph and the cleanup crew hauled his body off, I felt nothing but relief.
But it came at a cost.
The kind of cost that forces you to leave everything behind.
I had to disappear, to hide in the shadows, waiting for the storm to settle.
I didn’t care.
Because I’d do it all again.
I’d watch the life drain from his eyes a thousand times over.
With a smile on my face.
The fire pops, pulling me back to the present and I stare into the fire, my mind racing.
I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again, if ever.
But I know one thing for sure.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.
For Ant.
For Ma.
For myself.
TRACK FORTY•THREE
