Page 319 of Vicious Saint
“Yes!”
“No!” Theory pushes my chest, but since she’s tiny I barely move. “I hate you, I hate you!”
I try telling myself Theory only acts like this when she’s missing our mom, or when our dad is busy with work, and all she needs is a little attention to get back to sweet and innocent.
But her attitude has been nonstop since this morning when she yelled at Darla, our housekeeper, for giving her apple juice instead of orange juice.
“If you chill the heck out, I’ll let you play a round of Madden with us, okay?”
“I don’t wanna play a stupid football game.”
Oh, the heck with this.
Jumping to my feet, I order her with my best stern voice to get up.
“No.” Theory turns her back to me, squeezing her favorite Doc McStuffins doll to her chest.
“If you don’t listen to me right now, baby girl, you’re going to your room. I mean it.” I’ve done it many times when Dad felt too guilty to punish her.
I don’t need to see Theory’s tongue to know she’s sticking it out. “You’re not my daddy. Just the meanest big brother in the world.”
“You haven’t seen mean, trust me. Now get up or I’m carrying you to your room and locking the door.”
“I said no!” she yells again, but this time while standing and kicking me between my legs really hard.
So hard it makes me dizzy…and I eventually black out.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lavell, but I’m afraid this is our best option,” some doctor I don’t recognize tells my dad from the foot of the hospital bed I’ve been lying in for over twenty-four hours.
“I can’t.” My dad shakes his head, looking so tired you’d think he was the one who’s been drugged up with a ton of meds.
My body is weak, and my head is still groggy, so I don’t remember everything that happened after Theory kicked me, and a huge part of me is thankful for it.
Because finding my baby girl unconscious underneath me with my hands squeezing her neck, blood everywhere, and face swollen is more than enough to make me want to die.
How could I do this to her?
What kind of a monster am I?
I love Theory so much, I’d never want to hurt her.
I hate even yelling at her.
I love her. I love her. I love her.
My lips open and close to try and speak, but my throat is too dry to make words.
“It is my strong medical opinion that you reconsider. Your son has now become a danger to your daughter. Maybe even society.”
There’s a painful feeling in my chest as I listen to what he says, like I’m being squeezed from the inside. “You’re wrong…I’d never hurt my baby girl.” I cry, trying to shake my head, but it’s too heavy.
The doctor doesn’t seem to give a crap what I have to say and continues talking to my dad. “Holy Trinity is a state of the art facility in Cypress, California, with world renowned psychiatrists and therapists. It’s private, secluded, confidential, and I truly believe your son will do well with a one year treatment plan.”
Dad pinches his nose. “I…I need a little time. Please.”
“Of course.” The stupid doctor nods. “Just ring one of the nurses when you’re ready, and we can speak in depth in my office.”
I move my arms, but not a lot since they’re handcuffed to the side rails. “Dad…please…I didn’t mean to do this.”
