Page 6 of The Silent Night Stalker
I pry away the sheetrock and take it out.
It’s time to find the next person who needs me.
My body vibrates with excitement.
Chapter 3
Enzo
Thebackhandcomesoutof nowhere, and I fall on my hands and knees before I even feel the pain radiate through my face and head.
“Fucking little shit! I told you to get the fucking dishes done!”
My eyes water, and I stand up on shaking legs as I rub my face. Inside, I’m a mess of fear and rage. I want to lash out at my foster father.Father. What a fucking joke. All of us kids are here as his personal fucking slaves. He doesn’t want us just doing chores; he wants us waiting on him hand and foot.
There are seven of us, but I get beaten the most. I don’t know why he targets me all the time.
“I have to study for two tests tomorrow.” I know that explaining why I got behind on my chores will result in more punishment, but it’s the truth. I want to do well in school. Failing isn’t an option for me.
“Fuck your tests. As if you or any of the other brats around here are ever going to make it in this world. No one wanted you as a kid. No one will want you as an adult. Get the fuck over yourself. The only thing you’re good for is scrubbing toilets.”
He slowly and methodically loosens his belt from his jeans. When he pulls it out, he folds it in half and points at the kitchen table. “Assume the position.”
I don’t want to. I want to fight him and tell him to fuck off, but he said that if I complain or turn him in, they’ll let me rot on the streets alone with no food, shelter, or money. No one will want to foster or adopt a bad kid. At only fourteen, I can’t even have a job yet.
My eyes water more out of fear. Then, the tears start spilling down my face. Getting the belt isn’t only painful, but it’s humiliating. When I look up, I see two of the girls who live here watching from the kitchen doorway. One is smirking at me with this look of, ‘better you than me.’ The other girl’s eyes are red and watery as she hugs herself.
“Go on!” He yells at them. “Do your fucking chores!”
The girls run off as I bend over the table.
“Drop them.”
“I-I don’t want to.”
The crack of the belt is painful, but it hurts less than if I were bare. Then he fists my hair from behind my head to yank it back. “So help me god, I will beat the ever-loving shit out of you if you don’t take your punishment. You’re always fucking fighting me, Enzo. If you just obeyed, I wouldn’t have to waste my damn energy on you. You’re the worst kid here. A fucking loser.”
I’m not a loser, I tell myself. I’m not. But it’s hard to believe that when you’re constantly told you’re nothing.
My hands are shaking so badly as I sit up and undo my jeans. I slide them and my underwear down to my thighs and bend over again, gripping the edges of the table to brace myself against the pain.
I hear the whoosh of the belt before I feel the sting. I jump and cry out, trying so hard to be brave, but I can’t. My foster father just knows how to break me down toa small child.
“Count!”
“One!” I cry out.
Then there’s another.
“Two!”
By the ninth whipping, I hear, “What the fuck?!”
Enrique.
As soon as I hear his voice, I start sobbing. He was at work, so he missed everything.
“Get the fuck out of here, Enrique. Mind your damn business.”
