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“Him or us,” I bit out, teeth chattering from the pain clawing its way up my body that I was desperately trying to ignore. “Him or us, Mam.”
Silence.
Blank stares.
Nothing.
She just continued to sit by his side, staring vacantly up at me.
“I want you to know something,” I managed to say, fighting back the tears that were trying to fill my eyes. “I want you to know that I hate you right now more than I have ever hated him. I want you to know that you are no longer my mother—not that I ever had one of those to begin with.”
“Please…”
“No.” Sniffling back a sob, I shook my head and said, “From this moment on, you are dead to me. All of your shit? Handle it yourself. The next time he hits you, I won’t be there to shield you. The next time he drinks all the money, and you can’t feed the kids or get the electricity switched back on, find some other asshole to get cash from. The next time he throws you down the staircase or breaks your fucking arm in one of his whiskey tantrums, I’ll turn a blind eye just like you did right here in this kitchen.”
“Joey.”
“From this day on, I won’t be there to protect you from him, just like you weren’t there to protect us.”
“Don’t talk to your mother like that.” Climbing unsteadily to his feet, the prick attempted to threaten me. “You ungrateful little—”
“Don’t even think about speaking to me, you scummy piece of shit,” I roared, unwilling to dance a tango with him another second. “I might share your blood, but that’s as far as it goes. You and me are done, old man. You can burn in hell for all I care. In fact, I sincerely hope you do.”
“You think you can talk to me like that?” he hissed, wiping the blood from his face. “You need to settle the fuck down, boy.”
“You’re calling me ‘boy’?” I threw my head back and laughed humorlessly. “Me? The one who’s been raising your fucking kids for most of my life.” I gestured to the four children hiding behind me. “The one who’s been cleaning up both of your messes. Taking care of both of your responsibilities, picking up the slack for two worthless, piece-of-shit parents.” These were the very people who decided that I wouldn’t make a good father. Fucking hypocrites. “I might be only eighteen, but I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
“Don’t push your luck, Joey. I’m warning ya.”
“Or fucking what?” I sneered, glaring back at him. “You’ll knock me around? Hit me? Kick me? Get your belt out? Take a hurley to my legs? Bust a bottle over my head? Terrorize me? Guess what? I’m not a scared little boy anymore, old man.” I shook my head in utter fucking contempt for the man. “I’m not a defenseless child, I’m not a scared teenage girl, and I’m not your battered wife. So, whatever you do to me, I can promise you that I’ll return tenfold.”
He knew this. He knew that the only way to keep me down was to kill me. Because I would never back down from him. As long as there was air in my lungs, I would continue to stand my ground.
I would always fight back.
“Get out of my house,” he demanded, letting me know that he heard me loud and clear. “Now, boy!”
“Teddy, stop.” Mam hurried to intercept him. “You can’t—”
“Shut the fuck up, woman! I’ll break your face for ya. Do ya hear me?”
“You can’t throw him out,” she whimpered, cowering from him. “Please. He’s my son.”
“Oh, so now I’m your son?” I shook my head in disgust. It was too little too late. “Don’t do me any favors.”
“This is your fault, girl,” Dad accused then, turning his whiskey tantrum back on my sister. “Whoring around the fucking town. Making trouble for this family. You’re the problem in this—”
“Don’t even go there,” I warned, blocking her from his view. “Keep your goddamn eyes off her.”
“It’s the truth,” he continued to goad, focusing on Shannon when he wasn’t getting anywhere with me.
The blood I shed was the physical kind, but our father wanted more than that. He was starved for evidence of the mental anguish he inflicted upon us. It was something he would never drain from me, so he took it from my sister.
“You’re a waste of space and you always have been. I told your mother about ya, but she wouldn’t hear it. I knew, though. Even when you were small, I knew what kind you were. A fucking runt. Don’t know where ya came from.”
“That’s a lie, Teddy,” was my mother’s pathetic attempt to protect her. “Shannon, baby, that’s not—”
“We never wanted you. Did ya know that? Your mother left you for a week in the hospital, debating whether or not to give ya up. Until the guilt got the better of her. But I never changed my mind. I couldn’t even stand the sight of ya, let alone love ya!”
