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“Of course, Jax. You never have to ask.”
Before I could walk into her house, she was on the porch wrapping me in her arms, and for the first time in my life, I realized home wasn’t a place, it was a person. When I was lost that night, I ran away to Kennedy, and lucky for me, she let me in.
24
Jax
Thirteen years old
I wished Mom wasn’t at work.
I wished Derek wasn’t at football practice.
I wished I wasn’t home alone with Dad. I hated being home alone with Dad.
“For fuck’s sake. Would you stop shaking already? You’re going to scare the damn thing off,” Dad said from behind me. He steadied my hands on the gun. The deer lingered in front of me with its head down, eating something, maybe grass or a branch?
What do deer eat? Fruit? Berries? Do they eat as a family sometimes and carry food home with them? Or are they only supposed to look out for themselves?
“Steady your grip,” Dad hissed against my ear. His rough voice snapped me out of my thoughts. The deer looked up and hesitated for a moment. He stretched his neck up and started chewing on a twig from a tree.
Twigs! They eat twigs!
“Look at that beauty, Jax. That’s a solid white-tailed deer.”
My heart pounded hard in my chest, because the deer was a beauty—so why would I kill it? What had that animal done to me? Nothing. It didn’t look like it did anything to anyone. I looked up to Dad and saw how proud he seemed. I couldn’t think of the last time he looked proud around me, and I didn’t want to let him down.
Dad said real men go hunting, and I wanted to be a real man like him. Derek was off at football practice and Mom was working late at the diner, so it was just Dad and me at home in our woods. I wasn’t even sure we were allowed to hunt in June, but Dad told me it was his land so he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
My eyes focused in on the deer. It was becoming harder and harder for me to breathe. It felt like someone had put their hand in my chest, grabbed my heart, and promised to only let go if I made a choice.
Be a man or be a pussy.
The animal stood there, minding its own business as I stalked it in the shadows made by the bushes.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered, my shaking returning. It wasn’t fair. The deer hadn’t done anything. We had food in our house. We didn’t need it. We weren’t hungry. I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t hungry… “Please no,” I softly said again, maybe to myself, maybe to God.
“Come on. Derek killed three all on his own last year. If you don’t do it, you can be damn sure you’re not going to camp later this week. Don’t be a little shit,” Dad said, threatening me with the one thing he knew would hurt me. I didn’t want to miss camp with Kennedy. I’d been waiting all year for it.
When the deer looked back down to the ground to find more twigs, I lowered my gun. I didn’t know if Dad saw it, but right behind the whitetail was a baby deer. Her doe eyes were wide, and she looked scared. My eyes filled with tears. I can’t do it.
“Fuckin’ A, Jax,” Dad said before lowering himself to the ground with his gun that was twice as big as mine, if not three times bigger. He zoned in on the deer. I felt my stomach flip and a nasty taste of vomit settled in my throat. I did my best to push it back down, swallowing hard. I stood and almost lost my balance from standing too fast. My eyes locked with the baby deer who seemed to be invisible to my dad. I shook my head back and forth.
I can’t!
I can’t let it happen! I can’t let the deer die!
In a panic, I started waving my arms and shouting. “No! Run! Run!” I screamed, the back of my throat feeling strained and sore. The deer looked alarmed and started to move. I jumped up and down, trying to flag it to run and never look back, but it was too late. Dad’s gun fired and the deer only made it a few feet before it fell over to the ground.
My eyes moved to where the baby deer was standing a few minutes ago. She was gone, now.
“What the hell, kid?” Dad yelled at me. He stood and slapped me on the back of my head. “Pack up your shit and wait here.” I listened to him mutter under his breath about me.
He walked toward the deer.
The dead deer.
