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“Marina’s. Hanging out with Roy.”
“Why the fuck did I get a call from the school saying you’d been in a fight this morning?”
You’re dead, Mrs. Abernathy.
I shook my head. “It was nothing. Some pathetic boy came at me and I defended myself.”
Dad stood up. “Not what I heard.”
“Well, I don’t care what you heard. That’s not what happened. He crossed a line, so I defended myself.”
“Does that crossed line happen to be something he did to that bike of yours? Because I’ve got every intention of taking that away from you right now.”
“You aren’t taking that from me again.”
Dad charged from around the kitchen table and I puffed out my chest. Cecilia stood up, hollering for him to stop as he barreled directly into me. I winced as the pain in my neck grew. He shoved me against the wall, then pinned me with his hands wrapped up in my shirt. Apparently, all he heard was I’d been in a fight. He didn’t give a shit about the injuries I’d suffered during the event.
Typical, for my father.
Cecilia slammed her hand on the table. “You know that nurse said he’s only a few steps away from a concussion. Let him go.”
Dad growled. “You’re so full of shit. Thinking you can walk around here like you own the place. Don't forget who bought you that bike.”
I grinned. “You bought my first bike. I dipped into my trust fund with your permission to buy the second one.”
“And don’t you dare forget who can take that away from you.”
I snickered. “If you did, you’d be stuck with me. Which is something I know you don’t want.”
“Not when you’re a piece of trash.”
“Like father, like son.”
I gnashed my teeth at him before I saw his hand come into view. And before I could even blink, I felt his knuckles crack against my cheekbone. My neck felt as if it were on fire, and I stumbled on my feet. I felt my father grip my shirt again and bring me back into the wall, only to come down against my face again.
He hit me three solid times before Cecilia’s shrieks caused him to pause.
“Howard! Stop it! You’re going to put him in the hospital!”
I felt my father release my shirt and I slipped back down to my feet. But my father spun around and I heard him yelling at her. I knew he was probably spitting on her. I watched him stick his finger in her face, but she stood her ground, her small frame enveloped in the most expensive of fabrics. The two of them yelled back and forth at one another, but I had no idea what they were saying. I didn’t care, either. All I knew was I had to get out.
I had to get away from this place.
I reached for the garage door and ripped it open. I stumbled out, my vision slowly coming into focus. I saw the garage door closing and I made a break for it. I heard my father screaming my name as I ducked underneath the moving metal door. I dug my keys out and slung my leg over my bike. My father’s voice approached me from behind as I quickly struck up my engine.
“Get back here, you son of a bitch. That bike is mine!”
And just as I felt his hands on the back of my leather jacket, I tore off.
Cecilia’s cries faded into the background. My father’s cursing fell away from my ears. The engine of my bike roared underneath me, vibrating as it carried me away from that fucking hellhole. The wind rushed through my hair. I sped out of the neighborhood, making my way for the high school. I didn’t know where the fuck I was going, but I sure as hell wasn’t going home.
Ever, if I could swing it.
I hope you rot in hell, Dad.
I drove around town, feeling my wallet burning a hole against my ass cheek. I stopped off at a diner, where my stomach started growling at the smells of food. I walked inside and slid my helmet off, watching as people gave me strange looks. I made my way for the bathroom and scoffed when I saw myself, finally realizing why people kept giving me awkward glances.
