Page 25 of Finding Noah

He was tearing Mom's dress and pushing her to bend over the table. She was crying, her face was bleeding, and Dad held her, his hand pressed to her back as his other hand worked to open his fly.

“No, no, no,” Mom cried. “Please, Seth. No. Stop. Please.”

She was begging him, pleading with him to stop, and something red and hot and angry built in my gut and rose to my chest. Remembering her naked in her bed, broken and hurt and sad. Something like that hadn't happened since then, and now seeing this scene unfold in front of me, I struggled to understand what that something was … yet I knew. I knew what I was seeing and what he was doing, but I couldn't figure out how someone could be so bad, so awful, so …

I started to cry, unable to look at anything else, and I screamed, “Get away from her! Get off! Asshole! Get off of her!” as I ran as fast as I could, jumping on Dad's back. Trying to remember what Soldier had told me to do, where to aim.

Go for the head. Go for the face, the eyes.

And I tried. I tried my hardest. But I was too damn weak. Too small. And Dad easily wrestled me from his neck, throwing me to the floor and onto shards of glass. Something sliced my arm, and I cried out, but I didn't have time to react because Dad was coming at me. His fist was raised, ready to strike my face. Fury was alive in his eyes, and I widened my gaze at him, realizing it didn’t matter to him that I was his kid, his only son. He was going to hurt me.

Maybe he's even gonna kill me.

Like Tommy’s kid.

He leaned over me, took his position, and I winced, squeezing my eyes shut and covering my head with my arms, ready to take the hit. Ready to do anything as long as he was leaving Mom alone.

Then …

There was a scuffle, and Dad's hot breath was no longer on me. I opened my eyes and saw Soldier dragging him away, his arm around Dad's neck.

My eyes rounded, and quietly, I prayed, Please kill him. Oh my God, please, please, please kill him.

It felt wrong. It felt terrible. I wasn't supposed to think things like that. But if Dad was dead, if he was gone, he'd never come back. We could live forever without being scared again, and life would always, always, always be good.

Mom.

With Soldier holding Dad back, I was okay to get to Mom, and I ran. She was frozen, crouching against the kitchen cabinets. Trembling like she was freezing, even though the house was warm. Her dress was torn up her back. Her underwear ripped around her ankles.

Her phone was on the counter above where she sat, and I grabbed it before dropping to the floor at her side.

“Mom!” I cried, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

She shuddered under my touch.

“Mom, it's me. It's Noah.”

She squeezed her eyes even tighter. “Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh no. N-Noah, no …”

“It's okay,” I said, even though I knew it wasn't. Of course it wasn't. “It's okay. Soldier's here.”

She rested her head against my shoulder and her body trembled with every breath.

I felt like the grown-up.

“Noah!” Soldier shouted as he fought with Dad. “Call 911!”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. I’d heard him—I had—but the words weren't registering.

“Call 9—fuck!”

I opened my mouth to tell Soldier to watch out, that Dad was right behind him, but all that came out was a scream. A scared sound, a weak one, and suddenly, I felt nothing but shame, cowering against the cabinets with Mom.

I should've been helping. I should've been fighting Dad with Soldier, protecting Mom and the nice house we lived in. I should've been a man. But I wasn't. I was a stupid, terrified little boy who could do nothing but stare.

“Ho-ly shit,” Dad said, finally getting a look at Soldier's face. “Soldier Mason. So, this is where you ended up, huh? You're the new guy next door.”

I frowned and glanced at Mom, but she was still shaking, her stare blank.