Page 14 of The Dearly Departed

"I do," Leonard replied happily. "With all the channels."

He didn't know that we didn't know what that meant, and to Ike, it didn't matter that he didn't know either. He jumped up and dashed from the kitchen in search of the TV while Shawn remained seated, his eyes on me.

"Bram, are you serious?" His bewildered gaze darted toward Leonard before dropping back on me. "What if he wants—"

"I will slit his fucking throat if he tries anything," I ground out from between clenched teeth, pinning Leonard with my glare, just to show him how very serious I was.

Leonard didn't flinch at the threat. He only sighed, his eyes clouding with sadness and a sympathy I didn't want.

"I'm good," I promised Shawn. “Go make sure Ike doesn’t steal anything."

Shawn didn't hesitate, though I know he wanted to. He got up and headed out of the room, leaving me alone with this old man we'd only just met.

"Have you hurt people before, Abraham?" Leonard asked, looking into my eyes.

He was testing me. Seeing if my threats were empty.

Leaning against the table, bringing my gaze closer to his, I said, "The last dude who tried to fuck my mouth needed stitches."

Leonard barely nodded. "What did you do?"

"I bit his nasty old-man dick." I let myself smile as I tapped my temple, though the memory sent the sandwiches in my belly swirling. "Sick motherfucker had to knock me out with a beer bottle to get me to unclench my jaw."

He pressed his mouth shut as his fingers twiddled.

I'd made him uncomfortable with the confession.

Good.

"And, um … your brothers?"

"What about them?"

He swallowed audibly. "They, um … they have experienced … that?"

I barked a laugh. "Oh, Shawn's dealt with way worse than that. It's his girlie little body. They can just close their eyes and—"

"Okay," Leonard interjected, flattening his palms to the table. "Okay. I'm … oh God, I'm so sorry you boys have had to live through that. That any kids have to … God …"

The way he kept talking about God made me laugh.

God didn't care about kids like us. The forgotten, abandoned, and unwanted. God didn't watch over us, and He sure as hell didn't protect us from bad people who liked to do bad things.

"Do you think God liked to watch?" I asked, leering. "Do you think He got off on—"

"Where are your parents?"

He caught me off guard, and I wilted back into my seat.

I blinked a few times at him as I poked the inside of my cheek with my tongue, and then I uttered a single word. "Gone."

"What do you mean, they're gone? Are they dead?"

"Mom, yeah," I replied, my tone clipped.

"How long ago?"

I swallowed and tried to do the math in my head. "Uh … twelve years ago, when I was four. Ike was one.”