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Why’d he fucking have me if he couldn’t stand the sight of me?
His face turned beet red from the pressure while he unsuccessfully tried to suck air past the obstruction. I gripped tighter. Tyler used his body weight to lunge. He succeeded in crashing us both over the kitchen table, which breaks with the impact of our weight. The chairs fell away as the old wooden leaves splintered underneath us. A table I'd sat at every morning of my life, eating my cold cereal at while I talked to my mom. Countless conversations with her trying to cover a black eye, a bruise, a scrape he gave her in an act of domestic violence.
“You little shit, you think you’re better than everyone else,” he could barely talk, but his new angle on top of me allowed him enough air to speak. He brought his hands to my neck to choke me out. Good luck. I was at least two minutes ahead of him. We’d see who the real coward was.
“Fuck you,” I told him.
He spat in my face.
My rage simmered but didn’t explode. I dug my thumbs in farther, the cords in his neck strained with the exertion.
Tyler dug in harder, and air was no longer an option for me. My determination didn’t wane, it got stronger, fueled by his hatred.
Then his hands left my neck and I opened my mouth and lungs like a fish out of water. I rolled so that I was on top of him to gain the upper hand. My lungs burned and my chest ached, but my heart beat with vengeance. Whatever love or attachment I had towards my father was a bridge that burned long ago. All that’s left were broken bonds and the cold-blooded killer instinct that he passed down to me—part of the God-given Montgomery legacy.
Tyler wrangled a .38 from the waist of his jeans. I should have known he was armed, not man enough to fight his son with his own fists. I strengthened my chokehold in hopes of squeezing the life out of him.
When he got the gun free, he reached past my face and aimed it at the ceiling, shooting twice.
A warning.
Fox came flying down the stairs. He tore my father off of me and my hands slipped from their death grip. Tyler heaved, both hands encircling his neck as if to protect the area from further damage. Fox blocked me as I leapt toward Tyler, ready to hear his death rattle. I wouldn’t have backed away at mercy, I wouldn’t have let go until I watched with satisfaction as his eyes rolled back in his head.
One less stain on humanity, one less scourge on the neighborhood, one less night of my mother’s tears.
But Fox's body slammed me into the wall and held me back like a rabid animal. My face was hot and wet with blood and tears as I growled and hissed and writhed against my brother’s unyielding hold.
“I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him,” I snarled.
Over Fox’s shoulder, I watched Tyler drop his hands and shake his mussed hair out of his eyes. His wicked eyes gleamed with the promise of blood. He regained his composure and a wicked smile crept across his face. He found my Achilles heel, my one true vulnerability.
Ellison
And Tyler Montgomery would never let me live it down.
I bucked against my body-builder brother straining the cage of his arms.
“Cal, your loss of control is his victory. You’re playing right into his palm.”
Fox was right, but it didn’t ease the hate. The only way I could imagine putting an end to this was with my father gone—permanently. I depleted my strength struggling against my brother. His efforts to hold me back were noble, but I couldn’t see this ending well for any of us.
That was, until Ellison came down the stairs into the kitchen.
The three of us froze and went silent as we took in her form. Fair complexion, red lips, black hair cascading down from a haphazard ponytail.
“Calvin, I want to go home.” She refused to look at my father. Fox stepped away from me and Ellison rushed full force into my arms.
“I’ll take you home, baby.”
I tried to remain calm in her presence. I didn’t look at my father either, knowing that if I did, the murder lust would return. The house was silent again but for the heavy breaths Tyler pulled through a wrecked trachea. The wind outside picked up and branches scratched ominously against the kitchen window. The remnants of the dining set weren’t the only part of this family that’s in tatters.
“Come on.” I gathered Ellison, pushed her hair back from her face and tucked her under my arm.
“You’re bleeding, Cal,” she said. El touched the side of my head and more tears threatened to fall. If he touched her, I’ll kill him. If he hurt her, it would be torture.
