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Oh, no.
I swallowed.
When I didn’t answer right away, his grip tightened.
“What is it Olivia?!” He shook me roughly, hard enough that my teeth clanked together.
“It’s a tattoo,” I cried.
His fingers dug painfully into my arm. His face reddened as his teeth clamped together. It felt as if he held me like that, for minutes, but the logical part of my mind knew that wasn’t true. My adrenaline had already clicked in.
He released me roughly and I fell, sliding across the hardwood floor, where my head smacked into the wall. I reached up and fingered the tender part of my skull, half expecting there to be blood.
He glared down at me, and I flinched, waiting for him to strike.
My breath came out in ragged gasps, like I couldn’t get enough oxygen.
“You’re nothing but trouble,” he glared at me with eyes that were anything but human. He was a monster. “Your mother should’ve had you taken care of.”
Surprising words from a man who preached about the sins of abortion.
He stood there, seething, his chest rising and falling as his hands flexed at his sides.
For some reason, he looked around my room, and his eyes landed on the pictures on my bed.
“No,” he growled softly. “No!” He screamed, storming over to my bed, reaching for the pictures.
I knew that he was going to ruin the pictures, the only thing I had tying me to a man I had only learned about yesterday, and that spurned me into action.
Those pictures were the key to a life I knew nothing about and I wasn’t about to give it up.
With energy I didn’t know I possessed, I stood.
He picked one of the pictures up, and crumpled it into his hand, yelling unintelligibly.
I jumped on his back, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, as he reached for another picture.
“Those are mine!” I screamed. I wouldn’t let him ruin them.
“She was never supposed to tell you!” He roared, rearing back in an effort to dislodge me. I may have been small but adrenaline was on my side. I wouldn’t be easily thwarted.
My arms tightened around his neck, I wasn’t really trying to choke him, I only wanted him to stop destroying the photos. They were the only things I possessed that made Derek real.
“Stop it!” I shrieked when he reached for another. “Those are mine!”
“I raised you! You’re my daughter!” He yelled, his spit landing on my arm.
“I was never your daughter!” I screamed shrilly. “Never!”
He started to rip the photo and time slowed down further.
I found myself letting go of his neck with one arm, and clinging tightly to his waist with my legs, as I reached for the heavy light on my bedside table.
I yanked the cord from the outlet and hurled the lamp at his head.
He grunted, and fell slack, falling to the side.
I fell with him, my knee harshly colliding with the hardwood floor. He landed on my leg, passed out, and I pushed at him.
