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JAY
Iwas ten years old again, my heart pounding with rage and fear as I hid behind my bed, Evan sitting next to me with an expression of fear on his face.
“Evan! Where the hell are you?”
My dad’s voice always sounded larger than life, like a booming giant who’d stormed down from some forgotten mountaintop to wreak destruction and havoc.
“What’s wrong with Dad?” I asked.
Evan, twelve years old at the time, regarded me with an unsure expression. By that point I was well aware of Dad’s anger, how he used it to get what he wanted, to keep the household in line through intimidation.
To me, Dad’s anger was confusing. Dads were supposed to be loving. Why did our dad get so angry for no reason?
There was more to it than that. Dad hit Evan, hurt him in ways that Evan was always protecting me from. When I was a kid, I’d never been sure why Dad always seemed to choose him as the main target for his rage. Maybe because Evan was never one to buckle under authority, always talking back and questioning his tyranny.
“Dads in a bad mood,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You know how he gets.”
Calling Dad’s anger a “bad mood” was the understatement to end all understatements, but what was he supposed to say? That his own dad liked to hit his kids?
“Evan!” Dad’s voice sounded like the sheer power of it might be enough to bring the house down to its foundations. “Get your ass out here right now!”
The thunderous voice was followed by the banging of his heavy boots against the ground.
I had learned by now that if Dad had to come and find Evan, it would be even worse. Not to mention, there was always the risk that any one of us could be brought into the violence.
“Stay here,” Evan said, grabbing my wrist. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Dad, but we need to hide.”
I shook my head. “Can’t hide. Dad’s going to find us.”
Evan took his hand off my wrist and prepared to stand.
“No!” I shouted. “You can’t!”
“It’s just Dad and I arguing about stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. I have to go, Jay. Dad’s…he’s not fun when he’s in these moods.”
Evan regarded me with an expression that suggested he knew he had to give up his hiding place, and that he didn’t like it one bit.
My heart pounded and my nerves were on fire. Evan had faced down Dad before, so I knew what to expect by that point. However, that didn’t make it any easier. Evan placed his palms on the rug and prepared to stand and I braced myself for what was about to happen.
Evan rose and turned just in time to watch as dad threw open the bedroom door. Dad was tall, but in that moment, he seemed even bigger, larger than life. His eyes seemed to be on fire with pure, molten anger.
“Evan!” he shouted; his voice so loud that I could feel it in my bones. “What have I told you about making me come find you?”
Evan said nothing, knowing there was nothing he could say or do that would help. Every word would be used against him. So, he kept silent.
Dad snorted, the noise reminding me of a bull about to charge.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re in trouble, kid. And you and I are going to have a talk in the garage. Got it?”
I was still huddled by Evan’s feet, hopefully hidden out of sight by the bed.
Evan prepared to take a step in Dad’s direction. Without even a moment to react, Dad flew across the room with superhuman speed, bent over, grabbed the bed, and flipped it away as if it weighed nothing at all.
I was exposed and Dad’s eyes landed on me.
“What the hell are you doing here, Jay?” Dad growled. “Were you two coming up with new ways to ignore my rules, to disrespect me?”
“No!” Evan shouted. “He just wanted to know—”
