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I cringed as hot tears blurred my vision, forcing me to turn away. Guilt crushed my soul. It was selfish of me to even complain. Dad had beat the shit out of her and put her in the hospital. She should’ve pressed charges. He’d be locked up, and we’d be safe. She’d be safe.
“He’ll follow us to Minnesota, just like all the other times we moved.”
Mom collapsed on the edge of my bed. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know how hard all this has been for you.” She sobbed into her hands. It broke something in me to see her cry. “I’m terrified of him. He could kill me the next time.”
“Then tell the cops! No, I’ll tell them.” I should’ve spilled my guts when the officer questioned me. But I’d been too afraid they’d call social services and put me in foster care.
The law was fucked. Neighbors had called the cops when they’d hear the yelling coming from my house. Dad destroyed everything in his path when on a rampage: pictures, dishes, the flat screen on the wall. My mom endured the brunt of his destruction. The damn police rarely took his ass in. If they did, he was freed within hours.
Sometimes I thought about taking the law into my own hands. A violent dick like my dad should be stopped. If no one was going to help my mom, I would.
“No, Zander.” She reached for my hand. I let her take it and tug me beside her. “I don’t want you involved. This will be the last move we ever make. I promise.” She hugged me, hissing through the pain.
I wished I believed her, but I knew that asshole would follow us. Taking the law into my own hands sounded like a good idea. I could make sure he never followed us to Minnesota.
