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She’s a textbook case of childhood abuse. I used her life in my dissertation. I spent months studying the correlation between her upbringing and the environment her parents created. Then there’s the biggest factor—her parents were alcoholics and drug addicts. That poor child didn’t stand a chance to become a successful adult.
No one can survive after everything she was put through and come out unscathed. I would know. I’m an expert. I lived through tragedy, created my own hell, and burned to a crisp.
There’s not one book that can tell me how someone who’s broken beyond recognition can find love.
But after all my sins, am I deserving of love?
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Suddenly Broken
Mason
Mason, age nineteen…
“How long until this is over?” I mutter, shifting my weight for what seems like the billionth time in the past hour.
Big mistake.
The first rule of working with my father is to keep your mouth shut.
He turns his focus from the building across the street to me. “You’ll never be able to do this job if you can’t hold still,” Dad warns me.
This isn’t a job.
We’re just surveilling. If I knew this job was standing on top of a roof for hours, I would’ve stayed at home playing video games or working with Silas, one of Dad’s friends. He’s a weapons expert. We’ve been developing technology for the company I plan to start soon. We’re creating a state-of-the-art alarm system, among other gear. Maybe, in a couple of years, we can custom-build them.
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
Dad puts down the binoculars again and stares at me, contempt and frustration radiating in his eyes.
“You’ll do better if you just focus on computers and games,” he says almost dismissively.
He doesn’t find what I do with my life meaningful. I wish he would take me more seriously, but I can’t change the man, can I?
“This job requires years of training. I spent hours in combat. This isn’t some video game you can turn on and off when it’s convenient for you.”
I fucking know that.
The biggest problem with my father is that he doesn’t believe in me, and yet I’m still here. I need him to teach me the ropes. He has to finish what he started long ago.
If he could, he’d disown me and adopt another kid who he could be proud of.
Dad wants perfection. I’m anything but perfect.
Arthur Bradley, former Ranger, security consultant, and bodyguard to celebrities, deserves a better son. He’s a war hero—a decorated US soldier.
And what am I? I’m a disgrace.
A kid who had more health problems while growing up than the WebMD database. Epilepsy, asthma, and several allergies… I didn’t qualify to be in the Army and follow in his footsteps.
He had high hopes. Dad’s been training me since the age of… I can’t remember. I was young. Instead of teaching me to throw a ball, he taught me how to shoot. I began to practice basic martial arts at the age of four.
It wasn’t until I turned six that I began proper training in Judo and Karate. Slowly, he added Aikido, Muay Thai, Krav Maga, Kung Fu, and even Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Social services might frown upon my upbringing.
At nineteen, I can kill someone with a paperclip—it’s possible. I can handle knives, swords, and the occasional cooking pan.
“You never know when you have to defend yourself, Mason. Everything is a weapon if you know how to use it. Even a pen,” he said once when he handed me a sixteen-inch pan and told me to defend myself.
