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I walk over to Cara and bend down. “How are you feeling?”
She shrugs. “Really uncomfortable today. I think it’s because I’m moving so much. I want to go home and lay down.”
“Did you think about what I said the other night? About the baby?” I lay my hand on my stomach, and warmth spreads into my fingers, up my arm, and throughout my body.
Cara looks up at me. “I did, and—”
The door bangs open and I whip my head around, surprise moving through me when I see my dad walk in. No, not walk. Stumble.
“Jackson!” He roars, laying his eyes on me. Embarrassment fills me at his slurring tone.Is he drunk?
Cara sits up straight, looking over at me with wide eyes.
“Stay here.” I growl.
Walking off, I start walking down the back hallway. Away from Cara. Away from the remaining people who were too drunk to notice him walk in, but not enough to watch on as stuff goes down.
And by the tension filling the room, I can tell something’s about to happen.
I can hear him stumbling behind me. Getting closer. Mumbling under his breath. It feels like I’m being constricted from the inside. Anxiety slithers in like a snake and wraps around my throat. A vice constricting everything inside of me and squeezingtight.
When we’re around the corner, I turn around and face him. My dad. “What’re you doing here, Dad?”
He sneers at me, alcohol on his breath, but the way his body is trembling makes me think there’s something else running through his body, too.
“What have you been doin’, boy? Livin’ your regular old life, huh? You don’t give a shit that your mom died, do ya?”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re a murderer. I should’ve told everyone when we moved here about you. You kill your momma, and you kill your sister. You make me sick.” He spits at my feet, and my face flames red.
“I didn’t kill Mom.” I seethe. If he only could realize that he was the reason for their deaths. Forbothof their deaths.
He comes toe to toe with me, spittle flying out the corners of his mouth. “You are a stupid piece of shit. I should’ve left you in the closet to rot with the piss covered carpets.”
I take a step back from him. I’m not scared of him, I just don’t want to kill him. And the rage that’s filling up in me is like a bucket ready to be tipped over.
“Go home, old man. Go the fuck home.”
“You better watch your tone with me, boy. You think now that you’re an adult you get to order me around? You better think again.”
I bite my lip, sinking into the skin and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “I’m outta here.” He can belittle me and try to fuck with me all he wants at home. Here, in front of Cara and in the place where I feel safest, I’m not going to let him get to me. He can fuck right off.
I walk around him, ignoring his threats and ramblings of bullshit.
Then a lancing pain shoots through my skull. I fall into the wall, my hand going up to my skull. I turn around and see my dad standing there with the butt of his knife raised to my head.
“Don’t walk away from me, boy. I’m not done talking to you!” His face turns purple in rage.
“I’m not doing this shit here. Go home!” I roar.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” He sends the butt of the knife into my forehead. Darkness flashes in my gaze. My vision goes in and out. I can feel the warm drip of blood trailing down my temple, and my chest seizes.
He’s lost his mind.
“You’re a murderer!” He bellows.
This time he uses his fist, doing his classic punch in my side.
