have an idea, but until I know for sure, I don’t want to panic anyone.”
Yep, that made me even angrier.
~~~~~~
Chapter 15
I searched the books on the lower shelves, but I knew the ones I wanted were on the top. I moved the ladder to the right spot and climbed. Dad had said I wasn’t allowed to look at these books until I was eighteen. I was six years away, but too curious for my own good. I wanted to show him I was ready to know what he knew. I wanted him to be proud of me, so I was taking the initiative, just like he wanted. “You need to take the initiative to be better than the next guy, Chase. Show me you want it.” I let those words propel me up the ladder.
I reached the top rung and searched for something of interest. I found a collection of small books, all the same size and color, with unmarked spines. I pulled the first one out and opened it, recognizing my father’s handwriting within.
After reading a few lines I realized it was one of his journals. I always saw him writing in them, but he’d never tell me what he wrote about. I went against my better judgment and slipped the book into my pocket. It would make for some interesting reading later.
I stepped down the ladder, but when I was only halfway, the door opened. I turned to see my father’s back as he closed the door. I panicked and my heart leapt in my chest. Before I could decipher my own thoughts, I slipped and started to fall.
My foot snagged a lower rung and stopped me a few feet from the floor. My body jerked violently and smashed into the ladder. I muffled a cry of pain and my father turned to face me with an unfriendly look.
“What are you doing?” he asked. His tone was one of surprise. He didn’t seem as angry as I expected.
“I, uh, was just looking,” I muttered, my heart pounding in my throat so hard I was sure he could hear it.
I felt the book slip from my back pocket and slide down my back, making the sound of ruffling pages as it hit the floor. I looked at my father and saw the shock on his face. All I could do was close my eyes.
I felt a hand grip my shirt and lift me up. His other hand wrenched my foot out of the rung and I cried out in pain. When my foot was free, it dropped down to meet the other, but they weren’t touching the ground.
He carried me with one arm towards the door. He flung and released me, and my back cracked against the door handle.
“What did I tell you about snooping?” he screamed.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Of course you knew what you were thinking. You didn’t just accidentally climb that ladder and take one of my journals, did you? One of the very books you knew you were prohibited to touch. After all the work I`ve put into you, after all the training, you repay me by going through my things?”
“I’m sorry Dad. I didn’t mean to make you upset; I wanted to make you proud. I was trying to take the initiative, like you said, to be better than the next guy.”
“So this is my fault?” he said, his face turning red.
“No, Dad, that’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, I know what you meant, and you know what I think? I think it’s worse than snooping. You couldn’t own up and be responsible for your actions like a man. No. You had to make an excuse and blame it on someone else. Well, that’s worse than snooping, that’s cowardly, and I won’t allow my son to grow up a coward.”
Before I could brace myself the back of his hand hit my face. I fell to the floor with the heat from his knuckles burning my skin. I felt the bruise form instantly.
I hunched over on all fours, feeling the heat of his anger beat down on me.
“Get out,” he said, too quietly.
I crawled to the door, moving as fast as I could, but my ankle was throbbing.
“Get out!” he yelled.
The room’s temperature spiked and sweat dripped off me. He kicked me from behind, sending a sharp pain up my spine and pushing me the last few inches. I reached for the brass handle on
Yep, that made me even angrier.
~~~~~~
Chapter 15
I searched the books on the lower shelves, but I knew the ones I wanted were on the top. I moved the ladder to the right spot and climbed. Dad had said I wasn’t allowed to look at these books until I was eighteen. I was six years away, but too curious for my own good. I wanted to show him I was ready to know what he knew. I wanted him to be proud of me, so I was taking the initiative, just like he wanted. “You need to take the initiative to be better than the next guy, Chase. Show me you want it.” I let those words propel me up the ladder.
I reached the top rung and searched for something of interest. I found a collection of small books, all the same size and color, with unmarked spines. I pulled the first one out and opened it, recognizing my father’s handwriting within.
After reading a few lines I realized it was one of his journals. I always saw him writing in them, but he’d never tell me what he wrote about. I went against my better judgment and slipped the book into my pocket. It would make for some interesting reading later.
I stepped down the ladder, but when I was only halfway, the door opened. I turned to see my father’s back as he closed the door. I panicked and my heart leapt in my chest. Before I could decipher my own thoughts, I slipped and started to fall.
My foot snagged a lower rung and stopped me a few feet from the floor. My body jerked violently and smashed into the ladder. I muffled a cry of pain and my father turned to face me with an unfriendly look.
“What are you doing?” he asked. His tone was one of surprise. He didn’t seem as angry as I expected.
“I, uh, was just looking,” I muttered, my heart pounding in my throat so hard I was sure he could hear it.
I felt the book slip from my back pocket and slide down my back, making the sound of ruffling pages as it hit the floor. I looked at my father and saw the shock on his face. All I could do was close my eyes.
I felt a hand grip my shirt and lift me up. His other hand wrenched my foot out of the rung and I cried out in pain. When my foot was free, it dropped down to meet the other, but they weren’t touching the ground.
He carried me with one arm towards the door. He flung and released me, and my back cracked against the door handle.
“What did I tell you about snooping?” he screamed.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Of course you knew what you were thinking. You didn’t just accidentally climb that ladder and take one of my journals, did you? One of the very books you knew you were prohibited to touch. After all the work I`ve put into you, after all the training, you repay me by going through my things?”
“I’m sorry Dad. I didn’t mean to make you upset; I wanted to make you proud. I was trying to take the initiative, like you said, to be better than the next guy.”
“So this is my fault?” he said, his face turning red.
“No, Dad, that’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, I know what you meant, and you know what I think? I think it’s worse than snooping. You couldn’t own up and be responsible for your actions like a man. No. You had to make an excuse and blame it on someone else. Well, that’s worse than snooping, that’s cowardly, and I won’t allow my son to grow up a coward.”
Before I could brace myself the back of his hand hit my face. I fell to the floor with the heat from his knuckles burning my skin. I felt the bruise form instantly.
I hunched over on all fours, feeling the heat of his anger beat down on me.
“Get out,” he said, too quietly.
I crawled to the door, moving as fast as I could, but my ankle was throbbing.
“Get out!” he yelled.
The room’s temperature spiked and sweat dripped off me. He kicked me from behind, sending a sharp pain up my spine and pushing me the last few inches. I reached for the brass handle on
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