his focus on my neck. I know he wants to snap me like a twig. My lips are parted, but I can’t speak. Someone has stolen my voice.
“What the fuck gives you the right to attack me in my own home?” His voice is like gravel and nails. Venom is laced thickly through every word. His shoulders are hunched forward like he’s ready to pounce and bury me in the ground.
My heart hammers harder. I don’t understand. I blink, even though I don’t want to take my eyes off the man. “You were hurting him.” The words come out of my mouth in a huff of air as though he’s already choking me.
“It’s none of your damn business what I do to him.” The man’s jaw shifts back and forth. He steps toward me and grabs my wrist. I scream and he shoves me back into the wall. I claw at my arm, at that one wrist that he has pinned, but I’m not strong enough.
The man hisses in my face, “He’s my kid, not yours. I should break your hand for this. You came into my home and attacked me. No one would blame me, you know. No one would know what happened here. They’d say you were lucky that I didn’t shoot you.” He twists my wrist slowly, twisting it farther and farther.
My heart pounds frantically, as pain shoots up my arm. I try to pull away from him, but I can’t. I scratch at his hand, the one holding me, and kick his shins, but he just laughs. It’s like I’m a fly. I can’t do anything to stop him. Fear makes my body shake. He smiles like he’s enjoying hurting me, like he’ll really do it.
I freak out. My brain snaps. Trystan is battered and bloody on the floor and this lunatic is his father. This is the person responsible. Before I know what I’m doing, my mouth lands on his shoulder and I bite. He screams and throws me back. The floor hits me hard and I roll onto my side. There’s no time—there’s no time to run or crawl away. Before I can blink, his foot connects with my stomach. Pain shoots through me as tears burst from my eyes. A raw scream rips from my throat. I try to curl into a ball, but the man doesn’t stop. It’s like he can’t stop, like he has to finish this. I scream louder as the foot comes at me again, but it doesn’t connect.
Trystan is yelling, his voice is mangled, but I still understand him. “Don’t touch her!” He’s standing. There are angry marks around his neck and his lip is split. A trail of blood runs down his cheek. That wound from the other day, the one that Tucker was upset about, opened up.
Tucker. Tucker knew something was wrong. My eyes dart to Trystan. His dad has been beating the shit out of him. I didn’t know. Horror washes over me in a frigid wave. How did I not know?
Trystan’s dad has a strange look on his face. I get to my feet even though my middle feels like it’s been smashed to bits. Trystan stands between us. His shoulders are tense, corded with muscle, ready to fight. I don’t breathe. I can’t. Everything happens so quickly, but it feels like forever, like we’re moving through a vat of Vaseline.
Trystan’s dad takes a swing at his son. Angry words come pouring out of his mouth and his fist follows. Trystan remains between us, dodges the hit, and swings his arm straight up. Trystan’s fist connects under his dad’s jaw. The punch is solid. The man’s bones make a cracking sound before he gets a strange look on his face and falls backwards. His body hits the floor.
Trystan stands over his father, breathing hard, his fingers still clenched into a fist. Neither of us moves. Trystan’s shaking, looking at his hand like he’s some kind of monster. When he turns back to me, I nearly die. His expression is horrible. All the anguish is plainly painted across his face for me to see.
We both stare at each other for a se cond. It feels like time stops, but in a bad way. I finally remember I have feet and lunge at him, throwing myself into his arms. Trystan’s chest is slick, covered in sweat. I feel every muscle in his body as he wraps his arms
“What the fuck gives you the right to attack me in my own home?” His voice is like gravel and nails. Venom is laced thickly through every word. His shoulders are hunched forward like he’s ready to pounce and bury me in the ground.
My heart hammers harder. I don’t understand. I blink, even though I don’t want to take my eyes off the man. “You were hurting him.” The words come out of my mouth in a huff of air as though he’s already choking me.
“It’s none of your damn business what I do to him.” The man’s jaw shifts back and forth. He steps toward me and grabs my wrist. I scream and he shoves me back into the wall. I claw at my arm, at that one wrist that he has pinned, but I’m not strong enough.
The man hisses in my face, “He’s my kid, not yours. I should break your hand for this. You came into my home and attacked me. No one would blame me, you know. No one would know what happened here. They’d say you were lucky that I didn’t shoot you.” He twists my wrist slowly, twisting it farther and farther.
My heart pounds frantically, as pain shoots up my arm. I try to pull away from him, but I can’t. I scratch at his hand, the one holding me, and kick his shins, but he just laughs. It’s like I’m a fly. I can’t do anything to stop him. Fear makes my body shake. He smiles like he’s enjoying hurting me, like he’ll really do it.
I freak out. My brain snaps. Trystan is battered and bloody on the floor and this lunatic is his father. This is the person responsible. Before I know what I’m doing, my mouth lands on his shoulder and I bite. He screams and throws me back. The floor hits me hard and I roll onto my side. There’s no time—there’s no time to run or crawl away. Before I can blink, his foot connects with my stomach. Pain shoots through me as tears burst from my eyes. A raw scream rips from my throat. I try to curl into a ball, but the man doesn’t stop. It’s like he can’t stop, like he has to finish this. I scream louder as the foot comes at me again, but it doesn’t connect.
Trystan is yelling, his voice is mangled, but I still understand him. “Don’t touch her!” He’s standing. There are angry marks around his neck and his lip is split. A trail of blood runs down his cheek. That wound from the other day, the one that Tucker was upset about, opened up.
Tucker. Tucker knew something was wrong. My eyes dart to Trystan. His dad has been beating the shit out of him. I didn’t know. Horror washes over me in a frigid wave. How did I not know?
Trystan’s dad has a strange look on his face. I get to my feet even though my middle feels like it’s been smashed to bits. Trystan stands between us. His shoulders are tense, corded with muscle, ready to fight. I don’t breathe. I can’t. Everything happens so quickly, but it feels like forever, like we’re moving through a vat of Vaseline.
Trystan’s dad takes a swing at his son. Angry words come pouring out of his mouth and his fist follows. Trystan remains between us, dodges the hit, and swings his arm straight up. Trystan’s fist connects under his dad’s jaw. The punch is solid. The man’s bones make a cracking sound before he gets a strange look on his face and falls backwards. His body hits the floor.
Trystan stands over his father, breathing hard, his fingers still clenched into a fist. Neither of us moves. Trystan’s shaking, looking at his hand like he’s some kind of monster. When he turns back to me, I nearly die. His expression is horrible. All the anguish is plainly painted across his face for me to see.
We both stare at each other for a se cond. It feels like time stops, but in a bad way. I finally remember I have feet and lunge at him, throwing myself into his arms. Trystan’s chest is slick, covered in sweat. I feel every muscle in his body as he wraps his arms
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