Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
"Yes," he whispers, his voice raw with shame. "I...I broke the rules. I stayed out late. Really late. Past curfew. My friend dropped me off and I thought I would sneak in. He's got his driver's license, it's okay. We were just hanging out at his house, his parents were home and everything, they knew I was there, it was cool. They’re really accepting." He pauses, wiping his nose. "And then dad caught me sneaking in. I was wearing this. I had on makeup. I thought I could get in my room and wash it off before he saw. He lost his shit. He...he threatened to kill me. He came after me. I ran, I escaped, went around him. I ran through the house."
He glances at my mother. "Sarah woke up. Started yelling at him to leave me alone. He came after me again, she went in front to protect me and he hit her. Then he threw her to the ground and said he was coming for me. I had to run outside and hide."
The anger rising through me, the flames licking, burning me, are like nothing else. "Where is he now?" I manage to say, choked.
"Upstairs," my mother says quietly. She looks up, her eyes meet mine and I see a tired vulnerability that was never there before. "You need to go Laz."
I shake my head, getting to my feet. "Go? Go? I just got here. I'm just getting started."
"We'll sort this out on our own," she says.
“Have you called the cops?”
She shakes her head. “No. What will they do?”
I almost laugh. “Are you serious? Mum, you have to call the cops. This is assault. He fucking hit you. He was going to do the same to Noah. This is abuse. This is something he needs to go to jail for, for a very long time.”
“You know he’s powerful,” she says meekly, pleading with her eyes. “You know that he has people eating out of the palm of his hand. The police aren’t on our side.”
“If you don’t call the police, I will.”
“Laz, please. Don’t. Do it for me. Don’t ruin Noah’s life.”
“Noah’s life?” I repeat. “You have got to be…I can’t believe you.”
“I’m scared,” she snaps at me, tears filling her eyes. “Okay? I’m bloody scared and I don’t know what to do. I just don’t. Okay? I don’t.” She starts to cry, breaking down in front of me like she never has before.
Despite everything that has gone wrong between us, I put my hand over hers. Then I look at Noah. “You know we have to call the cops.”
“I know,” he says. “But I’m afraid that…he won’t get put away. And then he’ll hurt me. You know what he said? That I wasn’t his son. That I was a disgrace. That I’ll never be a proper man and I might as well off myself if that was the case.”
Again, my blood boils over.
Rage seethes and seethes.
“He basically told me to kill myself,” he cries. “My own fucking father.”
“Noah,” my mother says softly but doesn’t add anything more.
“Fine,” I tell them, letting the anger fill me like tar, black, oozing, sticky. “I’ll fix it myself.”
“Laz,” my mother hisses.
But I’m already walking off through the kitchen.
Past the broken frames.
Up the stairs.
Down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
The lights are off.
I can hear Daryl breathing.
Raspy exhales in the darkness.
I’m sent back in time, to when I was a child, approaching my father. The sleeping bear you never wanted to wake sometimes. I learned to become extremely adept at walking quietly, not making a sound, not existing.
But this time, I’m not here to be quiet.
I stand at the foot of the bed, eyes focused with laser precision on the figure lying across it. How fucking dare he try to sleep right now after what he did. He should be begging my mother and Noah for mercy. He should be turning himself in. He should be shaking with fear.
He’s none of that.
“Get the fuck up,” I say, my voice breaking with anger.
He stirs and then flips over. I can’t see his eyes but I know he’s looking at me.
“What?” he asks.
Groggy. He’s actually fucking groggy from a deep fucking sleep.
“I said get the fuck up!” I yell at him. “Get the fuck up you bastard.”
“Laz? What the fuck are you doing here?”
I’m not myself right now.
The Laz I knew leaves my body behind.
I go around the side of the bed and reach down, grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him out of bed. Daryl’s not a tall guy but he is big and stocky and built like a bull and yet I’m able to get him out of bed, to his feet.
I don’t know what my plan is.
I don’t have time to think about what my plan is.
“Who do you think you are,” Daryl is saying pushing me back. “Get the fuck out of my house!”