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My foot steps into nothing, my stomach sinks and my arms flail around, hoping to catch myself on something. Only, there is nothing to hold on to. I helplessly fall into nothingness.
A scream rips from my throat as I hit the first set of stairs. My back slams against the harsh corner of steps, knocking the wind out of me.
My arms come up to protect my head as I keep tumbling down the stairs, violently hitting my knees, my elbows, and my back over and over again before my body collapses on the cold concrete floor of what I’m assuming is the basement.
Groaning, I try to push myself to my feet, but I only make it to my knees when Robert’s foot connects with my ribs, knocking me back to the ground.
“Stay down on the floor where you belong, roach!”
I’m gasping for breath, pain radiating from multiple spots on my body. I’m so out of it, it takes me a moment to realize what he just said. He called me roach.
“It was you,” I grit through my teeth. “You sent me the notes.”
“Ahh, looks like you are not as dumb as I thought.” Robert circles me like a vulture. “Yes, I sent the notes, and now I’m going to stand by my threat. You little cunt, need to die.”
“But why? What have I ever done to you?”
“You don’t think I see what you are trying to do to my son? You seduced him just like your whore mother seduced me! You know how many favors I had to call in to get you into Wicked Falls University? You and your mother are nothing but bloodsucking cunts and I should have killed her along with the bastard child she was carrying. I won’t make the same mistake again. I won’t let you live.”
My whole body is shaking now, my mind going a million miles per hour and all I can think about is how I wish Briggs would come down the stairs and save me.
32
BRIGGS
It’s instantaneous, the way my whole body responds to the sight of a familiar car in front of the house.
A storm explodes inside my skull. He’s not supposed to be here. What is he doing here? When did he show up? The truck is barely in park by the time I jump out of it. Wren didn’t call or text to give me the heads up. Maybe he just got here.
Maybe he didn’t give her the chance.
Somehow, that feels true. I can believe that. It’s what makes me fly up the front steps and through the front door. Dead quiet greets me as I stand in the entry hall. My stomach sinks a little further with every silent second that passes. “Wren?” I finally call out, walking to the stairs, looking up. “Where are you?”
She doesn’t answer me, but I hear her, anyway. The scream that cuts through the air makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I’m running before I can think about it, racing for the basement door. That’s where she is—where he is, and now I hear him snarling and cursing at her.
I’m going to kill him.
“Stop! Please!” Wren’s cries are muffled by the blood rushing in my ears and my feet pounding the stairs. She’s dragging herself to the corner, barely able to crawl, her arms and elbows all scraped up. I take it all in at once, but finally, my attention lands on the swaying, threatening form of my father standing over her, his fist pulled back like he’s ready to land another punch.
“You, fucker!” I should’ve done this a long time ago. With my hand on his collar, I yank back hard enough to knock him off balance. He stumbles backward and lands on his ass, sputtering and cursing, his face red, sweat beading at his temples, his eyes wide and wild. “How dare you?” he bellows, but that’s all he’s able to get out before a kick to his stomach knocks the wind out of him. He doubles over, curling in a ball, groaning in pain.
It’s not enough pain. It’s not even close to enough. This motherfucker. He ruined all of our lives, his included, but God forbid he ever take responsibility for that. No, he consoles himself by punishing everybody else. Including this girl in front of him who never hurt a single soul.
All of that and more races through my head as I drop to one knee and haul him up by his collar again. There’s a second where our eyes meet—I want him to know exactly why I’m doing this. I need him to see how much I loathe him and how much fun I’m going to have doing this. There is nothing like the satisfaction of finally landing a blow against his jaw. The rush that comes over me is addictive, and I’m laughing by the time I punch him again, putting all my force behind it, all the pain, missing Mom, holding Tia while she cried, hiding her from the worst of his rages. All of it and so much more flows through me as I begin systematically beating the ever-loving shit out of him. My fist will hurt later, but right now, there’s nothing but joy racing through me as every blow draws blood, makes him groan pitifully.
It’s still not enough. “I should fucking kill you!” I scream, my face close enough to his that my spit hits his skin. “How dare you touch her?” It’s so satisfying, the sound his head makes when I slam it against the concrete floor.
“No! You’re killing him!” Even now, Wren finds the strength to make me stop. Not that I care if I killed him, but I care about what it would do to Tia. And I wouldn’t want Wren to witness it, either. Reality seeps back into my rage-fueled thoughts and calms me enough that I can see what a mistake it would be to continue.
He groans and rolls to the side once I’ve let him go, covering his head with his folded arms, sipping air carefully like he is in a fuck-ton of pain. Still not enough, but if I start again, I won’t be able to stop.
There are things that matter more. Like checking her out, making a list of what he did. Her bottom lip is split, swelling so much she can’t speak clearly. The blood dripping onto her chin is ugly, but not nearly as ugly as her left eye now that it’s turned purple and started to swell shut.
“I’m okay,” she whispers, taking my hands, holding them still when I try to touch her face. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve guessed this would happen. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You couldn’t have. You didn’t know.”
