Page 171 of His Reckoning

Kayla’s glass lowers slowly to the table. “What do you mean … the first time?”

I look down at the scars on my hands. “The first time he shoved me into a wall.”

Silence settles over the room. Kayla doesn’t rush to fill it. She just reaches out slowly and places her hand over mine.

“And it got worse after that?” she asks gently.

I nod once. “Every time I pushed back.”

I take another sip of whiskey.

“He’d tell me I was arrogant. Ungrateful. That I thought I was smarter than him.”

Kayla shakes her head slightly. “You were just trying to help.”

“Yeah.” I stare at the floor. “He didn’t see it that way.”

A few seconds pass before she asks the question I know is coming.

“What about the scars?”

My chest tightens. I stare into the whiskey for a long second.

I close my eyes briefly, then take another drink.

Finally, I reply quietly, “That came later.”

The words sit between us for a moment. Kayla doesn’t rush to fill the silence, which somehow makes it harder to keep talking.

“How much later?” she asks gently.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Six months maybe.”

Her brow furrows. “Six months?”

“Yeah.”

The kitchen comes back to me in flashes.

“At first, it was just … anger.”

“Anger?” she repeats quietly.

“Shoving. Grabbing me by the collar. Slamming me into things when we argued.”

Kayla’s fingers tighten slightly around my hand. “You were a kid.”

“Didn’t matter to him.” I stare down at the floor. “He’d keep telling me I thought I was better than him.”

“And you didn’t think that?”

I glance at her. The corner of her mouth lifts just slightly.

I huff a quiet breath. “Maybe a little.”

“Fifteen-year-old prodigy with a computer,” she says. “That’s dangerous.”

“That’s what he thought.”