Page 23 of Hope and Country

“Don’t even think about running, Devon, or that will be the last time you see the light of the day.”

Even his voice had turned satanic. Deprived of any goodness.

Every organ in my body hurt. And they hadn’t even received penance yet.

I hid my hands in the sleeves of my green sweater—my favorite one—the moment Robbie’s fingers gripped the fabric and he tugged me forward, my feet not touching the floor for a second or two.

He threw me on the hardwood surface, and my head took a hit. For a minute, dark spots danced in my vision, and I couldn’t register the words leaving my stepbrother’s mouth. A kick landed in my ribs, taking my breath away. And another one. Soon I came back to my senses and folded my arms over my face, trying to protect it from the hits. Robbie didn’t have the same decency as his dad to spare everything above my neckline. He yelled at me, called me names, but I heard nothing. I lowered one arm to hold my ribs, and Robbie used that distraction to spit on my face.

Tears welled but refused to leave my eyes.

The next thing I knew, I was hauled in the air and pushed against the wall, his strong hand encircling my throat, making it impossible for me to drag any oxygen in.

With all my might, I kicked out at him. In vain.

In a desperate attempt to get some help, I tried to cry. To scream. To beg. But Robbie’s hard grip crushed my airways.

Just when I became lightheaded and thought I’d faint, he dropped me on the floor like a ragdoll and slapped my face.

He pulled at my sweater, fisting the fabric until it ripped to drag me from the entryway to the living room, and I bumped my head on something hard in the wake.

A tingly sensation in my lower face told me my lips and jaw were swelling.

More tears prickled my eyes. But none escaped their prison.

For a moment, I wished I could die. Then this would stop. Forever. Was it how my mother felt? The strongest part of me wanted to fight. To defeat the monster. To find a way out of this misery. To seek refuge elsewhere. Somewhere Robbie could never find me. Far from here.

But another part of me, the weak one, prayed this would be the last time. That I would never wake up from it and never have to relive another of his violent episodes ever again. That some god would hear and answer my plea.

I forced my brain to come back into the present.

From above, my stepbrother insulted me—but I registered none of his words—pushing with his shoe into my already sore ribcage.

The survivor part of me kicked in.

The strongest part won the battle in my head.

I would fight. I would win this. And I would never let him hurt me ever again.

This had to stop. For good. I wouldn’t be another victim.

I would beat the beast. And emerge on the other side stronger. Wiser. Braver.

My brain processed my new mission. If I survived this attack, it would be the last time Robbie assaulted me.

Like I’d seen the animals who sensed danger do in a documentary about wildlife and ignoring the aching throbs of my body, I lay on the floor as if Robbie had kicked the life out of me. Inert. All my focus was on keeping my breaths slow and superficial.

When I didn’t react to his onslaught, he stepped back. I could feel the heat of his gaze on me. It burned my skin as if he’d used a scorching poker to brand me. Like his promise to tattoo his words on my forehead.

I begged my tears to resorb themselves. To not betray me. Once more. One last time.

“Are you fucking dead, sis?” Robbie slurred. “Oh God, you’re even more useless than I thought. What the fuck. Don’t you dare die on me. You’re all I have to get through this darkness, Devon. The only one remaining. Everyone else has left me. Don’t you die. Don’t fucking leave me too. I just can’t take it anymore. How will I survive without you?”

Now there was no mistake; Robbie was crying. Weeping.

“My mom, Harry, your mom, my wife. They all abandoned me. And they all loved you more than they ever loved me. Harry never called me his precious child. Or the apple of his eyes. He favored you. They all did. They saw you as a saint. But no fucking saint got fucked by a guy in a bar and played slut at a star-studded party. They were wrong. And like a fool, I protected ya. For what? You turned your back on me too. If you’d ever loved me, you wouldn’t have needed to flirt with assholes. You would have known I was all you needed. That I loved ya. I fucking did. But one day you’ll leave me too. And I can’t let it happen. So, don’t die. Do you hear me?” he hollered. “Do you hear me, sis? You’re not allowed to die. I’m the boss of ya. I’ll always be. And you won’t ever get to leave me. That I promise you. You’ll never leave me. Because I won’t let you.”

Pushing my emotions down as far as I could, I lay still, my body at a weird angle, my ribs hurting like hell, but doing my best to not show any signs of life in me.