Page 23 of Undefeated

“Now you wanna lie,” he said as he tipped his beer can up to his mouth.

“Back talk me and lie. Somebody has been up in this bitch. My fuckin’ beer is gone. Now tell me who,” he demanded.

“No one,” I repeated. He was scaring me. I really didn’t want to be hit.

“Then where’s my beer?” he screamed.

Sometimes we make decisions and we think that the decisions we make are to our benefit. Other times, we make decisions and at the time we make them, they seem to be what makes sense, and later we find out they weren’t such a good idea. Being able to discern the good decisions from the bad decisions, in advance, would be priceless.

“I drank them,” I said.

“How you gonna pay to replace them, you dumb whore? I knew you were drinkin’ my beers. Probably drank that fuckin’ Jack too, didn’t ya?”

I nodded.

I didn’t see it coming, but I felt the impact. His hand his my face so hard that everything went black. I spun in a circle, and landed on the floor. When I could see again I was on the floor, and he was hovering over me, his fists clenched.

“You can drink my beers and pay me for ‘em. But no one fucks with my Jack. You know that. I knew you drank it you little drunken whore,” he screamed as he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me to my feet.

“Josh, no. I didn’t drink them,” I cried, my hair pulled tight by his left hand.

“Well, either way, you’re lying. You said you did, you said you didn’t. One’s a lie,” he stuffed a cookie in his mouth and took a drink of beer.

Smack!

He hit me harder than he has ever hit me before. I don’t know what he hit me with or where it impacted me, but my mouth hurt terribly. I could taste blood. I pushed the back of my teeth with my tongue. One was loose.

I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry. My lips felt ten times bigger than normal. As I cried and sobbed, he pulled me toward the refrigerator by my hair. Grabbing the back of my hair in his hand, he opened the refrigerator door and shoved my head inside.

“How many beers you see up in this motherfucker?” he screamed.

I blinked and looked inside. I could see nothing. My eyes wouldn’t focus.

“Four,” I guessed.

“See any Jack?” he screamed.

“No,” I answered.

He pulled me down to the floor by my hair and shoved me with his hand, sending me across the floor on my back. I relaxed on the floor, lying on my back crying. I turned my head to the side so I could still see him. The pain in my face and mouth was unbearable.

I watched his halo as he reached into the refrigerator. I heard him open another beer and take a very long series of drinks.

“Know why?” he asked.

“Why what?” I asked.

“What the fuck we talking about, you dumb cunt?” he screamed.

“Josh, I don’t know. I’m scared. You hit me, I’m hurt and bleeding. Please…”

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re bleedin’. The Jack! The fucking Jack Daniels, Kace. You know why you don’t see it?” he screamed.

“No?” I answered, confused.

“Cause you drunk it,” he screamed.

I saw the blur of his boot and thought he was stepping over me to go to the other room.