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Gently bouncing Abel, I try my best to calm him down.
His little hands grab at me, clinging to me, and his tears soak my shirt.
After a few seconds, he tips his head back, his watery eyes peering up at me.
And maybe it’s my own fucked up head, but I swear he’s asking me why I’m doing this to him.
Why I’m not doing better for him.
“If you want money for food and diapers, you’ll have to figure it out. I’m done being your fucking bank,” Kyle says from the doorway.
I turn and stare at him in disbelief.
“Your free ride is over,” he sneers at me like he expects his words to hurt me.
Abel starts to wail again, and I’m so distraught, so fucking upset, it takes me a second to realize I’m squeezing him too hard.
I immediately let up on my grip and rub Abel’s back in apology.
Kissing the top of his head, I murmur, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.
Narrowing his eyes, Kyle glares at me then down at Abel with pure loathing.
How a father can look at his son like he does confounds me. It’s like he feels nothing for him at all. Nothing but the inconvenience.
“Maybe if you ask nice enough, your mother will share her corner,” Kyle says in one last parting jab before he turns and slams the bedroom door behind him.
I wish I could flip the switch inside me again but I can’t. Not with Abel needing me.
My blood boils with fury and I want to scream. I want to rage like Kyle did.
I don’t care what he said about me and I certainly don’t care about what he said about my mother.
But to disregard your own son, your own flesh and blood, in such a way infuriates me. If I wasn’t holding Abel, I’d chase after him. I’d take him on, regardless of the consequences.
If I only had the damn strength, I’d give him the beatdown of the century.
But I have nothing.
I’m stuck.
Trapped in this hellish prison.
Abel whimpers and tugs on my shirt.
Despair hits me like a punch in the gut.
What am I doing? What can I do?
How the fuck do I get us out of this mess?
How many more times can I go through this?
Looking down at Abel, I try my best to put on a strong face. I try my damnedest to smile for him, but it splinters across my lips.
This is all he’s ever known. All he’ll ever know. And he doesn’t even understand anything yet.
What will growing up in this house do to him?
