Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I told you,” John wheezes, trying to loosen the hold on his neck. “He doesn’t want nothin’ to do with me. Haven’t seen him in years.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. Tell. Me.”
“Fuck you,” my dad says before spitting at him.
Before I can get to them, David’s face contorts with rage, and his elbow cocks back before nailing John square in the face. He hits him one, two, three more times as I charge in their direction, both oblivious to my presence.
Coming up behind David, I sucker punch him to the side of the head, and he goes down like a ton of fucking bricks. I jump on him, raining blow after blow to his face, head, stomach, anywhere I can.
Three years and fifty pounds later, I can finally hold my own against him. I’m not the malnourished kid I once was.
“I gotta say, I didn’t see this coming,” David says. “It’s touching, really.” He laughs, and I hit him again, but he doesn’t seem fazed. A sound from my left distracts me, and I look over to see my dad struggling to get to his feet. David jumps on the opportunity, striking my jaw with his fist. Flipping me onto my back and straddling me, he gets the upper hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see John pull himself up, using the arm of the recliner as leverage. I take another hit to the eye, then the mouth, before I hear the unmistakable sound of a pistol cocking.
David freezes with his fist mid-air, and I give him a deranged smile through bloodstained teeth. I shove him backward with both of my palms, and then I stand above him.
“How does it feel?” I ask, my voice calm and steady. “How does it feel to be on the receiving end?” I give a swift kick to his ribs, and he clutches his side, the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh.
“I want my money,” he wheezes.
I laugh, shaking my head. “How about a bullet instead?”
“Just give me the fucking money, and I’ll leave,” David says, not making any attempt to get up.
“If I wasn’t sick, I’d beat you to a bloody pulp for touching my kid,” John says, his gun still trained on David.
It’s David’s turn to chuckle. “That’s fucking rich coming from you.”
“How about this?” I interrupt before David gets himself shot. By the look in my dad’s eyes, I know it’s not out of the question. “You get the fuck out. Forget the money, and I’ll forget the fact that I know all about your extracurricular activities.” His mouth drops open in shock. “Yeah, you didn’t think this through, did you?” I squat, not-too-gently stubbing two fingers against his forehead. “How many warrants do you have out for your arrest, anyway? You thought just because I didn’t speak that I wasn’t listening? I know details, David. Names. Locations. And if you come back here again, I’ll sing like a goddamn canary.”
My dad looks between us, thoroughly confused, but he doesn’t let his guard down. He jerks the gun in the direction of the door, and David scrambles to his feet.
“This isn’t over,” he warns, and then he’s gone.
“I guess there’s a lot you haven’t told me,” my dad says, tiredly collapsing back into his recliner, like it’s just another Tuesday night.
“Your brother likes to steal cars and sell them for parts. Among other things.”
I even did it with him for a while. I was pissed off at the world, and the money was too tempting to pass up. Except I never saw a fucking dime. He kept me indebted to him by buying me nice cars, phones, shoes, whatever. It was nice not to have to worry about where my next meal came from for once, but I wanted my cut, and I told him that. He made excuses at first. It was always something. But still, I did his bidding. I was the youngest and the fastest. He could tell I was pulling away, and he started to lose it.
And then when I really wanted out, he got pissed that I wasn’t doing his dirty work anymore. He and his lowlife friends took turns beating the shit out of me, not even stopping when I vomited from the pain. When they were finally done, I was unable to move, unable to open my eyes. I’m pretty sure he thought I was dead. He left me for dead.
I lay there, bleeding in the dirt, in a pile of my own puke, until the sun set and rose again. Once I could walk, I hobbled back to David’s house when I knew he’d be gone and stole his chunk of cash. Booked a cheap hotel room for a few nights until I could move without being in pain and then took a cab to the bus station. When the lady asked for my destination, I told her I didn’t care. I just needed the first bus out of there. I met Dare on the bus, and the rest is history.