What indiscretion?
They are embarrassed of me.
I am a disgrace to him, to both of them.
My father isn’t really my father.
I don’t hear the footsteps approaching over repeating words in my head, so I freeze at the sight of my parents turning the corner, staring down at me, as I catch my panicked breath.
My mother looks at my father with wide-eyes and a fear within them that I’ve never seen before.
“What did you hear?” my father asks through gritted teeth.
My voice box is broken. The words don’t come out when I try to speak. I have been swimming upstream for years, fighting to be heard, to feel important to this family. And today, I am truly speechless. All the years of feeling insignificant, having my dreams and desires overshadowed by their own, muting me. They’ve finally succeeded.
My father grabs my shoulders and pushes me up against the wall. The impact knocks what little oxygen that is left out of my body.
“You will say nothing of this, Ember. Nothing!”
I stare into his eyes blankly. The only thing that shines clearly through the fogginess is the deranged madness behind them. He cares about nothing except his image. I don’t need to see my mother’s eyes to know they would mirror his own. Except hers would be terrified. Terrified to lose everything she’s worked so hard to portray. The luxury, the life, the opulence of wealth and status.
“Ember!” He shakes me and slams me back against the wall, attempting to snap me out of my mental comatose. “I will not have your whore mother and her bastard child make me look bad in my own goddamn town. Do you understand that?”
I remain silent. My body is unable to respond, lacking anyunderstanding of all that has unfolded. My gaze returns to the floor, as it usually does in the presence of my father.
With one of his hands still pressing me against the wall, he begins to raise the other. I look up just in time for the back of his hand to connect with the side of my face, and the sensation is splintering. A thousand needles explode on my face, and the pressure behind my eyes forces them shut. A metallic taste explodes in my mouth, and I’m instantly stupefied.
Suddenly, the force that was holding me up is gone, and I collapse to the floor. My father is tackled to the ground. Hudson’s size favors him as he hovers over my father, holding him down, swinging his arm, as his fist collides with my father’s face over and over, like a video on a constant loop.
Benson comes to my side, inspecting me. His face is blurred as I can barely see him from behind my soggy eyes. A fog outlines the surroundings behind him, and nothing is clear.
“Ember! Ember, are you okay?” Benson cups my cheeks, turning my face to the side as he cringes at the sight.
“Fuck,” he whispers to himself.
“Hudson!” Cody’s voice screams through the invisible fog in the air. He’s saying more, but sounds like a muffled white noise, or maybe that’s just the ringing in my ears.
Cody bearhugs Hudson, trapping his flailing arms, and yanks him off of my father, who’s curled up with his arms over his face, also screaming inaudible words. My father’s legs kick at Hudson while Cody pulls him away, but Cody turns his body between them and gets struck with the bottom of my father’s pristine Oxfords, right in the middle of his back. He grunts and falls forward, releasing Hudson as they both tumble to the ground.
I blink slowly. My eyelids are filled with lead and the sounds are deafening. Everything is so loud, but somehow dulled.
Cody’s arm wraps behind his back as his face winces in pain.
Hudson crawls to me, cradling me in his arms. My body melts into his like a perfectly fitting comfort blanket.
With my face nuzzled into Hudson’s chest, I hear Bobby before I see him. He’s helping my father, attempting to pull him away, but my father is having none of that and he is challenging everyone now.
His voice is laced with so much hate and anger. He’s usually uninterested, arrogant, and condescending, but always controlled. This is now the voice of a frantic, terrified man that is being exposed, and the lack of control is killing him.
“Get your hands off me,” he shouts. I turn my neck enough to see him circling his arm to snuff off Bobby’s grasp, then press his hands to Bobby’s chest, pushing him away but still egging him on with words.
“You want to fight me, boy?”
“Dad, stop!” Bobby’s hands are up in surrender.
“You fucking pussy.” Disgust drips from his words like a loose faucet as he lunges at Bobby.
“Bobby!” Elliot’s voice cracks as he rounds the corner, then comes to an instant stop. His eyes bounce around the room, landing on mine. A look of sorrow passes over his face before he turns to look at my father and Bobby.
