The asshole doesn’t deserve to see them.
“I hope you learned your lesson, boy. Never lay your hands on someone ever again.” He fixes his crooked tie with thick fingers that I long to cut off and throw into a creek to become fish food, then fish shit. My blood boils at the sight of his busted and bloody knuckles as he ensures his stupid tie is perfectly in place. “Hitting isn’t okay. No matter the situation.”
I glare at him from beneath my lashes. Of course he would be a hypocrite about it. Hitting isn’t okay unless you’re him. Then sure, it’s totally okay.
I suppress rolling my eyes. That’ll only piss him off even more. I won’t be eleven years old for long. Soon I’ll become an adult, and we’ll see how he feels when I make him pay for all the beatings and mistreatment toward me.
I swipe my nose and mouth with the back of my hand, removing the blood coating my skin as I straighten to my full height. Adrenaline rushes through my veins like poison as I imagine strangling my stepfather. He’s a terrible person who doesn’t deserve to breathe.
Ihatehim. I hate that he beats me up and that no one ever does anything about it. It’s so obvious that my stepfather abuses me, so my mother can’t claim she doesn’t know about it. Madison is oblivious and would most likely deny that her precious father would ever do something like this to me. It’s just me, myself, and I at this point. I can’t depend on anyone. My friends know about the shit Jerry does to me, but they can’t do anything about it either.
My stepfather turns his glare to me, as though he can hear my thoughts. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
His meaning: go to my room in the pool house located in the backyard. My mother thinks I want to be in the pool house. Jerry lied to her, saying that I asked to be out there.
What the fuck kind of logic is that?
He doesn’t want me to be part of his picture-perfect family. Jerry wants all traces of my existence gone. He wants my stain removed from the image.
I scowl at him one last time and leave his office. I cut through the empty living room, then open the back door. As soon as I get outside, I’m met with a sweltering September heat that stings the cuts on my face. The sun sits on the horizon asit sets for the evening, turning the sky deep shades of orange and pink, with hints of blue. Any normal person would marvel at the beauty, but I ignore it. I’m too fucked-up to really enjoy anything these days.
That’s a lie. There’s one thing I enjoy looking at.
I shake my head to get rid of the trail my thoughts were about to take. I’m not going down that path again.
Gentle waves lap against the in-ground pool’s edge. The underwater lights cut on as dusk shifts to darkness, turning the water into a teal color my mother loves because it reminds her so much of the tropic beaches. Madison sits on the opposite side of the pool, her long legs gently kicking back and forth to create ripples in the water. She bows her head as she watches her legs, as if it’s more entertaining to her than anything else.
My steps falter. She never pays attention when I steal glances at her, and that’s for the best. The shock wears off, and all that’s left is the anger churning the contents inside my stomach.
Anyone associated with me always winds up getting hurt in some way. My friends don’t care because they have their own things to deal with at home and school, but Madison’s different. If I give her an ounce of attention, it’ll put a target on her back. That’s the last thing I want, even though I hate her because of her dad.
Her choice of friends doesn’t help matters, either. I don’t know how she can be friends with those assholes and be okay with them bullying kids at our school. How can she be okay with the way my friends and I are treated?
I stride toward the stairs to go to the pool house under the deck. Madison looks up. I ignore her and descend the steps, then storm to my bedroom and swing the door open. It shuts behind me with a reverberating thud.
Not five seconds later, there’s a timid knock. I know it’s Madison, because who else would knock on the door? My mother never comes out here, and my stepfather barges in to punish me for whatever reason he deems worthy. So that leaves my stepsister, who has a knack for staring at me.
Since we were first introduced, she’s tried talking to me. She’s even attempted to include me when she plays board games with her aunt, who lives with us in the main house. Every time she does, I pay her no attention.
Madison knocks on the door again. I step further into the room that’s been painted black and looks like a normal bedroom except for the pool supplies I shoved in the corner. Clothes are strewn across the floor and my bed is unmade, but I don’t care. What’s the point of tidying everything when no one comes in here except for me and occasionally Jerry?
I have no sense of privacy since I moved in after my mother married Jerry. All I want is to be left alone and to have a space that isn’t violated.
Madison knocks once more, grating on my already frayed nerves.
“Go away,” I grumble beneath my breath. I don’t care if she can’t hear me. It should be obvious by now that I don’t want anything to do with her.
“Can I come in?”
I drop onto the mattress and close my eyes as I bury my face in my pillow. The day’s events finally hit me. I could sleep for a week because of how exhausted I am. The fight at school drained all of my energy, and after seeing Jerry in his office, I feel like death on legs.
Why did I fight Mickey?
I’m not sure, but something about seeing him hurt my stepsister sent me over the edge. If there’s anyone who’s allowedto hurt her, it should be me.Ishould be the one who punishes her.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I ignore Madison’s attempt to talk to me. There’s nothing to say to her.
