“You think you can just walk back inside whenever you want? You’ll be sleeping out there from now on or you’ll be sleeping in the dorms at Hanson’s with the other wastrel cunts!”He yells totally oblivious to our audience, but I’m not going to tell him. My only concern is getting the kids ready, so I rush through the house checking for Casey with Aiden hot on my heels. I find her in the bathroom with her diaper hanging at her ankles, playing in the toilet water. She looks up as I sweep in and grins wide. I immediately put my finger to my lips and warn her to“shhh.”First task: change Casey’s diaper.
The ever-present white noise of Dad cussing me out plays in the background like the theme song to my life.
“…waste of fucking space. You ruined everything! I fucking drained money into feeding you, clothing you, sending you to that shitty school. You could have been making me a small fortune by now. Though, I should have made your mother kill you before you had the fucking chance to be born. You waste of FUCKING AIR!”
His anger builds with every vile word he yells. There’s a menacing thrum of discordance in the air; an energy that chokes. The words are nothing new to me. I’ve heard them all before. I should leave before he decides kicking my arse is worth getting out of bed for.
I finish attaching the sticky strips of Casey’s new diaper, grab a pile of wipes, a spare towel, and her powder, roll it all up together and tuck it tight under my arm. Then attach Casey to my hip and rush her through to the boy’s bedroom where Mum keeps all of their clothes.
I launch a t-shirt to each of the boys and a clean pair of shorts. “Get dressed. Be quiet and fast.” They do a slow job of dressingthemselves but at least they get the task started while I take care of Casey.
Aiden stands guard in the hallway, blocking the area directly in front of Dad’s door so we have a clean line of escape. There’s a permanence to this that has my stomach knotting. There’ll be no going back to normal now that I’ve let strangers intervene.
Ugh. Think later. Kids first.
As soon as Casey is dressed, I help the boys and notice neither of them wants to look at me. I know why and I’ll clear it all up once we are free of this dump, but for now, I let it slide.
Their shoes, as usual, are missing. TJ has one on and no sign of the other and AJ looks like he’ll be going barefoot. Casey, for once, actually helps me out by sitting pretty and not trying to undress herself the second the buttons are fixed on her dress.
Dad continues shouting from his room. I only have minutes before he brings the argument to me.
“It’s been a horrible morning, but I promised you a trip to the park.” They don’t respond. AJ rams a toy truck into the wall beside him; not hard enough to make noise, but enough that I see his fingers are deliberately getting crushed too. “AJ, stop. It wasn’t your fault, boys. I love you both and think you deserve ice cream for being so brave today. You in?” I whisper as enthusiastically as I can. TJ’s face lights up and even Casey claps her hands with excitement. AJ checks for lies. I watch him run his little eyes all over my face and then when he sees it’s the truth, he agrees.
Did he learn that from me?
“Okay. Great. I need you boys to march into the living room like little soldiers and stand by the door. I will find your shoes and you can put them on in the elevator, okay?” It’s a game I play with them to keep them engaged and responsive. They perform mini secret missions or go on patrols when I manage to take them out. The game seems to perk AJ up and boosts both boys with a little extra pep. Casey continues her clapping. The minute I mention shoes, AJ flicks a nervous glance under his bed. He probably hidthe ones Dad made him wear under there. But if he never wants to put them on again, that’s fine by me. His sneakers should be around somewhere.
“Good, ready? Three, two, one…march.” They jump up and straighten their backs, marching in synchronicity to the door. I scoop up Casey and pull a few extra things into my towel bundle, including TJ’s missing shoe—which he’d been sitting on—and a change of clothes. It never matters where we go, one of them inevitably gets mussed up.
Casey’s diaper bag hangs on the back of the sofa, still fully stocked from the last time we were out, so I know I’m safe to just grab it and go. A tiny pair of blue shoes peek out of the opening. I probably put them there for safekeeping because AJ has a habit of kicking off his shoes the second we get into the Tower. Even before we hit the elevator, he’ll have the laces loose and one or both shoes off his feet. I can’t blame him. I suspect they’re too small for him. AJ is a couple of inches taller than TJ. It wouldn’t surprise me to find his feet have grown.
“Aiden, there are bottles on the rack in the kitchen. Can you grab one for Casey and two screw lid ones for the twins? I’ll fill them up while we are out.” The gruff sentry nods and hustles to the kitchen. His feet tentatively pick a route over the smashed bread and mess still lingering from this morning. Will he ask about it or connect the dots for himself?
The creaking yawn of Dad’s bedroom door tells me I’m out of time.
Reaching over the boys, I open the front door expecting to find Dax, but the corridor is deserted. I sit Casey on the floor with the bag pinning her to the wall and tell the boys to “stand guard over the princess.”I don’t get to say much more because I’m yanked inside with the door slamming shut behind me. The kids are alone, but at least he can’t threaten me with them this time.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“I need to get the kids,” I argue, struggling to point back tothe door.
“They can fucking wait. You owe me an answer.”
Iowe him? What the fuck do I owe him? I’m sick of being told I owe him. Money, respect, my silence, my submission, he gets it all and deserves none of it. Sure, I fight back but mostly I stay quiet for an easy life. For Mum who doesn’t need another cracked rib or for the kids who didn’t need to see yet another act of violence in their home. But after today, I know my efforts were a waste of time. With them outside, or maybe it’s the culmination of the last twenty-four hours, I suddenly don’t give a shit about an easy life. Fuck it, when has it ever been easy?
“Do you know what?” I spit, squaring my shoulders. “I owe you shit!” The force of his hand across my face spins my head so fast I expect it to go all the way around. He says nothing, only staring at me with a look that dares me to make him do it again. So, I do.
“You make me sick; do you know that? You literally make me retch. You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being, and you don’t deserve what you have.” The second slap stings a little worse. It’s delivered with precision. I wince but don’t stop running my mouth despite the fact he’s grinning, and his eyes are alight with the pleasure he gets from being cruel.
“You done?” He laughs.
“Not nearly. I saved a man’s life last night. I stood there with my finger in his chest and gave him the chance to survive despite some arsehole trying to take that from him. And then I come home to this…this house…this hovel and this fucked up life where you act as though you’re king almighty. When do I get to survive? Why is it I can save him, but not the people I love?” Another slap sends spots dancing in front of my eyes, but he lets me continue to talk. “You think you’re tough? You’re shit. You are a fucking loser; a coward and the worst part is I think you know it!”
He lifts his hand and takes the liberty of showing me his fingers curling into a fist so I know what’s coming. But I’m not afraid. I’m tired, but no longer afraid of him and if my mother won’tleave this place, well that isn’t my problem anymore. He pulls his hand back. I take a breath and glare straight at his face, ready for the punch.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, Aiden holds my father’s wrist in a vice tight grip. I didn’t even notice him enter the room.
