Chapter 5
5
JAYDEN
8 years old
“Suck my dick,” Cole says, smashing the keys on the Gameboy.
A cold feeling fills me, and I smack his hand. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”
“Fuck, Jay, don’t make me mess up.” Cole focuses intently on the screen and leans into the game, missing a stack of blocks on the lineup. His blonde hair flops into his eyes. It’s always long and untrimmed, bleached from the summer sun. The screen flashes, and Cole’s score fills the background.
“Son of a crack whore.” Cole throws his arms back dramatically. “You’re beating me every time.”
I swallow roughly.
I know Cole is losing on purpose. He asked me why I’d been so quiet recently and if I wanted to play. He also asked about my black eye. I told him it came from a kid at school. He’s in the grade below me, so he doesn’t know any better.
“You gonna play?” Cole asks, looking at me hopefully.
I manage a smile. I’ll try to play along. I can’t stand to see him upset.
I play the next round and get more points than him. Cole throws himself against the couch dramatically again. Despite myself, I crack a tiny smirk, which only encourages Cole more. He gets more and more dramatic, drawing more of a reaction from me.
I never laugh. Not recently, anyway.
A rich voice rips through the house. “Why in the hell is it so loud in here?”
I jump, my stomach immediately in my throat. Pat stands in the doorway, and instantly, I stop playing.
Pat stalks in. He looks happy, which is never a good thing.
“Who the fuck left the back door open?”
Silence. I see Cole’s face fall from the corner of my eye.
Before he can say anything, I say, “I did.”
Cole sucks in a breath, and I reach my hand down to pinch his thigh. I’ve done everything I can to keep Pat away from him recently. I’ve seen him watching Cole with the same eyes he gives me.
I feel sick.
“Really,” Pat says dryly.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. You think I’m trying to keep the whole neighborhood cool? AC isn’t cheap.” Pat steps closer. “Get the hell upstairs.”
I move to obey, but Cole puts his hand out. “Jay–”
“Fuck off,” I hiss. Maybe all Pat will do is whoop me. If that’s it, I don’t care. I can handle a whooping.
I move to the steps, and Pat hesitates, looking back at Cole. For a moment, pure terror runs through me. He’s going to target Cole.
I need to do something. Anything.
I try to speak, but my body is locked in fear. I’m frozen.
I can’t move. Why can’t I move?
Pat stares at Cole, watching him. His light blue eyes look him up and down, and I want to throw up.
Finally, Pat turns to me. “Get the fuck upstairs, boy.”
I jump to obey. I practically fly up the stairs, and Pat follows me to his room.
“You know, I try to raise you better than this.” He shuts the door behind us and slowly pulls his belt from the loops. “Try to be the father you never had.”
I might throw up. I’ve never seen Pat look at Cole like that. I should have distracted him. Shouted something. Hit him. Run. Anything.
But all I did was stand there.
“Turn around.”
I obey. I pull my shirt off, staring at the wall. I will him to get this over with and lean my stomach against the bed like he always asks. Like a zombie, I obey without a fight. Like always.
Pat lays the belt into me, whooping my back and ass with all his strength. Sometimes, he gets his belt wet to make it hurt more, but not today. The more of a reaction I give him, the harder he hits, so I stay silent.
When he’s done, Pat runs his hands over the welts.
“Now, now, what am I going to do with you, Jayden? I don’t think you were being honest with me.”
I can’t keep the shiver off my hot skin. Fuck.
Pat chuckles. It’s throaty and deep, and I always thought he sounded like Santa. Now, I can’t stand the holiday.
“I think Cole left that door open. Think he shouldn’t have that stupid fucking game that distracts you guys so much. Then maybe I wouldn’t lose so much goddamn money raising ungrateful brats.”
My heart sinks. Cole loves that game.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
Pat chuckles like he does when he senses weakness.
Fuck. I’ve fucked up. I clear my throat.
“Hmmm.” Pat continues rubbing. My skin is on fire from the belt, and his light touch feels good—and I hate that.
“Are you willing to take the consequences for that door?”
I grit my teeth. I just got the consequences. Pat’s hands run lower, tracing over my ass and thighs.
It’s like my voice is trapped. All I want to do is scream yes. To say I’ll take it. To fight him. To get out of here.
Pat laughs; his chuckle is hearty and deep. “Good boy. Good fucking boy. Despite everything, I love you, Jayden. I really do.”
The rip of his zipper follows, and I completely disassociate, doing nothing. I can’t do anything. I’m stuck. Frozen.
Fucking silent.