Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
JESSIE
I knew from the moment I saw the time that I was screwed. It was past nine at night, and my curfew was over three hours ago.
It wasn’t like it mattered though. It wasn’t like I was coming home for any reason, like for food or a hot shower before school the next day.
There was never any food.
The bent wheels on my bike rotated more slowly the closer I got to home. I didn’t want to go back, and I wouldn’t ever if it wasn’t for my mom. She needed me to help her to bed each night, but lately, I had been more there to stop the beatings from Dad.
Last night, I’d stepped in front of one of his hardest punches yet. My ribs ached real bad from that, but I tried not to let it show.
He was smart. He only ever took his anger out in places where we could cover the bruises.
There was a Wendy’s across the road from our street, and I was hungry.
While I had been at my friend’s house tonight, his mom had offered me dinner, but I had been too proud to accept, even though I was losing weight.
I pulled a couple of cents out of my pants pocket, nowhere near enough to cover a burger or fries. But that didn’t stop me from crossing the street and heading toward the drive-through.
I’d done this a couple of times and risked being caught on security cameras each time. But I figured, What the hell? They can lock me up and fucking feed me at the same time.
I pulled my hood up and over my head; it hung low enough to hide my identity. And I waited at the back of the dark parking lot. The restaurant wasn’t busy, but when a car finally pulled up to place an order, I knew that was my chance.
Sometimes, I couldn’t pull it off because they parked too close to the serving hatch. But the woman driving had overshot it. She was in a brand-new Mercedes, which stood out in this part of town. I was sure she had a few more dollars to replace her meal.
As she placed her order, my legs trembled as I pushed on my pedals and edged toward the back of the car, still camouflaged by the darkness.
It was now or never. My chance to eat or go another night hungry.
Whatever was at home, I wasn’t going to get a chance at. The only thing waiting for me was a beating, and my best shot at defending myself was to keep growing so that one day, I’d have a chance at knocking the fucker out.
Twelve-year-old Jessie stood no chance.
But sixteen-year-old Jessie might. And I couldn’t wait for the day I could give it back to him.
Handing over the cash, the woman waited for her meal.
I knew the server could see me if they looked to the side, but I had to take my chances, and so I edged even closer, the bright lights from the drive-through stinging my eyes.
“Okay, here we are. I have a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry sh ? —”
I took off just as the server leaned out the window with the food, snatching it as I raced past the window. My heart thumped wildly in my chest; pure adrenaline raced through my body.
“Hey, what the hell?!” the server shouted after me, but it was too late.
I was gone, taking a right along the sidewalk and back into the safety of the night.
When I found a playing field, I pulled behind a row of trees and dropped my bike down out of sight.
I’d done it. I’d pulled it off.
Tonight, I’d get to eat.
I’d thought tonight was my lucky night.
Hot food and no one around when I got home.
That was how I liked it.
Even my mom wasn’t on the couch when I walked in the front door.
Maybe she’d not drunk as much tonight. Maybe she was turning a corner.
Hope bloomed in my chest as I made my way to the kitchen and filled a glass with water.
The house was fucking freezing, and I shivered when the ice-cold liquid ran down my throat.
I couldn’t remember the last time my dad had paid for the heating. Not that he had a good job to afford it. Not that any of his wages went toward the family. He either drank, smoked, or gambled it away.
I couldn’t wait for the second I could get a job and have my own money. I’d make sure Mom and I had food every day, and I’d hide every last cent from Dad. Maybe even my dream of making it to the NHL would come true. Mr. Jenkins was pushing me hard in his hockey academy. I needed to stay strong to have a chance as a hockey player and have a shot at escaping this nightmare.
Quietly, I took the stairs one at a time, desperate not to wake them both up. If Dad didn’t notice how late I was, maybe I’d get away with no beating.
Nothing was worse than the end of my dad’s fist.
But I immediately wanted to take that thought back when I opened my bedroom door and saw the bare space.
It was all gone. My bed, my nightstand, even my fucking clothes were gone from the rail they’d hung on in the corner of my room.
Both windows were open, and the icy air clung to my clothes, seeping deep into my bones.
I didn’t understand. Other than Mom, everything else was the same as when I’d left earlier.
“Looking for something, boy?”
I didn’t turn around. I didn’t need to.
The first hit was to the back of my head, knocking me straight off my feet, and I crashed into the bedroom wall.
The second hit was to my ribs, but this time with his foot instead of his fist. I didn’t know how he had done it, but he’d managed to catch me right in the place he’d hit me before. The hit to my stomach caused me to puke, throwing up most of what I’d eaten.
I couldn’t get my breath as I clawed at the floor, trying to get away.
Another hit was coming—I could feel it.
I could tell by the evil way he laughed.
“Fight back, boy. What kind of man are you?”
Tears streamed from my eyes. But not from the fact that my dad was beating down on me. I’d stopped crying about that years ago.
I’d have to love him to care about what he thought of me. What he did to me. Now, the pain was only in the physical torture he handed out.
“Where’s my stuff?” I choked out.
A dark laugh rumbled from his chest. “For every hour you were late, I got rid of a piece of furniture. Last to go was your bed.”
“Where am I going to sleep?” I forced out the words, past the lump forming in my throat. I could taste blood, and I knew I’d bitten my tongue when I hit the wall.
He bent down, close enough so I could smell the booze and nicotine on his breath. “On the floor. Like a fucking rat.” He spit into my hair.
I curled in on myself, willing my body to disappear, for me to vanish into nothing.
I’d be happy if I stayed that way too. Nonexistent.
A sob left my chest. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t let him think he’d won or that I cared.
“Where’s Mom?”
He didn’t reply, turning to walk toward my door. But before he slammed it shut, he faced me, his hand on the door handle. “She’s in the hospital. Consider yourself lucky. I’m tired of having to keep her in line.”
Panic raced through me. “You hurt Mom?”
He spit on the floor in front of him. “She’s fine, but those stairs can really fuck a person up. She needs to be more careful. Don’t even think of trying to sleep on the couch because that’s where I’ll be tonight, listening for you.”
“Why?” I asked, just before the door slammed shut.
I wanted him to leave me the hell alone, but more than that, I wanted him to just tell me why. Why was he so fucking angry with me all the time?
He stalked back into the room and grabbed me hard by the hair, practically ripping it out at the roots.
I squeezed my eyes shut as he brought his face close to mine. I didn’t want to look at him. He was the devil.
“Open your eyes before I cut off your lids!”
I wouldn’t put it past him, so I did.
And when he finally had eye contact, his lips—stained blue from too much alcohol—curled into a sneer. “Because you are an oxygen thief. You had to be the only one, didn’t you? You had to take it all from your twin.”
He dropped my head to the floor with a thud, and I lay still, hoping he wouldn’t come back. Trying to figure out what hurt the most—my ribs, my head, or my right leg as an unbearable ache radiated down to my toes.
But none of that could drown out the pain of losing my brother or the guilt that racked through me for being the one to survive.
As much as I hated Dad, he was right. I didn’t deserve to be here.
Not even sleeping on this goddamn floor.