Breaking Through (Memphis Hellions #4)

Prologue

Veronica

Ten years old

"Itold you not to talk back to me, bitch." Daddy's angry voice shouts at Momma from the living room and my body trembles with fear. He hasn’t been home long, but he’s already mad.

“Goddamnit,” he growls angrily. “Who left the fucking LEGOs on the floor?” There's a scuffing noise before something hits the wall. The LEGOs maybe?

I gulp, my body instantly shaking, knowing it was me. Momma had told me to put them away, but I’d forgotten, excited for dinner. Now, I’ve made him mad.

“It's going to be okay, VeeVee. Don’t say anything,” Luca whispers to me, taking hold of my hand under the table, squeezing it tightly.

Daddy’s boots thud against the floor as he storms into the kitchen where Momma’s just setting his plate down. She brushes the stray hairs hanging in her face away, tucking them behind her ears.

“I’m sure it was just an accident. The kids were going to put them away as soon as they finished eating.

Here, come into the kitchen and sit down before your food gets cold.

” Her voice hitches, and her hands tremble.

She’s lying to protect us. It’s not the first time she's done it to pull the attention to her and away from us.

“Fucking kids don’t need to be eating if they don’t clean their shit up first,” he grumbles as he drops down in his chair. “Where’s my fucking beer?”

I peek over at Daddy and see Momma smile at me. But it’s not like the ones she gives me when he’s not around. It's not happy, and it doesn’t spread across her face.

“Are you sure? How about some water?”

His fists slam down on the table, causing our glasses to jump under the force and spill milk onto the table.

Luca jumps into action, taking his napkin and quickly sopping up the white liquid before Daddy turns his anger back in our direction. More specifically, at me.

“If I wanted fucking water, I would’ve asked for it. I want a damn beer.” Then he shoots his rage-filled eyes at me and Luca. “And I want to know who left the fucking LEGOs out so I can beat your fucking ass.”

“Mark, let me get your beer while the kids take their plates to their room. I’ll make sure to clean up the living room.” Luca and I stand slowly at Momma’s words. Her subtle cue for us to leave and get out of the line of fire.

“Would you fucking shut up, bitch?” My father raises his voice at Momma. Luca takes hold of my hand, gripping tightly, pulling me from the table.

His voice echoes through the house as he shouts at Momma. He came home pissed tonight, as usual. He’s always mad about something, but tonight seems different. Worse.

Luca and I look at each other, neither of us wanting to leave her alone with him.

Both of us fearful of what he’ll do to her.

When he stands, picking up his chair and throws it across the room at her, I jump, screaming, before dropping to the floor.

Luca rushes to my side, helping me up, nudging my shoulder.

But all I can hear is the loud clap of thunderous sound as the chair misses Momma and hits the wall, a crackling sound just before the chair crashes to the floor.

“Let’s do what Momma said, VeeVee. If we stay, it’ll be worse. It always is”, he whispers in my ear. Daddy likes to make a big example out of Momma, showing us exactly what'll happen to us if we step out of line. We hurry over to the table, pick up our plates, and run to the room we share.

Daddy’s been yelling nonstop at Momma for I don’t know how long.

All I know is that the long hand on Luca’s clock has moved halfway around the circle.

We can hear him, but not our momma. When her voice does trickle up to us, it’s nothing but sobs as she begs him for something.

Occasionally, we hear her screams. They gut me, knowing she’s in pain.

My eyes stay focused on the door, afraid that any minute he’ll get tired of hurting Momma and come for me.

He never hurts Luca, even when he tries to protect me.

Instead, Daddy waits until I’m alone with him to take his anger out on me.

The only other thing in my view is our plates, still filled with food, abandoned on the dresser as we sit together on the bottom bunk.

"He's really mad this time." Tears stream down my face, my body trembling, remembering how he hit Momma the last time he got so mad.

He broke her arm, and she had a huge bruise on her face.

It was all my fault. I spilled some milk on the floor, and Daddy slipped.

When he went to hit me, Momma stepped in front of me, stopping him, telling me to run to my room and lock the door.

My room has become my safe haven. But the door doesn’t always keep him out. It just makes it take a little longer for him to get to me.

"Daddy’s a fucking dick," Luca mutters. We're twins, even though he's taller than me. It used to make me mad that we weren't identical. Momma explained why we couldn’t be, and it made me feel a little better, because there’s no way I wanted to be a stinky boy.

Now, instead of someone who looks exactly like me, I have a fierce protector.

"Don't let him hear you say that," I beg, not wanting Daddy to take his anger out on him. Who am I kidding? He wouldn’t—he’d take it out on me. Daddy would swear I was a bad influence on Luca. Jezebel is what he likes to call women.

"I hope he does. I'm sick of his bullshit. He thinks I'm going to be just like him." Luca reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it as our father's voice rises downstairs, just as we hear another loud thud, like someone hitting the floor.

Momma.

Please don’t let it be her. Let her be okay.

Luca stands up and tiptoes over to the door, being careful not to let it creak as he opens it just slightly. With the barrier removed, we can hear even better.

"If you think you're going to take my son from me, you got another thing coming.

You can take your bitch of a daughter if you want.

She ain't good for anything. Not yet anyway.

Second thought, maybe I'll keep her. Then when she gets old enough, she can use what's between her legs to benefit me.

" Daddy’s voice drifts up, and I can feel the blood draining from my face as I begin to shake.

"She's your daughter, Mark. How can you talk about her like that?" Momma shouts just as the sound of glass breaking booms through the house.

Luca shuts the door and locks it. Only then does he move back over to the bed, sitting down beside me.

"You got to promise me, VeeVee, if that fucker ever does something to you, more than he does to you now, that you will run and hide." Luca turns to look at me with fierceness in his eyes, his lips pursed, face filled with anger and determination.

"I promise," I stammer.

The sound of feet pounding on the stairs gets louder and louder, before we hear the rattling of the door handle as someone tries to turn it with no success.

"Open the fucking door," Daddy shouts from the other side, just before he begins to pound his fist heavily on it.

"No!" Luca screams, his body tensing up.

"I said, open the fucking door. Don't make me break it down," he barks back.

My chest tightens, each breath shallow and shaky. I'm afraid of what he'll do to me, to Luca, and most importantly, what he's already done to our momma. God, I hope she's okay. I know that if she were, she’d be right there trying to coax Daddy away. And she isn’t.

A series of hard thuds sound at the door, and I watch it shake with the force of whatever he’s throwing against it.

It continues a few more times before the wood splinters and the door flies open, banging against the wall.

Our very angry and haggard-looking father stumbles inside before catching his balance.

"Get up, Luca, and pack your shit," he orders.

"No," Luca replies, pulling me closer.

He's always been my protector. I've always been the one bullies love to harass, all because my clothes are tattered, and my shoes have holes. After Luca took them on, they only bully me now when he isn't around. At home, he's always the buffer for my father's anger.

"Boy, I don't got time for your sass. Get your shit and let's go."

"I ain't going with you. I'm staying here with Momma and VeeVee," Luca says boldly as he scoots off the bed and stands in front of me, with his hands fisted at his sides. Ready to block any attempt our father makes to get to me.

"Luca, let’s go. That cunt mother of yours thinks she's going to take you away from me, and that’s only happening over my dead body."

"I ain't going, and don't talk about my momma like that." Luca stands firm against him.

Daddy storms across the room, stopping right in front of him.

"If I were you, boy, I'd remember who I am and what I can do. You know, if you want to keep fighting me, I can take one of the people you love the most out of the equation with just a phone call.” An evil glint fills Daddy’s eyes as he gazes at me with a smirk on his face.

“Hiram's had his eye on your sister for a while. "

Luca looks back over his shoulder at me, his face ghostly white, and whispers, “I love you.”

"If I go, you'll leave her alone?" Luca’s shaky voice asks Daddy, who nods in reply. I’ve never in my life heard fear in his voice like I do now.

Who is this Hiram?

"Okay," Daddy answers, but it doesn’t sound convincing.

The corners of Daddy’s lips turn up in a sadistic smile as he lets out a laugh. He turns to walk out, stopping at the doorway. "Be ready in five minutes." He turns back and leaves the room, turning down the hallway toward their bedroom.

"Luca, no, please don't go." I crawl off the bed, wrapping my arms around him, begging him not to go. Not to leave me.

"I have to. He'll keep hurting Momma if I don't, and worst of all, you. Hiram is a bad man, VeeVee, and I can't let anything happen to you."

"But Luca—" I start, but he interrupts me.

"VeeVee, I have to. But I promise I will see you again. Just don't forget me."

Luca kisses my forehead before pulling away from me.

He goes to the closet, pulls out his gym bag, and dumps the contents on the floor.

Opening his dresser drawer, he starts shoving his clothes into the bag.

I watch him intently, memorizing every detail about him: the dimples in his cheek, the small scar above his eye, all while my heart breaks into a million pieces.

All I can do is stand there as tears stream down my face.

I know better than to leave the room until my dad leaves the house—doing so would incur his wrath.

I just pray Momma is okay. As much as I want to race down the stairs and beg her to stop what's happening, I don't. The fear of my father outweighs everything.

Fifteen years have passed since that day, and I forced myself to forget him. Luca was merely a deep-seated memory until he called me VeeVee, and all that I'd forgotten came rushing back like a tide in the ocean.