Chapter 63 #3
“Am I speaking another language?” His voice dropped to something cold, something final. “Give me your phone.”
My fingers fumbled as I dug it out of my pocket and reluctantly placed it in his hand, my breath catching as he unlocked it, his eyes narrowing at the screen.
“Hmmm.” A bitter sound. “Who’s Kai?”
Heat flooded my cheeks.
“He’s no one,” I said quickly.
“Why is he saying he misses you?” A dry, humourless laugh escaped him as he scrolled, his thumb flicking through my messages like he was peeling back layers of my skin. He read out the texts in a mocking voice, gagging theatrically at anything that even hinted at affection.
Then the phone vibrated.
“Are you okay?” he read aloud, his voice dripping with suspicion. “Why is he asking if you’re okay? Did you tell him something?”
He leaned in close - too close - his breath hot against my cheek. My stomach twisted, my pulse thudding painfully in my throat.
“No,” I said quietly, shaking my head. My voice barely carried. It didn’t matter - he heard the fear anyway.
“No?” he repeated, slower this time. He tilted his head, scanning my face like he was reading a confession written under my skin, eyes narrowing again. “If I find out that you’ve said something…”
“I haven’t,” I said quickly, the words tumbling out before I could think.
He scoffed, waving the phone around like it offended him. “I knew I shouldn’t have bought you this.”
My chest tightened. Not my phone.
“You always go making a mug out of me,” he said, shaking his head like he was disappointed in a child.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, because that was the only thing that ever made anything stop.
“No - first your Xbox, now this. You really do know how to take the piss” He held the phone up between us, his lip curling. “You know I can’t let you keep this.”
“Please, Connor,” I said, pushing myself up and reaching for it. “Give it back.” My hand shook. My voice didn’t carry the conviction I wanted - it barely carried anything at all.
Connor didn’t even hesitate.
He shoved me back down, the force knocking the breath out of my lungs. I hit the cushions awkwardly, my hands scrambling for balance, fingers clawing at the fabric as I tried to sit up.
“Please,” I said again, the word barely more than a breath. “I won’t say anything.”
“No, you won’t,” he said - calm, certain - as he hurled the phone across the room.
I watched it hit the wall with a sickening crack before clattering to the floor, the screen splintering into a spiderweb of shattered glass. The sound echoed in my chest, louder than it should’ve been, like something inside me had cracked with it.
Connor picked it up, throwing it into my lap. “There you go, you want it back, you’ve got it.”
The phone landed hard against my thighs, the weight of it jarring through me. I stared down at it, my breath catching in my throat.
My eyes traced the screen - or what was left of it. A collage of cracks splintered across the glass, shards glittering under the lamp. My stomach rolled. I could already tell it was done for. Nothing normally survived his wrath.
I reached out with shaking fingers, brushing the broken surface like maybe, somehow, it wouldn’t be as bad as it looked. The screen didn’t light up. Didn’t even flicker.
Connor watched me, arms folded, satisfaction settling over his features like a shadow.
“See?” he said, shrugging like this was nothing. “What you make me do.” He pointed at me, my throat tightening. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady, trying not to let him hear the panic clawing at my ribs.
“I… I didn’t do anything,” I whispered, my fingers curling protectively around the ruined phone.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” He pointed at me again, the gesture sharp enough to make my shoulders tense. “You told me you weren’t going to have anyone over. You told me that.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My throat felt too tight, like the air had thickened.
He shook his head slowly, standing over me, chest rising and falling in quick, irritated bursts. His eyes stayed locked on me - unblinking, waiting, like he was watching for the next thing to break.
“I don’t know what to do with you.” He said through clenched teeth, his jaw tight enough that a muscle jumped beneath the skin. “You don’t listen.”
“I will.” I nodded frantically, the words tumbling out too fast. “I will. I’m sorry. I will.” Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, and I fought them back with everything I had. Crying only ever made things worse.
“You think I’m a joke.” He paced in front of me, each step sharp, controlled, like he was trying to keep himself from snapping. “You think it’s all just one big joke, don’t you?” His voice cracked into a shout, the sound ricocheting off the walls.
“No.” I shook my head quickly, my breath catching, curling my hands into fists against my knees, trying to stay still, trying not to show how badly I was shaking.
He stopped pacing.
Turned.
He looked at me like he was seeing something he hated. “I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”
Before I could react, he leaned down, grabbed me by the shirt collar, and hauled me toward the kitchen. My feet scrambled against the floor, trying to keep up, trying not to fall.
“Connor, no-” I shouted, clawing at his hands. “Connor, please.”
I didn’t know what he was doing, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good.
He shoved me into the chair by the kitchen table, his hand clamping down on my shoulder so hard I couldn’t move. The pressure alone made my breath catch.
“It’s about time you manned up,” he hissed, reaching up to the top of the cabinet. He pulled down a box. “That’s your problem; you’ve always been a pretty boy.” The sneer in his voice made my stomach twist. “I think it’s time to change that, don’t you?”
He opened the box and pulled out a shaver, plugging it into the wall. The buzz filled the kitchen, low and sickening, vibrating through the tiles.
“Connor, please,” I said, tears spilling freely now. “Not my hair.”
The buzzing grew louder, and my chest tightened with every whir. Soon, I felt as though my throat had closed up. I scrambled up, eyes darting to the doorway, calculating the distance, the angle, the chance - but he was already blocking it.
“Sit down.” His voice was cold. Final.
I shook my head, backing up a step.
He moved fast - too fast - grabbing me before I even had time to flinch.
His hand clamped around my arm, fingers digging in, and then he dragged me back toward the chair. My feet barely caught the floor. My shoulder hit the backrest first, then the rest of me followed, the impact jarring through my ribs.
And then came the blow.
Sharp. Sudden. Right to the middle of me.
The air punched out of my lungs in a single, broken gasp, and my body folded over itself, hands flying to my stomach as I tried - and failed - to pull in a breath. The room tilted. My vision blurring at the edges.
A thin, strangled sound escaped me - not even a cry, just the instinctive noise of someone trying to breathe through pain.
I tried to sit up. Tried to steady myself. Tried not to make it worse.
But my ribs seized, locking tight, and all I could do was grip the edge of the chair and fight for air.
Connor stood over me, chest rising and falling, watching me struggle like it proved something he’d been saying all along.
“See?” he muttered, shaking his head. “This is what I mean. Start listening.” He jabbed a finger at my head.
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
My eyes watered, my throat burning as I forced in a thin, shaky inhale. My stomach throbbed. My ribs screamed. My hands trembled against the fabric.
And still - still - I kept my gaze down.
The bruises from last time pulsed under my skin, a reminder of how little room I had to fight.
Before I could fully recover, his hand clamped onto the back of my head, forcing me upright again, forcing me still.
And then the shaver touched my scalp.
The vibration rattled through my skull, loud and violent in my ears. Hair fell in uneven clumps onto my shoulders, onto the floor, onto my shaking hands.
I squeezed my eyes shut, tears slipping down my cheeks as the sound filled the room - the sound of something being taken from me, something I couldn’t get back.
When it was over, hair clinging to my shoulders and the floor scattered with uneven clumps, Connor finally stepped back. The buzzing stopped, leaving a ringing silence in its place - a silence that felt louder than the shaver ever had.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
My legs shook as I pushed myself upright. The room swayed for a moment, my breath catching in my throat. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want to look at anything.
He grabbed my arm and steered me toward the hallway mirror.
“Look,” he demanded.
I kept my eyes down.
“Look.” His voice sharpened, slicing through whatever was left of my resistance.
Slowly - painfully - I lifted my gaze.
The reflection staring back at me didn’t look like me. Didn’t look like anyone I recognised.
My hair was gone in jagged patches, uneven and harsh, exposing the shape of my head in a way that made my stomach twist. My eyes were red, my cheeks blotchy, my whole face tight with the effort of not falling apart.
Connor stood behind me, arms crossed, watching my reaction like it was the point of the whole thing.
“There,” he said, his voice low and satisfied. “Now you don’t look like some pretty little thing sneaking around with boys.”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it wouldn’t go down.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
He leaned in closer, his reflection towering over mine.
“Maybe now you’ll learn,” he said. “Maybe now you’ll listen.”
I stared at the mirror, at the stranger looking back at me, and something inside me cracked - quietly, invisibly - like a hairline fracture no one else could see.
But I felt it.
I felt all of it.
“I hate you,” I muttered, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. The words scraped out of me, raw and shaking. Tears streamed hot down my cheeks, blurring everything - the room, the light, even him.
“I hate you so fucking much.”
“Watch how you speak to me.” His voice dropped, colder than before - a warning, a promise - but I didn’t care anymore. Something inside me had already cracked.
“No,” I said, louder this time, the words ripping out of me. “I fucking hate you so much!” My hands shoved at his chest, weak but desperate. “You’re ruining my life!”
He caught my wrists in one smooth, practised movement.
“Why do you never learn?” He shook his head, tightening his grip - fingers biting into my arm - and before I could pull back, he threw me down.
The hardwood floor rushed up fast, the impact knocking the air out of me in a single, broken gasp. Pain shot through my ribs, sharp and immediate, radiating outward like a shockwave.
The room spun. My breath stuttered. My palms scraped against the floor as I tried to push myself up, my arms trembling under my weight.
And then his boot collided with my stomach.
A dull, crushing force. My body folded, instinct taking over as I curled my arms around myself, trying to shield what I could. My forearms took most of the blows - each one jarring, each one sending a fresh burst of pain through my ribs.
Then he stopped.
The sudden stillness was almost worse.
He crouched down beside me, his shadow falling over my curled-up body, and I could feel his breath, steady and unbothered, while mine came in short, broken gasps.
“You’ll thank me for this one day,” he said.
I looked up at him, tears blurring my vision. My throat burning, my chest aching. I couldn’t get enough air.
“Now get out of my fucking sight.”
He turned away, dismissing me with a flick of his hand.
My muscles groaned, but I had to move. Had to get to my room. Had to listen to him.
My body knew it before my mind did - that old, awful instinct kicking in, the one that said, don’t make it worse .
My legs shook as I pushed off the wall, my ribs screaming with every breath.
The hallway stretched out in front of me, too long, too quiet, the shadows bending in ways that made my stomach roll.
I kept my head down. Kept my steps soft. Kept my breathing shallow so the pain didn’t spike again.
The smashed phone thudded against my thigh with every step, a heavy reminder of how cut off I was.
How alone.
How trapped.
My fingers brushed the cracked screen through my pocket, and something inside me tightened - a small, desperate ache for the one person who’d asked if I was okay.
But I couldn’t think about Kai.
Not now.
Not when Connor was probably in the next room, listening, waiting for any excuse to drag me back.
My vision blurred again, the hallway tilting slightly as I reached the door to my room. I gripped the handle, steadying myself, swallowing down the burn in my throat.
Just get inside. Just close the door. Just disappear.
I slipped into the room and shut the door quietly behind me, leaning against it for a moment as my breath shuddered out of me. My ribs throbbed. My arms ached. My whole body felt like it was vibrating with leftover fear.
But I’d made it.
I’d listened.
I’d done what he said.
And for now - for this one fragile moment - that meant I was safe.
I couldn’t make it to my bed. It seemed, somehow, too far.
So I just let my knees give out and collapsed onto the floor, the carpet rough against my palms as I finally stopped holding everything in.
The tears came fast, hot, slipping down my face before I could even breathe properly.
I curled in on myself, letting the weight of everything press down, letting myself break in the only place I could.
Then my phone vibrated - a sharp buzz against the floorboards. Then another. And another. A whole series of them, rattling against the wood like it was trying to pull me back to the surface.
The sound was soft - barely there - but it felt like it shook straight through me. I froze, breath catching, ribs flaring with pain at the sudden stillness.
I pulled it out with shaking hands.
The screen blurred under the cracks, colours bleeding into each other, the whole thing flickering like it was trying to hold itself together. But it kept vibrating, weak little buzzes against my palm.
Kai’s name appeared at the top. Warped. Multicoloured from the damage. Barely readable.
But it worked.
Something in my chest clenched - sharp, aching, overwhelming. My throat burned. My eyes stung. I blinked hard, trying to clear the smear of tears and fractured glass.
Kai was calling me.