Prologue
Mason-Age Eight
I might not be that great at math yet, but I know how to count footsteps, and I know how many footsteps it takes my dad to get from his office to the kitchen…where I’m hiding.
The cabinet under the sink smells like cleaning supplies and pennies, and my legs hurt from being pulled so close to my chest. I really want to stretch them out, but I can’t make any noise. I can’t open the doors. I can’t let him find me.
He’s on step seventeen of thirty-four.
I flinch when I hear my name getting louder…getting closer.
“Mason Sinclair!”
A cabinet slams, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to breathe too loudly.
I just wanted to look at the baseball he had in that glass box on his shelf. I just wanted to read what it said. The words were really squiggly and hard to see from so far away.
I didn’t mean to break it.
Thor came running into the room when I was on my tiptoes and bumped my legs, making me drop it, and it shattered everywhere.
I’ve been hiding here ever since.
I knew Dad would be home soon, and I knew he’d be mad.
I hate when he’s mad.
He’s always mad.
“Mason!” he yells again, closer now.
The door swings open and light rushes in. He quickly grabs my arm, yanking me out of the cabinet, and I can barely stand up straight because of how rough he’s pulling me.
“Scott! Stop being so rough with him! He’s just a kid!”
“Shut up, Nichole! He’s big enough to mess with things that aren’t his; then he’s big enough to face the consequences.”
“Scott!” Mom yells louder as he drags me into his office.
I’m trying to keep up and not fall over, but the tears make it hard to see where I’m going.
When he pulls me into his office, he slams the door behind us and locks it. My mom bangs on the other side, telling him not to hurt me, that it was just an accident, that I’m just a kid and didn’t mean to.
He doesn’t even respond to her. He’s in my face, grabbing my chin hard and pointing to the broken glass on the floor near his desk.
“Do you know how much that was worth, boy? Do you know how valuable that was? Are you stupid? Is there something off in your head? You know you’re not allowed in this room! You’re never allowed in this room! Why did you think it was okay to be in here messing with my things?”
“I—I didn’t—”
He pushes my face away so hard that my head snaps sideways.
“You didn’t what? Think?”
I’m trying to stop crying enough to talk. “I didn’t do it!”
He walks closer to me, getting in my face again.
“Then who did it? Casper the damn ghost?”
I start walking backwards until my back hits the bookshelf, bumping a container of pens onto the ground.
He yanks me up so hard by my arm this time that I hear my shoulder pop.
“Watch where you’re going! That’s your damn problem! What the hell is wrong with you, Mason? Why can’t you ever pay attention and listen?”
“It—it wasn’t me!”
“Then who?!” he yells. “Your mother? Do I need to go get her in here and ask why she’s somewhere she shouldn’t be, either?”
I shake my head fast. “No! No, it—it was Thor!”
My dad stares at me for a moment, trying to figure out if I’m lying. “How the hell did a dog get in a room that should be closed at all times?”
“I—I don’t know! I think you left it cracked this morning, and—and he just pushed inside!”
He shakes his head, still pissed, then starts pulling me out of the room with him. When the door opens, my mom is on the other side, worry clear on her face.
“Are you okay, Mase?”
“He’s fine, Nichole. Stop babying him so damn much. You’re going to raise him to be a pussy.”
“Don’t talk like that around him, Scott!”
“I speak how I want in this house. The house I pay for! The house you two should be grateful to live in. Yet all y’all do is strive to make my life harder!”
He leads me out onto the back porch and then stops walking and points outside to where Thor is chasing a bird.
“Since you can’t keep up with that damn dog, then you can say goodbye to him.”
My head snaps up to look at him, tears running down my face. “No—no, you can’t!”
“I can, and I will! I’m over your disrespect, son! I’m over no one listening in this house! I’m over working hard to provide this life for the two ungrateful shits who benefit from it! I’m done!”
Thor is my best friend. The only friend I have. He sleeps in my bed every night; he meets me in the driveway every day after school with licks and tail wags; he cuddles with me when I have nightmares; he’s there to distract me when my parents fight…he’s—he’s all I’ve got other than my mom.
“Please, Dad! I’ll watch him better, I’ll keep him with me! I promise! Please!”
He walks away, not even caring. “It’s not up for discussion. Say your goodbyes and get him in the car. You can either ride with us or stay here…but he’s going.”
“It was me, Dad! I broke it! It wasn’t Thor!”
My dad stops in the doorway and turns to look at me.
He pauses for a long moment. “You know…I was thinking about just teaching you a lesson. I was gonna take him and then bring him back. But since you wanted to be a liar…now he’s definitely going.”
“Dad! Please!” I beg.
“Suck the tears up and get that dog in the car, or it’ll be a lot worse, son! He can either go to the pound and find a new family…or I can take my shotgun out there to the backyard and take care of him myself. Your choice, Mason.”
He walks back inside, and my mom comes running out, scooping me into her arms. I can’t stop crying. I feel like I can barely breathe.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
She soothes a hand over my head and tries to comfort me.
“Nichole, what did I say about babying that boy?”
“You don’t have to do this, Scott! It was an accident! He’s eight! You’re traumatizing him!”
“You want to keep the damn dog so bad?” he spits. “Then you can go too!”
She goes quiet.
I haven’t stopped crying the whole car ride. I just keep holding on tight to the big, fluffy golden retriever who was once a tiny little puppy in a little box on Christmas morning when I was four, who’s grown with me and never left my side.
The car door swings open.
“Out,” my dad orders.
I hold tighter to Thor, and he licks my hand like he’s trying to silently make me feel better anyway he knows how to.
“I’ll do anything, Dad! Please don’t take him!”
“Maybe you’ll think about him the next time you decide to do something you’re not supposed to and then lie about it.”
Inside, a lady behind a desk smiles at Dad. “What’s the reason for surrender?” she asks.
“He’s aggressive,” Dad says.
I look up at him, shocked.
Thor has never bitten anyone. He licks. He cuddles. He sleeps with his paws twitching when he’s dreaming. He’s not aggressive.
“He’s not!” I shout. “He’s not mean!”
Dad grips my shoulder hard enough to make me gasp. “Be quiet.”
The lady just nods and types something into the computer, then she makes him fill out some paperwork before walking around the counter to us.
She reaches for Thor’s leash, but he resists. He turns back toward me, panting and confused, with his tail low now. He makes a sound I’ve never heard before, like he’s scared.
I grab him again.
“Please,” I sob. “Please don’t take him!”
Dad pulls me away as the lady walks him down the hall.
The metal door closes between us, and I can still hear Thor’s barks. Each one sounds more scared than the last.
I run and slam my fists against the door. “Thor! Thor, I’m right here!”
Dad drags me backward.
“Don’t embarrass me,” he says, aggravated.
Thor’s barking fades as we walk away.
By the time we’re back in the car, my throat hurts from crying, and my face feels hot and tight.
That night, my mom lies with me in my bed as I cry and hold onto his favorite chew toy like it’ll help how I’m feeling.
Mom keeps trying to tell me it’ll be okay…but how can it be? How can things ever be okay when my father is Scott Sinclair?