Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
It was after midnight on a Friday night and he knew his dad had been drinking cheap bourbon chased with warm Budweiser most of the day. He couldn’t afford premium alcohol to drown his failures with—which was their fault. He’d been laid off for two weeks for poor job performance—also their fault—and was furious at the world. Meridian lay on his thin mattress in his bedroom after listening to his father’s belt come down on his mother’s back so many times he lost count. He slammed the pillow over his head but her screams couldn’t be drowned out. Sometimes the police were called but they never came. No one ever came. No neighbors, police, fireman, child protective services, goddamn Batman. No one. It was as if the world didn’t care of the hell he lived in.
Meridian shot up in his bed, his hand going for the old .25 he kept under his pillow at the sound of their front door being kicked in. He shook as heavy footsteps and gruff voices flooded the tiny space, calling for his dad. Meridian’s grip on his gun was slippery in his sweaty palm. He was so terrified of what was happening, and for a long moment he stood there shaking with the gun aimed at his door. The pistol was so small he wondered if it’d even stop his bull of a father or whomever the animals were that’d barged into their home. It was better than nothing and it’d at least be enough for him and his mom to get away.
The sound of her screams propelled him to move and he charged into the hall with his weapon pointed and ready to fire at the first person who angled in his direction. He immediately searched for his mother when he rounded the corner, surprised to find her curled in a ball in the corner of their tight living room, watching in horror as four men dragged his father into the middle of the floor and started to beat him over and over again... with their belts.
“So we hear you like to take your troubles out on your wife and kid, Mr. Hayes.”
Meridian hadn’t noticed the man in a long black trench coat, on the couch with his legs crossed, staring down at his father. His posture, his tone, his entire demeanor radiated the word boss.
“There are decent people in this building who are fed up with it. Family who have been cut off from Mrs. Hayes are fed up with it. And we’ve been sent to take care of it.”
Family? Meridian swallowed.
“Please.” His mother wept some more. And Meridian didn’t know if she was begging for her husband’s life or pleading for them to take it.
The house was dark in the middle of the night and all of the hoodlums wore heavy black clothes, making it difficult for Meridian to recognize them. A man who stood guard at the door saw him but didn’t make a move towards him. He was a hulking beast of a guy, his face cratered and rough, but surprisingly Meridian didn’t feel him to be his biggest threat. Nor the composed man on the couch. It was the ruthless men pummeling his father. Were they going to go for him and his mother next?
His father hollered louder when they switched from using belts to using their fists. Meridian thought he should be sick from all the spit and blood... his own father’s blood... but he wasn’t. He felt... nothing. Maybe not nothing, he actually wanted to see more blood spilled.
“Fists to the face don’t feel good do they, Mr. Hayes?” the boss asked when his father was forced to his knees by a handful of his sweaty hair. His face was a mess. “Cracked ribs are excruciating, are they not?”
One of the men holding his dad shot his big boot out to the side and slammed it into his father’s rib cage—much like his dad had done to him when he was ten years old—sending him back to the floor in pure agony. His screams were louder than his mother’s. Finally. His dad turned his head, the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut landing on him, then on the baby-piece he had cocked in his palm.
“Marshall, kill’em! Do it! Shoot now!” His father spat red venom from his mouth before he was kicked in the stomach. “Fucking do it, you pussy!”
His mother was on her knees, her body too broken to even get to him. “Marshall don’t. Put that down. Don’t do it, honey.”
Meridian locked eyes with the boss man on the couch. His stare was cold and blank, almost testing Meridian to see what he’d do. The boss didn’t appear afraid of the weapon Meridian had in his hand, somehow confident that he wasn’t planning to use it on him. Then it was as clear as day what he needed to do, what he wanted to do.