Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
It made me realize just how fucked up my mom really was. No wonder John ran as fast as he could when he was old enough.
Ignoring the stares I got as I walked along the sidewalk, I headed for the direction of my mom’s run-down house that she rented. The place was trashed the last time I was here, but her slumlord didn’t give a damn. So long as he got his rent on the first of every month, he didn’t give a damn about the damages she and her men caused.
I kicked a few beer bottles out of my way as I walked up the porch. The smell coming from within the house had me feeling sick to my stomach.
God, how had I ever lived here before?
I pushed open the door and stepped inside, biting back a gag, willing myself not to throw up. You’d never think roaches had a smell, but trust me, they fucking did. And it smelled horrible.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I looked up from the floor and glared at the man in front of me. He was only wearing a pair of boxers, his beer gut on display. Hair covered his belly and chest. His legs were too skinny for the weight of his upper body. His hairline was receding, and what hair he did have was greasy and matted.
“Who the fuck are you?” I retorted instead of answering his question.
His backhand surprised the fuck out of me and sent me toppling to the floor. He may be overweight, but he also packed a hell of a lot of weight behind that smack.
Blood welled in my mouth. I glared up at him as I pushed myself from the floor. “I’m just here to get my shit,” I snarled at him. I spit blood onto the stained carpet.
His fist connected with my jaw next. I crashed against the wall, gritting my teeth as white-hot pain blinded my vision. I grabbed the closest thing to me—a heeled shoe of my mother’s—and threw it, hitting him in the face.
I was barely on my feet again when he wrapped his hands around my throat and shook me. I choked, clawing at his hands. I kneed him in his balls, and he released me, but then he shoved me against the wall.
Mom stumbled into the house, but she didn’t even pay me any mind as she made her way to the dining room table and slumped into a chair, too high to function.
His fists rained down on my spine as I tried to get up again, sending me back to the floor. I curled in on myself, protecting my stomach. If I couldn’t get the fuck up and fight back, then I’d protect this kid.
No matter my feelings about it, I’d never be the kind of person my mom was.
I bit my tongue so hard it bled as he beat the ever living fuck out of me, shouting at me for spitting on the carpet and disrespecting him. Eventually, after one too many blows to the head, I passed out, blood spilling from my lips.
21
Montana
Everything hurt.
Tears sprang to my eyes. Suddenly, I wanted to go back to whatever place I’d just escaped because it had been blissfully painless.
Reality was absolute hell.
I whimpered and slowly opened my eyes, staring up at the gray ceiling tiles above me. My throat felt raw. My head was pounding. My ribs hurt something fucking fierce every time I fucking breathed. Pain radiated through my back and down my legs, making even wiggling my toes fucking hurt. And God, fire raced up my arm from my left wrist, something heavy weighing it down.
“John?” I croaked, desperately needing my brother. A tear ran down my cheek. “It hurts,” I cried, more tears quickly following the first one.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Blaze soothed. His hand grabbed mine, and suddenly, he was hovering over me, his face blocking the ceiling tiles from my view. With his other hand, he gently cupped my cheek. “John went home to shower. You need more pain medicine?”
I licked my dry, chapped lips. “Please,” I begged. I tried squeezing his hand, but I just whimpered again, pain slicing up my arm. I looked at that hand. It looked normal. I glanced at my other one, my eyes widening in horror.
There was a cast around my wrist.
Blaze’s lips brushed my forehead, drawing my eyes back up to his. “Easy now.” He pressed a button on the side of my bed. “Just focus on breathing, okay?”
“Hurts to breathe,” I whispered.
He ran his hand over my hair, being more tender with me that he’d ever been before. But if I looked as bad as I felt, I couldn’t really fucking blame him.
I jumped and yelped in pain when a loud voice suddenly spoke through the speaker above my bed. “Can I help you?”