Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
That was his complaint now.
“I saw you sassing Mrs. Leady,” he snarled, the minute I climbed up into the truck. The interior always smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. I hated that stink!
I knew better than to contradict him—better than to say anything but, “Yes, Duke. Sorry, Duke.” But that day I was feeling rebellious.
He acted like I was some kind of discipline problem—like I got sent to the Principal’s office every day, which wasn’t true at all! I think, like the kids at school, he could sense there was something different about me. He didn’t know what it was but it made him hate me with a passion. So it was stupid to contradict him.
But I did it anyway.
“I wasn’t talking back to her,” I said in a low voice, looking down at my hands, which were clenched on top of my backpack. “She just asked if that was your truck coming to pick me up and I said it was. That’s all.”
It might seem like a harmless thing to say—but nothing was ever harmless with Duke.
His beefy face—which always had a five o’clock shadow no matter how often he shaved—went beet red. I knew because I could see it from the corner of my eye.
“You sassing me, you little brat?” he snarled, glaring down at me. “You calling me a liar?”
“No!” I protested quickly, alarmed at how fast things were spiraling. “I’m just telling you what I said to her and what she said back.”
“You’re a little liar! I don’t know why your momma doesn’t beat you more! She ought to beat the sass out of you!”
“I’m not sassy!” I muttered rebelliously. “I’m just telling the truth.”
Duke’s face got even redder and he blew through a stop sign, making other drivers blare their horns indignantly.
“You better mind what you say to me, missy! Watch that smart mouth of yours or I’ll tan your bottom until you can’t sit down for a week!”
My stepfather always wanted to punish me. He said I talked back—said he had the right to discipline me since he was my father now. But he hadn’t laid a hand on me…yet.
We finished the drive in silence—I said nothing because it was clear there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t enrage him further. I could feel how much he hated me curling around my head like sour smoke—it mixed with the fear I felt and made my stomach tight. Driving with him was like riding beside a rabid beast—one that might break free of its constraints and attack at any time. I just wanted to get home and go to my room to feel safe from him.
But today it was like the rage in my stepfather finally boiled over. The minute he parked the truck in our driveway, and we got inside the house, he reached for me and grabbed me by the arm.
“Hey!” I gasped, surprised because I hadn’t expected it. As many times as he’d talked about punishing me, I hadn’t really thought he would do it.
But now, the restraints were gone.
“You come here!” Duke was grinning in a mean way—his little, piggy eyes filled with angry glee. “You come here and take your punishment for smarting off to me, missy! I’ll make you sorry you ever opened your mouth!”
He dragged me to the couch and pulled me over his lap. I screamed and struggled, but he had me pinned down with one heavy arm over my lower back to hold me in place.
“Let me go! I’ll tell Mom!” I shrieked, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. My mother was a cold and distant woman—she never objected when Duke said mean things to me. Anyway, she wasn’t home right now. She had to work late most nights, which was why she had Duke pick me up from school.
“You shut your fat mouth!” my stepfather roared. “I’m going to teach you a lesson right now about sassing me!”
He raised his hand and I tensed, my whole body going stiff as a board. I was thinking, No! No-no-no! Don’t hit me, you can’t hit me! I wish someone would hit you and show you how it is!
I heard a sharp slap! But I didn’t feel anything. Then Duke gave an angry cry.
“What the fuck?”
I twisted my neck and saw his hand still raised and a dark mark growing on his already red face.
“You little bitch!” he snarled at me. “I said I’m going teach you a lesson!”
His hand fell…but at the last minute, it jerked to the side and instead of spanking me, he slapped his own face. It happened again and again—every time my angry stepfather tried to beat me, he hit himself instead.
Which only enraged him more.
“You little bitch—how are you doing this?” he shouted at me.
I didn’t know myself—I only knew I needed to get away from him as fast as I could.