Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“What are you doing? Stop that!” My cries fall on deaf ears as I watch in horror. Nico holds Dad in place, forcing him to watch as his partner sweeps an arm down one of the shelves that holds canned goods, dog and cat food, boxes of cereal. He laughs while marching down the aisle, stomping on the boxes, making them split open and scatter their contents.
Then, he decides to start kicking the freezer doors. I flinch every time he makes contact, eventually cracking the glass before he starts kicking it in.
“Okay, okay!” Dad shouts over the sound of glass breaking and my tiny, terrified squeals.
“No, see, that’s where you’re wrong.” Nico shoves him up against the counter, right in front of where I’m standing on the other side, frozen in horror. He pulls his arm back, and I barely have the chance to realize what’s about to happen before he drives a fist into Dad’s face.
That’s what shakes me out of my frozen shock. “No!” Scrambling out from behind the counter, I try to throw myself between them, using my body to shield Dad. It’s instinct, pure and simple—I mean, what could I hope to do, really? But I have to do something. I can’t stand here and watch him be beaten.
“Get the fuck out of the way, little girl.” Dante pulls me off him, shaking me until my shoulder threatens to pop out of place. “We’re here to do a job, but we could spend a little time with you, too, if you want. What do you think, Dad?” he asks, laughing as he turns toward my bleeding father.
“Fuck you,” I snarl before stomping on his foot as hard as I can. He howls in pain, giving me a second of satisfaction.
Before he growls and backhands me hard enough that my head snaps to the side, and agonizing, white-hot pain explodes in my head. Add that to that the pain of being thrown to the floor, and my body is one big, throbbing ache.
And all I can do is scramble backward and cover my face with my hands once I’m against the wall. I can’t stand the sight of them beating Dad up in the middle of the ruin they’ve created.
It’s bad enough that I have to hear it.
Chapter 11
Kellen
Should I be drinking at Dad’s bar? Sitting in the corner, nursing a whiskey? If the cops around here cared, probably not. They’re good at looking the other way, though they wouldn’t know unless one of the regulars gave them a heads-up. Everybody around here knows better.
Besides, no one is showing up here trying to pay attention to anybody else’s business. They are too busy doing their own shit—drinking their problems away, and letting a smiling, anonymous woman flirt with them and provide a little excitement and maybe even comfort at the end of a long day. Everybody’s got needs, and Dad makes it his business to serve them.
So what’s my need tonight? That’s easy. I need to forget. That’s the mood I’m in as I lift the glass to my lips, inhaling the aroma of the whiskey before letting it touch my tongue and burn a path down my throat. Warmth spreads through my chest, and I welcome the sensation. It’s real. It reminds me I’m alive.
What else is there, besides being alive?
I’m in that kind of mood as memories of this morning creep in no matter how hard I fight to push them away. I got my fix, and now I want more. It doesn’t seem like there’s any amount of booze that will be enough to make me forget. I need to be numb, and I haven’t reached that point yet. I’m starting to think my liver will give out before that time comes—and the empty glasses lined up in front of me sort of back up that theory.
This is why I can’t be with my friends, even though they invited me over for pizza and movies. There’s no way I could sit still, staring at the TV, while they cuddled or some shit with their girls. I would only bring everybody down—or worse, they would get all up in my business and ask endless questions that would only piss me off. By the end of the night, I would have to leave before things got any worse.
Safer to stay here, with a bunch of people who have the same idea as me. They mind their business, I mind mine, and we all drink ourselves half to death.
I’m so deep in thought, unsettled, and miserable, that the tapping of fingernails against the back of my neck makes me jump. My shoulders rise defensively before a shiver runs down my spine.
“Sorry, baby.” The throaty laughter sets my teeth on edge. The girl responsible for startling me rounds my stool and flops down next to it. I don’t remember inviting her.