I suddenly didn’t want to wear it anymore.
I leaned up and struggled to get it off. I stumbled around as spit dripped down my chin. I felt someone tugging at my coat, trying to help pull it off me as I slowly peeled it away from my body. I coughed and sputtered. Sobs fell from my lips because I didn’t have the strength to hold back my tears any longer. I felt an arm wrap around my stomach, holding me as grunts and growls came from behind me.
It wasn’t until the coat finally ripped away from my arms, however, that I figured out Cecilia was holding me. Cecilia was grunting with me. Cecilia was cradling me close.
“Come here. I’ve got you. They’ll be here soon, Clint.”
I leaned heavily against her. Despite the fact that my massive body was easily twice her size, I curled into her like a newborn child, afraid of being too far away from her. I coughed as my sobs came in hiccups. The taste of puke in my mouth was fucking awful. My nose hurt unlike anything I’d ever felt and Dad still lay there. Unconscious on the fucking porch.
The thunderstorm was moving away, though.
Slowly, but surely.
The sound of sirens fell against my ears and I sighed. Cecilia positioned herself against the house and I leaned even harder against her. I didn’t know what this meant for us. What this meant for our family. Would she tell the paramedics how this all happened? Would I be arrested?
Would it even matter?
I might have a better quality of life in prison.
“It’s okay. Breathe for me, Clint. I need you to settle down a bit.”
My chest hiccupped. “I’m sor—so—sorry, Cec—cec—”
“Sh-sh-sh-sh. They’re almost here. I see the ambulance now.”
The siren’s sound grew to a deafening roar. And only then did my father start to stir. Footsteps landed against pavement as people made their way onto the porch. Helping my father to wake up. I heard him groaning. Grumbling. Growling out my name. I slowly opened my eyes and watched him bat people away. He even ripped a small flashlight out of one of their hands and tossed it over the railing of the porch.
“Where the fuck is my son?”
I cowered against Cecilia’s body as her hand smoothed over the side of my face.
“Where the hell are you, Clinton?”
The paramedic sighed. “Sir, I need you to stay still. You could have a concussion.”
My father bolted upright. “Where the fuck are you, you piece of shit?”
“Sir, can you please—”
“I’m going to rip you a new one. You don’t get to knock me out on my own porch and get away with it. Cecilia!”
She snickered. “Shut up, Howard.”
He snarled. “What did you say, you stupid bitch?”
“Shut up, Dad. Seriously.”
He whipped his head around. “Come here, you little dipshit.”
“You two. Inside, now. The paramedic will tend to you in there.”
We listened to the command of the woman trying to help my father. But he was combative the entire time. His curses and slurs followed me inside, where my stepmother and I switched roles. Once I got myself on my feet, I took her in my arms and held her closely as the paramedics examined me. They flashed lights in my eyes and checked my temples. The man fiddled with my nose and it nauseated me. I felt myself heave again and Cecilia quickly stepped away, watching with wide eyes while people fussed over me.
“No concussion. But he’s in mild shock.”
“Pupil dilation’s good.”
“We need a brace for his nose!”