The threat looming over us made sweat form on the back of my neck, and my knees barely supported my weight. I needed to put myself between him and Ken. Not that our father was overly tall or muscular. We were the same height, with Ken reaching my shoulder, but he got fed at the factory—the one benefit his job held. Compared to him, Ken and I were scrawny, living off the little money I made—whatever didn't go toward paying the bills. My feet glided over the ratty carpet, my soles never leaving the stained surface. I ensured to maintain a balanced stance at all times. We never knew when he would snap and his fist would come flying. I could handle it, but my sister…
"I ashked ou a quesh'n!" he bellowed, and Ken stumbled back. The words were slurred.
This was not good. He was already too far gone to see reason.
"Mike ordered food for the garage, and I brought mine home for Ken," I lied.
"BULLSHIT!" He took a step toward my sister, and that was it. I jumped in front of him at the exact moment the back of his hand impacted with the side of my head—the blow meant for Ken.
"RUN! Go to Mrs. Benson." We hid at our neighbor's at least once a week. It wasn't unusual for one or both of us to show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night.
Ken whirled around, scrambling for the window instead of the front door—another tactic we had developed over the years. I would hold him off long enough for her to escape.
Dad attempted to sidestep me, but I blocked him, my palms pressed against his chest. I turned my head to confirm Ken had made it. She was straddling the windowsill with one leg outside when a hard object impacted on top of my head. A flash of agony shot through my scalp and down my spine. My legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor, clutching my uncut hair as warmth trickled down my temple. My vision faded in and out, and I zeroed in on the discarded bottle next to me as our father took chase.
"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Panic eclipsed the searing pain, and I scrambled to my feet. "I bought the food! Ken has nothing to do with it!" She couldn't hold her own against his violent streaks. Neither could I, but better me than her.
He ignored me as he latched onto her ankle before she fully made it outside.
"Ahhh!" Her ear-piercing scream was what I needed for my brain to focus. I threw myself forward and tackled him to the ground, forcing him to release my sister.
He bucked, though, throwing me off, and I landed on my back. The wind got knocked out of me, immobilizing me momentarily. He used that as an opportunity to straddle my legs. His fist was raised high, and I covered my face. I was prepared for the impact when tires screeched outside. The silence that followed was quickly replaced by shouts and cries of devastation.
My father froze, and ice punctured my heart as the sounds traveled through the open window. Using his temporary distraction to shove him off, I flipped to all fours and started crawling. I was unsure if my legs would support my weight. When I reached the front door, I pulled myself up and twisted the knob at the same time. Dizziness forced me to hold on to the frame before stepping through.
My breathing was labored from the struggle. My eyes adjusted to the scene in front of me, and my thoughts raced to catch up with the message it received. No! I locked on Mrs. Benson standing in her faded robe on the sidewalk, her mouth covered with her wrinkled hands. Someone else kneeled on the street—the driver of the car. I followed the man, who had a cell phone pressed to his ear, to where his other hand hovered over a body. No, no, no. My lungs refused to take in oxygen as I staggered down the cracked walkway. I knew what I would find but refused to accept it. With every step, more of my sister's form came into view.
"Marcus, don't—" Mrs. Benson's voice called out, sounding like I was underwater.
The pounding in my ears made it hard to concentrate. All I saw was Ken's bloodied face.
I pulledmy arm back and let my fist soar forward, shattering my reflection. I pounded the mirror over and over until there was nothing left to destroy. Shards covered every part of the sink and vanity. The sharp sting traveled from my knuckles until the burn reached my shoulder. My chest heaved as I propped myself on the edge. My body was coated with sweat, yet at the same time, I was still shivering. With hunched shoulders, I scanned the damage. Crimson dripped from cuts across my knuckles onto the white porcelain, and more memories flooded my mind.
Sitting on the asphalt with my baby sister was the last vivid memory I had of her. After that, everything was a blur.The cops and paramedics arrived, I rode with Ken to the hospital, they wheeled her away, and…she never came back.
Our father didn't bother to exit the house that evening. He never checked on what happened outside, why his children didn't come back into the house. When I finally made it home in the early morning hours, I found him passed out in his worn-down chair. His mouth hung open, saliva dripping from the corner.
I stared at him, letting the hollow cold spread through me like a glacier slowly melting in the warm sun. I remembered trembling all over, the tips of my fingers numb to the point of them hurting. I could've stood there a minute or an hour. I had no idea. Nothing mattered. I had lost the only person I cared about. I didn't protect her. I failed Ken. That would never happen again.
I haphazardly wiped my fingers on the towel wrapped around my lower half.
They took my sister from me. He. She. My father. Victor Keller. Denielle. She was a piece of the puzzle that destroyed my life. And I had given in to this beautiful shell—fucked her.
I walkedout of my father's house with him passed out. All I had were the clothes on my back, a small duffel in one hand, and Ken's favorite stuffed tiger in the other. I was eighteen. It had been a miracle he hadn't kicked me out months ago. But then, he needed my meager salary.
I enlisted that day and didn't return for my revenge until months later.
Ironically, I found my father in the same position as I'd left him. However, he was the one still the same—I was not. I advanced to where his feet hung off the leg rest of his recliner, studying the man who gave me life and took it. I was breathing, my heart was pumping blood through my veins, yet I was not alive. I always thought it sounded ridiculous when people said they turned off their emotions, their ability to feel. It wasn't difficult at all. All you needed was to lose what you cared most about and let revenge drive your sense of purpose.
I sidestepped the chair and reached for the ratty cushion on the couch. My adrenaline should've been through the roof, my blood thrashing through my veins. My conscience should've screamed at me to stop. Don't do this. None of it was present. There was nothing. Darkness had settled in my chest the second I saw the doctor entering the waiting room. Not Victor Keller. Another medical professional did his dirty work.
My fingers curled around the edges of the pillow, clutching it until the ancient fabric tore under my nails. I scanned his blotchy, red skin. Years of alcohol abuse had permanently changed his appearance. I waited one more moment, waiting for hesitation to set in. When it didn't come, I lowered the object over his face and pressed my fists into either side of the headrest, putting as much pressure behind my reason to come home as my newly trained strength allowed. I cut off his oxygen supply. First, he didn't move. My father had too much booze in his system to wake up when he was about to die. Then, his limbs started jerking. I didn't startle at the sudden movement, simply tightened my hold. One hand grasped for me, but it never made contact. His arm flailed in the air without finding its target. His legs twitched. I didn't let go. The whole scene was over faster than I'd expected. Even after his palms landed in his lap and he stilled, I didn't let up. I had to make sure he would no longer be a threat.
My father had triggeredMcKenna's fate. Denielle Keller had been a nail in her coffin. I repeated the sentence in my head over and over as I bandaged my knuckles. I had let my dick take over my thinking. No matter what was going on with Denielle and why she was terrified of her ex, it was of no consequence to me. I let my grief for not protecting my sister cloud my judgment.
Dressed, I had placed a call to Ethan. I should have let Keller run face-first into her wall of lies. Lilly was supposed to be her best friend. She opened her home, yet Denielle kept a shit ton of secrets from her.
I had done it for Lilly, my friend.