My tongue runs along the front of my teeth as my heart races. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe YOU are the mistake? It’s clearly stated in the letter, shall I read it for a better understanding?” His eyes shift, his snarl deepens, and there it is, the monster.
Grant puffs his chest out as his temper comes to play.Let’s fucking dance. “You!” He takes a step around the corner, working his way towards me. “The best thing I can do for society is take you out of it!” I smile at him because I know he is seething, and it makes me smirk with enjoyment, knowing I am recording this entire conversation. “Think I’m lying, you little prick?” I shake my head no, working my way out of the kitchen.
“I’m wishing you’d believe what everyone is trying to tell you, Grant. You are a worthless piece of shit who beats people to feel superior, you're a traffic cop, and you walk around like fucking Superman for fuck sakes.” His fists clench with madness. “Can’t even have a conversation without throwing a tantrum like a little bitch.” That did it. The final straw, he lunges towards me, when I take the lamp sitting on the side table and smack him with it. Blood trickles down from where the glass made contact. Levi 1- Grant 0.Wow, that felt good as fuck.
“Beating you pleased me. Starving you brought me joy. Watching the boy I tried to turn into a man fall and stay down was pitiful. You get what you deserve. If you can’t fight, then you bleed! If you can't listen, then you starve. If you tarnish my good name, you die!” His chest rises and falls with hate and absolution. His arm comes back, throwing his punch with force. I block him and leap away from the wall. “You think anyone will ever believe you? Did they believe you when you told your teacher? No. Did they believe you when you came back from ‘vacation’? No. There is not a person on this goddamn planet who will believe a piece of shit like you, boy.”
Anger now boiling deep within. I propel my body onto him, taking him down. His body hits the ground with a large thud before my fist makes contact with his smug face. My legs wrap around him, pressing my weight into him, keeping him on the floor.
“I will plead my case from prison if I have to, because this is the last time you will lay your hand on my sister or me.” My hand moves, throwing punches into his face, his eye, his nose, his mouth, and beating him into the floor beneath us, begging for his breath and movements to stop beneath me. Using the arm, he’s wrangled free, he flings me over onto my back. Looking up at his bleeding face, peace washes over me now that I am finally doing it, making the devil bleed. Throwing up my knee, I hit his balls, watching him suck in a breath. I roll from under him, jumping to my feet. “Didn’t think I’d do any damage down there, nothing to fucking hit.” His lip snarls up as he wipes the blood from his mouth. I slide the couch into him, using force to drive it across the room. Moving to the dining room, Grant flips the table. “That wasn’t very mature, Grant. Do we need to go without dinner?” He runs his tongue over his bloody lip before reaching across the now broken table, attempting to grab me. “It’s not as fun when we fight back, is it?”
“Any time I get to make you bleed is fun, Levi. Come closer, and I'll show you how liberating it is for me.” An evil grin crosses his bloody face.
Our hearts beat rapidly as we breathe through our rage and determination to take one another down. Grant goes to move around the back side of the table, but I quickly grab the chair and launch it at him. He sweeps his pulsing arm up, blocking the chair, and it crashes onto the floor, breaking as it lands. Sweat drips from his forehead as his grimace hardens. Turning to grab another, he latches onto my wrist, yanking me into him, where his other fist flies through the air, making contact with my cheek. A sickly crack follows. Fuck. Using my leg, I swipe him out from under him, as he takes me down with him.
Our arms and legs are at war, throwing breathless movements, hoping like hell to make contact. Grant is gruntingas he tries to flip me onto my back. Taking my fingers, I scratch his eye with my nail, hoping the catfight-like move stuns him. He grabs both my arms, placing them on the ground beneath me, using his bowling ball knees to lock them down. His weight presses my back into the hardwood. Using my tired legs, I push and kick his back, yet it has no effect, given that he is twice my size.
“I hate you, and one day you will get what you deserve for what you have done to us. Until then, it felt good to beat your ass, and watch you bleed, just like you made us.” My words are crisp, breathless, and before I can say anything else, he rears his fist back, with reddened knuckles, and reminds me how it feels to take his punch.
Brutal power strikes me in the face, not once but twice, feeling the pain radiate from the contact as it spreads out, spreading throughout my cheekbone. My eye is next, feeling the socket itself burst, absolute turmoil. Trying to wrangle my arms free, I think about wrapping my arms around his neck, taking his breath from him until he turns cold and blue. I get one arm out, sending it flying into his face, and spit falls from his mouth as he hangs over me. Taking my arm, he bends it until it snaps. Excruciating pain radiates from my forearm, and my fingers tingle as they start to go numb. I scream into his face as he leans down, breathing into me, and all I feel is agony.
“That’s it, boy, scream for help, because no one is going to save you.” He leans over me, with my good arm still pinned down and my other arm immobilized. I try to use my legs to push him off, but it doesn't work. He sends punch after punch after punch, making blood pour from my nose, mouth, and possibly eye. Honestly, everything is hazy, and I feel a burning sensation along my nose—the metallic taste of blood dripping into my lips. I watch him with blurry vision as blood smears across his facefrom my blows. His eye is just as swollen, and his lip is split from my assault with the lamp.
I feel the pressure release from my chest as he stands, drawing back his boot, he crashes it into my ribs, sending a gut-wrenching ache throughout my body. Again, he makes contact, sending discomfort down my side into my leg. Kicking the breath out of me, each breath after stings, shallow and laced with torment. All I see is his bulky shadow as my vision comes and goes. “I have every want to kill you, boy, and one day I will, but today isn't that day. If you die after I walk out this door, it will be easy to fake a break-in. I know I broke your ribs, your arm, hopefully punctured your lung, and your nose. Face it, you are not strong enough to survive. Let this be your final lesson.” With that, he leaves me on the floor, broken and bleeding. I gave it everything I had; I just hope the audio will be enough to save Scarlett.
Reaching for my phone, I call David.
“Hello?” David’s voice is soft on the other end of the line.
“David. Help,” Wheezing through my shallow breaths, “Come—phone— listen to— save Scarl—.” I try to finish, there is so much to say, but not enough life left to speak. There is no air left to breathe, no light left to see. The blood runs down my throat as my breath leaves me, and everything goes black, giving the ultimate sacrifice, my life.
Chapter 49
Catastrophic Avalanche
David
‘David, help.’ The sound of the boy I now call son begs me through the earpiece of my phone. His breath is ragged, his words are faint, and his plea stops my heart. Instantly, I jump from my recliner, moving towards the door, while Levi tries to speak, something about a phone, listening, and saving Scarlett.No, no, no, that son of a bitch will not take my son. Yanking open the door, I haul ass across the cold grass as the street lights illuminate the ground beneath me. Grant's car is gone, the front door left ajar.
Without hesitation, my legs carry me through the threshold, red bloody fingerprints mark the wooden doorframe, smeared in haste and carelessness.
My body stills at the sight before me—wreckage, everywhere. The couch is pushed into the opposite wall, and the chair is tipped on its side. Blood droplets form a pathway across the living room floor. My palms begin to sweat, my heart slams into my chest, quickening my steps. My tear-filled eyes scan the dismantled room, moving into the dining room where the table lies on its side, and the chairs are scattered in broken pieces.Where are you, Levi?
Rounding the flipped kitchen table, I spot Levi motionless, lying sprawled out on the floor, soaked in blood.Oh God, son.I can feel my chin quivering at a hundred miles an hour, as my body vibrates with unease.
Kneeling next to him, my hand rests on his chest, begging to feel his generous heart thrumming against my fingers. “Stay with me, son, breathe for me, Levi.” Flipping out my phone, my bloody, trembling hands dial 911. After relaying the details, I begin CPR, while begging him to breathe.
My hands pump into his chest, wondering if I’m doing more harm than good. His face is swollen, layered with dried blood, inflamed, cracked, and gashed. Taking in his mutilated face, I can physically feel my heart breaking. With each glance, a sliver breaks for my son. As I place my forehead to his, a tear falls, streaming down his battered face, creating a pathway through the blood and chaos that marks his youthful skin. “Breath for me, son.” Anguish washes over me as I feel the tightness in my chest, where he once brought laughter. My trembling hands that once tossed his hair now press down, begging for his heart to beat back into rhythm.
I can feel my brows nearly touching in a deep V as my eyes focus on any movements of his. Skimming his mangled body for any sign of life and pressing my lips together firmly, I do my best to hold back a sob that is on the brink of escaping. Time seems infinite.
The longer I sit here with his body in my arms, the harder I beg for his heart to beat for me, for Scarlett, for Anna, for Spencer.Oh god, my son, my dear boy, is about to lose his best friend. I am about to lose my son.No. No. I won’t. I can’t. This is not the end, I won’t let it be, it can’t be, it won’t. Will it?I try to be strong as my mind spirals with uncertainty, emotions breach the gates of strength, outpouring a catastrophic avalanche of tears and agonizing cries that fill the silence of the hollow house.
In my state of desperate pleas, the door flies open, filling the space with paramedics as they usher me to the side, taking over.
As they lift him, I watch his body fall limp in their arms, and that’s when it hits me: I couldn’t save him.
Chapter 50
