"If you think you're going to take my son from me, you got another thing coming. You can take your bitch of a daughter if you want. She ain't good for anything. Not yet anyway. Second thought, maybe I'll keep her. Then when she gets old enough, she can use what's between her legs to benefit me." Daddy’s voice drifts up, and I can feel the blood draining from my face as I begin to shake.
"She's your daughter, Mark. How can you talk about her like that?" Momma shouts just as the sound of glass breaking booms through the house.
Luca shuts the door and locks it. Only then does he move back over to the bed, sitting down beside me.
"You got to promise me, VeeVee, if that fucker ever does something to you, more than he does to you now, that you will run and hide." Luca turns to look at me with fierceness in his eyes, his lips pursed, face filled with anger and determination.
"I promise," I stammer.
The sound of feet pounding on the stairs gets louder and louder, before we hear the rattling of the door handle as someone tries to turn it with no success.
"Open the fucking door," Daddy shouts from the other side, just before he begins to pound his fist heavily on it.
"No!" Luca screams, his body tensing up.
"I said, open the fucking door. Don't make me break it down," he barks back.
My chest tightens, each breath shallow and shaky. I'm afraid of what he'll do to me, to Luca, and most importantly, what he's already done to our momma. God, I hope she's okay. I know that if she were, she’d be right there trying to coax Daddy away. And she isn’t.
A series of hard thuds sound at the door, and I watch it shake with the force of whatever he’s throwing against it. It continues a few more times before the wood splinters and the door flies open, banging against the wall. Our very angry and haggard-looking father stumbles inside before catching his balance.
"Get up, Luca, and pack your shit," he orders.
"No," Luca replies, pulling me closer.
He's always been my protector. I've always been the one bullies love to harass, all because my clothes are tattered, and my shoes have holes. After Luca took them on, they only bullyme now when he isn't around. At home, he's always the buffer for my father's anger.
"Boy, I don't got time for your sass. Get your shit and let's go."
"I ain't going with you. I'm staying here with Momma and VeeVee," Luca says boldly as he scoots off the bed and stands in front of me, with his hands fisted at his sides. Ready to block any attempt our father makes to get to me.
"Luca, let’s go. That cunt mother of yours thinks she's going to take you away from me, and that’s only happening over my dead body."
"I ain't going, and don't talk about my momma like that." Luca stands firm against him.
Daddy storms across the room, stopping right in front of him.
"If I were you, boy, I'd remember who I am and what I can do. You know, if you want to keep fighting me, I can take one of the people you love the most out of the equation with just a phone call.” An evil glint fills Daddy’s eyes as he gazes at me with a smirk on his face. “Hiram's had his eye on your sister for a while."
Luca looks back over his shoulder at me, his face ghostly white, and whispers, “I love you.”
"If I go, you'll leave her alone?" Luca’s shaky voice asks Daddy, who nods in reply. I’ve never in my life heard fear in his voice like I do now.
Who is this Hiram?
"Okay," Daddy answers, but it doesn’t sound convincing.
The corners of Daddy’s lips turn up in a sadistic smile as he lets out a laugh. He turns to walk out, stopping at the doorway. "Be ready in five minutes." He turns back and leaves the room, turning down the hallway toward their bedroom.
"Luca, no, please don't go." I crawl off the bed, wrapping my arms around him, begging him not to go. Not to leave me.
"I have to. He'll keep hurting Momma if I don't, and worst of all, you. Hiram is a bad man, VeeVee, and I can't let anything happen to you."
"But Luca—" I start, but he interrupts me.
"VeeVee, I have to. But I promise I will see you again. Just don't forget me."
Luca kisses my forehead before pulling away from me. He goes to the closet, pulls out his gym bag, and dumps the contents on the floor. Opening his dresser drawer, he starts shoving his clothes into the bag. I watch him intently, memorizing every detail about him: the dimples in his cheek, the small scar above his eye, all while my heart breaks into a million pieces.
