“It’s fine, Patience. Just go downstairs,” I say, moving to stand in front of her.
My grandfather is facing us, his mouth pulled into a thin smile.
“No, it’s not fine, Sam. It’s abuse!” she yells angrily.
Jesus Christ, I think I’m in love with this girl.
But she’s going to cause me a whole world of trouble if she doesn’t shut her mouth.
“Abuse?” my grandfather sneers. “How dare you! It’s discipline, young lady. Clearly you don’t get enough of it at home.”
He moves toward Patience, all pretences forgotten. I watch in almost slow motion as his hand rears back, but I step in his way and take the blow to the cheek so Patience isn’t subjected to his hate. I grunt in pain, ignoring Patience’s gasp from beside me.
“Sam!” she calls my name.
My grandfather tries to push past me to get to Patience, but he’ll have to go through me if he wants to hurt this girl.
“You little bastard.” Lifting his cane, he belts me with it. Pain explodes across my arm and shoulder.
“Get away from him,” Patience screams.
“Run, Patience,” I bark, grunting as the cane comes down again, hitting me across the back and forcing me to my knees. Fire alights my back.
He glares down at me, swinging at me again and again.
My vision blurs, and every part of my body stings like a thousand angry bees have attacked me.
Ishouldstop him.
Icouldstop him.
I’m big for my age, and he’s old and getting frailer by the day. But, of course, I don’t stop him. It’s been beaten into me to take my punishments like a man. Like a Gunner. I lift my arms to protect my face as he hits me again, and again, and again.
“I’ll get your dad,” Patience cries.
I thought she’d already left.
I squeeze my eyes closed and pray it will be over soon as the cane comes down again.
“That’s my son, Mother!” my father roars from his office. “My flesh and blood!Yourgoddamn flesh and blood!”
“Oh, please, don’t remind me,” she scoffs. “Anyway, he must have done something to incense your father like that. People don’t just lose control for no reason, Maxwell,” my grandmother replies calmly.
“Does it matter? He’s a Gunner. No one has the right to lay a hand on my son. Father drew blood, for Christ’s sake. And in front of the mayor’s daughter no less.”
Patience’s tear-streaked face as she was ushered out of the house by her mother will haunt me forever.
Sabella squeezes my hand, but my gaze is fixed on the closed door of my father’s office.
My grandfather is gone, though it was his own choice. My father didn’t throw him out and insist he never return like a normal father would. Grandmother has been in there for over an hour arguing with him.
“Don’t be such a dreamer, Maxwell. Of course, it matters. He’s a spoiled brat; they both are. A firm hand now and then never does any harm.” I hear the clink of my father’s whiskey bottle as Grandmother pours herself a drink.
My stomach clenches in anger. Sabella is anything but spoiled. She’s a people pleaser. She’s kind and pure. She’s good, not spoiled.
My father doesn’t reply for a long while, but I can’t decide if that’s a good thing. I look over at Sabella. She’s crying again, hot tears silently streaming down her cheeks. I pull her to my chest, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, and kiss the top of her head, ignoring my own pain screaming at me not to have contact with anything.
“It’s okay,” I say, but it’s not.
