Now though, I couldn’t keep it buried, not anymore.
I knew it was Mack. I knew it was whatever change had come over me in the last week since being with him, whatever strength he’d given me, whatever anger he unleashed in my heart. Before Mack, I never would have the guts for this.
But I was all guts these days and sick of pretending like anything mattered.
“What would you rather that I kept doing it? That I did it to you instead?” He stepped toward me, eyes dead and raging like the old days. “You want me to hurt you now? That won’t bring the boy back.”
“Connor, it won’t bring Connor back.”
“I did what I had to do. He was born into a hard life and if I didn’t toughen him up, the street would do it for me.” He stared at me, a vein popping out on his neck. “And I failed him. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped. Maybe I was too easy and should’ve hit him harder.”
“You’re sick. You know that, don’t you? You think you were trying to do him a favor?”
“This life isn’t for the weak.”
“He was your little boy.”
“Enough,” Dad shouted, eyes bugging out, baring his teeth. “I don’t want to hear any more from you as if you know a damn thing about any of this. You ran away the first chance you got and I let you go because I felt guilty about what I did to your brother when you were little, but I’m not going to let that hold me back any longer.”
He came at me then, walking with a purpose.
All I wanted was some time alone to think about things. Instead, I stumbled right back into another stupid trap, just like the first time. God, I was so dumb, so worthless.
I should give in.
Let Dad hit me the way he hit Connor.
I could make up for all those nights I spent hiding in my closet while Connor took the beating, over and over again.
All those nights I failed to come out and help.
All those days I never said a word.
Never asked for help.
I screamed as Dad backhanded me across the face. I felt my lip smash into my tooth and tasted the iron tang of blood. I staggered sideways and hit the wall.
The front door exploded open and a body barreled inside like a blur.
Dad barely had time to shout in surprise as Mack rammed a fist into his face.
I heard myself screaming, but it wasn’t until later that I realized I was begging him to stop.
Mack smashed another fist into Dad’s face, shoved him up against the coffee table, and rammed his forehead into Dad’s nose. Dad was bloody, lolling limp and groaning, and Mack hit him again, and again, and again. A tooth came loose and Dad looked like a piece of battered meat, his features cracked and shattered.
Mack hit him one more time then stood breathing hard above Dad’s limp body.
“Oh, god,” I groaned and got to my feet. I staggered over to Mack and stood behind him, staring down at Dad. “Is he dead?”
“Not yet.” Mack took a gun from his waistband and pointed it at my father’s head.
“No,” I said, shoving the gun away.
Mack’s face was emotionless. That scared me more than anything else. “He saw me. He knows now.”
“Please.” I stared into his eyes. I touched his cheek.
So tender and gentle. But a monster.
“He saw my face. If you let him go, he’ll tell them, and this’ll all be over. Who matters more? Your dad or Connor?”
I stepped away from him. Dad groaned.
My mind worked in furious circles.
“Think about it,” Mack said, voice still eerily calm. “He knows we were together. He saw my face and he knows who I am. He’ll tell someone sooner or later, and even if you let him in on what’s going down with your brother, do you really trust him to keep quiet? You think he’ll choose your brother over the family? You know he won’t. Connor will pay the price for all this.”
“We can’t know that.”
“You really want to defend the man that used to beat your brother bloody every night? You want to risk your brother’s life for this scumbag?” Mack’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the gun tighter.
He was right. I knew he was right. If we let Dad walk out of this room then he’d tell someone and that would be the end of all this. The Lionettis would hear and they’d kill Connor, and I would’ve failed my little brother again, all because I tried to protect my father.
Who didn’t deserve my protection.
But he was still my dad. It felt like a hot poker was shoved into my chest and there was no way to wriggle away from it, no way to get out of this fucked-up, broken situation.