Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

PART I

A BROKEN HOME

Chapter One

CANE

Past

I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. Fuck him, I’m not afraid!

Those words chimed in my head, but it didn’t stop my heart from pounding in my chest.

A crackle of thunder rumbled in the sky, a spark of lightning revealing the dark corners of my room. The light in the hallway was on and the floor creaked. I swallowed the bile in my throat.

I prayed it was Mama coming down the hall, but by the sound of the heavy footsteps and the deep breathing, I knew it wasn’t her. I took a step back and hit the wall, wishing I could blend in with it, or even pass through it like a ghost. A ghost meant I would be dead, and in that moment, the last thing I wanted to be was alive.

The doorknob jiggled. My breathing became shallow.

I was glad I’d hidden Lorelei. I heard his truck pull up and hid her in the attic. I told her to try and stay up there until I came for her. She always thought I was brave, but if she could have seen me now, she would have thought otherwise.

I thought about hiding too, or at least running away, but knew he would have torn the house to shreds just to find us. He needed someone to take his anger out on. If it wasn’t Mom, it was us.

I hated when he hurt them, so I always made sure to be around. Every time they wound up with a bruise, their lies only fueled my anger. I was so tired of dealing with his shit.

I was fourteen now. I’d developed a little muscle, some height too, but it was nothing in comparison to his. I couldn’t wait until the day I was big enough to take him down.

My bedroom door swung open, the doorknob crashing into the wall, and his silhouette was all I could make out.

Broad shoulders.

Thick arms.

Shaggy brown hair.

“The fuck you doin’ here in the dark?” he snapped. He was always annoyed about something. Even if I was minding my own business or doing my homework, that annoyed him. My room was about the size of a box, so when he spoke, I could smell the liquor on his breath. I hated when he drank. He was even more hostile than usual.

“I’m getting ready to for bed,” I said, keeping my chin up.

“You talkin’ back to me, boy?” He took three steps forward. Two more and he would have been right in front of me.

“No sir,” I answered.

“Sounds like you are.” He turned his head to take a look around my room. “Why the hell isn’t this room clean?”

I looked with him. “It is clean. I cleaned it this morning. Mama said it was fine.”

“Your mama?” He let out a scratchy, belly-deep laugh. “You really listening to your mama? You know she doesn’t know shit! You can’t listen to a damn thing that woman says. For one, she’s a goddamn liar.” I could see his teeth when he spoke, slick and sharp. They reminded me of razors.

“Come here,” he ordered. He grabbed my upper arm and squeezed it, and I fought a yelp as he dragged me toward my bed and forced me to sit down. He took the spot beside me, releasing my arm to grip the back of my neck. He squeezed my neck and I tried to hunch my shoulders in hopes that he’d pull his hand away, but he only squeezed harder.

My eyes burned. Tears threatened to spill over, but fuck that. I refused to cry. I was done crying over him.

“Drove by the diner earlier,” he continued, “Saw your mama all smiley and happy while serving some man in a suit. I know she has to be nice for those tips and all, but… shit. She don’t have to be so nice, to the point she has her titties all in his face like a fucking whore.” He breathed harder, still clutching my neck.

Relief struck me when he shoved me away and my knees hit the floor with a hard thunk.

I rubbed the back of my neck as he stood up to pull the string on my fan and switch the light on. “This room is fucking filthy,” he grimaced. “I tell you what. If it ain’t clean when I get back in the next ten minutes, you’ll have a price to pay. You hear me? And you won’t like what I bring with me.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered quickly. He left the room and I hurried to pick up what little I could find. I really didn’t have much. I had a few books and baseball cards on my dresser. I didn’t have a TV or that many shoes or shoeboxes. I straightened the rumple in the bed that he’d just created by forcing us to sit, but there wasn’t much else for me to do.