Page 42 of The Heart That Breaks
“Why haven’t you started supper? You think your mama should be fixing it after working all day?”
“I will,” I say.
“And how long’s that going to take you? You expect the two of us to sit around and wait? Didn’t I tell you to start supper before you start homework?”
“You did,” I say.
“So why didn’t you listen?”
Anger lights a fuse inside me, and it is all I can do to bite my tongue and not respond. I know that to do so will only enrage him, and I have no desire to go there. I leave the backpack sitting next to the bed and walk past him and out of the bedroom.
By the time I reach the kitchen, he is right behind me, grabbing my arm.
“Ow,” I say, wrenching free. “That hurt.”
“You’ll get a lot worse than that if you don’t start listening to what I tell you.”
I know I should bite my tongue, but I can’t convince myself to do so, and the words spill out of me, toppling one over the other like doomed dominos. “You’re not my father, and you have no right to tell me anything at all!”
His already blotchy face reddens to an alarming degree. He raises a hand, and I brace for the blow.
But he stops himself, his eyes narrowing to slits of hatred. “You little bitch. You have no idea what it means to be grateful, do you?”
“For what?” I ask, even as I realize I am fanning the fire.
“The fact that I’m willing to be seen with your mother. You think she would ever be able to get a man like me without me taking pity on her?”
A laugh bubbles up, but I force my lips together to prevent it from coming out. He’s serious. Amazingly enough. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Why? I thought you were such a stickler for the truth. That’s what I’m giving you. Just like I told you the truth about that stupid dog of yours. He’s a danger to society. Actually, I never should have let you keep him. I’ll be rethinking that.”
If hate has anything in common with acid, there’s a very good chance it will dissolve my bones. “You have no say over it.”
“Oh, you think you know how to persuade your mama better than I do?” He laughs a despicable laugh. “I assure you I’m gonna win that one.”
“You say a word against Henry, and I’ll tell her what you’ve been trying to do to me.” Just saying the words out loud makes me feel sick.
“No, you won’t. Because you wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings. See, I know you, Ann-Elizabeth. Better than you know yourself, apparently.”
“Don’t test me. You might be surprised.”
“I don’t think so.” He takes a step toward me, reaches out a hand to touch my hair. My skin crawls. I move back, and he laughs.
“Such a little virgin, aren’t you? I could help you out with that, you know. You don’t want to leave it up to some fumbling teenager whose only experience is taking care of business with a magazine, do you?”
“Get out, Lance. Now. I mean it!”
My voice rises to a note so sharp that it hurts the back of my throat, and I feel instantly nauseous.
“Settle down,” he says, the words honey sweet. “I’m willing to wait until you’re on board with the idea.”
“That will never happen,” I say. “Get out of my room before Mama finds you in here.”
He takes a step back, raising a hand in temporary concession. “We’ll put this on hold for now, little girl. But I don’t give up easy. You remember that, okay?”
As soon as he’s out the door, I slam it shut behind him and flip the flimsy lock. He could cave the whole thing in with one shoulder, but I don’t think he will since Mama will be home any minute.
I fall across the bed and smother my instant sobs in my pillow. I hate myself for the tears, hate the weakness that makes me fear him. I’m shaking so hard I can barely breathe. I turn my face on the pillow and gulp in air.
