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“It’s okay, son,” he says quietly, squeezing my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
66
Jace
The firstthudcomes just as I’ve closed my eyes for the night, praying for a moment of peace in my slumber. I ignore it, hoping it’s just in my head.
The secondthudhappens a few seconds later, and I sigh, resigned to my fate as I push the covers to the side and slip out of bed.
“Where the fuck are you?” Grandpa yells, and I slowly, carefully make my way downstairs.
It’s two a.m. I’d spent the majority of the night looking for him. I’d driven through and around town, using a flashlight to search every ditch, every dumpster, everygutter.I only found him once I’d given up for the night and returned home. He was slumped against the steps leading to the porch, and I questioned if he’d been there all night. If I’d somehow missed him. I guess I’ll never know.
It was less than ten minutes ago since I left his bedside after he fought me tooth and nail the entire way to his room.
I thought I was done for the night.
Clearly, I was wrong.
I barely make it to the living room before he charges at me, hisshoulder hitting me square in the gut, pushing all the air from my lungs when I crash into the wall behind me.
“Grandpa,” I groan, trying to catch my breath. I wasn’t prepared for the instant onslaught. My mistake. The sharpness of the pain slices through me, spreads from my stomach, and up to my neck. “Grandpa, it’s me. It’s Jace.”
But he doesn’t hear me.
Forearm pressed to my throat, his fist collides with my ribcage, winding me completely, and I fold in on myself. Earn a knee to the gut. I cough, almost choke on the blood that pools in my mouth. He grabs me by the neck, forces me upright, and I close my eyes—a momentary lapse in judgement on my part, because he clocks me right in the chin, forcing the blood to spray from my lips.
He’s never hit me in the face before. It’s always been my torso. He’s on a mission tonight, his anger at a level I’ve never experienced before. Hands fisted on my collar, he tugs me to him, his face an inch from mine. “A life for a life,” he seethes, and I force myself to remember that it’s not me he sees when he’s like this. It’s notmehe’s fighting. It’s notmethat’s built this rage inside him.
It’s not me.
It’s not me.
It’s not me.
He rears back, and I gasp for air, grateful it’s over. But it’s not. He slams his forehead right into my eye, and I see stars, so many of them. Silver stars, moons, and lightning bolts flood my vision, and I don’t have time to react before he spins me by my shirt, turning me slightly, and I lose my footing as he pushes me away, then tackles me. I fall backward, my back crashing against something hard. Glass shatters, rains down on me as I crash to the floor, covering my head to shelter myself from the downfall of glass. He’s pushed me into the display cabinet, one that held his memories ofbefore. “Stop, Grandpa,” I beg, and it’s the first time I’ve ever asked this of him. Still, it’s not enough for him to slow. To stop.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
But he doesn’t. He only doubles down, straddling my waist as his hands circle my neck. Shards of glass crunch beneath our weight, and I can’t see out of one eye. I’m choking, gasping for air, but I force my limbs to remain still. Force my mind totake it.
Because I can.
And he can’t.
But I swore I’d never let him take me to the ground, because if he did, I knew he would kill me.
“Grandpa,” I choke out and hope that’s enough.
I’m nothim, I want to say, but my need for oxygen drains out of me faster than I thought, faster than I’m ready, and the only sound that falls from my lips is silence.
Darkness looms, hanging over me, and then… then he releases his hold, and I gasp for air. Pain ricochets through every inch of my body, through every muscle, every organ.
“Grandpa,” I groan. “Stop now, okay?”