Page 29 of Kings Don't Break

My heart drops, and I shake my head fervently from left to right. “You didn’t do anything, Ken.”

“Because I must’ve done something.” He moves closer, slow at first, ’til he explodes a second later. He bursts toward me, screaming in my face. “I MUST’VE DONE SOMETHING FOR MY WIFE TO RUIN MY LIFE LIKE THIS!”

I flinch from the sheer volume of his voice. My fingers squeeze the plastic bottle of dishwasher detergent and accidentally squirt a straight shot of soap into Ken’s eyes.

“ARGH!” he roars.

My mouth falls open in horror. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean?—”

The back of his hand collides with my cheek and wipes out everything.

My words. My thoughts. My balance as the blow knocks me backward and the bottle of dishwasher detergent slips out of my grasp.

If not for the kitchen counter and cabinets, I’d be on the floor.

I slump against the counter, trying to remain vertical, but it feels impossible when the room spins and blood wets my lips.

More loud silence follows the violence.

I’m speechless and Ken’s fuming. It’s etched onto his face as he wipes the soap from his eyes and glares at me from where he stands.

“What did you just do to my baby?”

Mama’s wandered into the kitchen in her robe and fuzzy slippers. Instead of wearing her usual perplexed expression, she’s surveying the scene before her with knitted brows and a pinched mouth. Her disgust rolls off her in a thick wave.

Even Ken seems thrown by it. “Sunny?—”

“You just hit my daughter,” she says, taking a step closer. “How dare you put your hands on my baby?”

“Mama, please… stop.”

“Sunny, go upstairs. This is between me and Korine.”

But once Mama gets going, there’s no slowing her down. She marches up to Ken and jams a finger in his chest, her fuzzy slippers scratching against the floor.

“I should’ve known you’re nothing but a bully! You should be ashamed of yourself. You think you’re going to hurt my daughter, then you’ve got another thing coming. I’m calling the police!”

“Mama, no!”

“Sunny, get the fuck upstairs!”

The situation spirals out of control more than it already has.

Mama turns around to go find a phone. Ken leaps at her in an attempt to stop her. His shoulder slams into her from behind. Mama tips over with a frightened whimper as she’s shoved to the ground.

“MAMA!” I scream, snapping into action. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER!”

Something flicks on inside me. Some kind of survival mode, an attack mode I’ve never gone into around Ken.

But the sight of him putting his hands on Mama is too much. As he reaches to pull her up by the collar of her robe for another strike, I’m throwing myself at him. My fists smash into any part of him I can reach. My legs do the same. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs as I insert myself between them.

It’s immediately evident I’m no match for him, a man twice my size and a police officer that’s been well trained on physical confrontations.

Ken has no problem redirecting his ire. He blocks my swing and then flips me upside down. I land hard on my back, feeling like my spine has shattered. I haven’t even begun to process the pain shooting through me before Ken’s giving more. He draws back his foot and delivers what can only be called an inhumane kick to my side.

One turns into two, which snowballs into three and four. My body arches and I cry out in pain. In futile hope that he’ll take mercy and stop.

But he’s only getting started—he pins me to the ground where I am, his weight pressing down on me, his face a scary mask of rage and hatred.