Page 70 of Nightshades

I grind my teeth, curling my fingers until my hands are tight fists.

Watching through the door, the father grabs the salad bowl and throws it against the wall. The glass bowl shatters, the teenage boy lifting his arm in pain as a shard ricochets off the wall, embedding itself in his arm.

“Fuck!” the boy shouts.

“Don’t talk to me that way!” His father backhands him, sending the young man to the floor.

I gasp, taking another step forward, twisting my restless hands together as I watch the violence unfold.

“You act like you run this household,” he slurs at the mother. “I work. I provide. What the fuck do you do?” He rips her from her seat and, to my surprise, throws her through the door.

The glass shatters from the force, the sound of the door breaking has goosebumps pimpling on my skin, and the air frozen in my lungs.

Blood tints the layer of snow on the ground. She whimpers, pieces of glass sticking in her arms, her face. Nothing that will kill her, but enough for her to be in a lot of pain.

I sprint to her, forgetting that I’m useless. I fall to my knees, skidding across the thin layer of ice, and try to help her up.

“You have to move. You have to get up. Come on.” I try to grab her, my hands sinking through her as if I’m a ghost.

I suppose in a way I am.

“Come on, please,” I beg for her to hear me. “Please, move.” I gesture my arm out to the road. “Run. Run as far as you can. Don’t look back.”

She stands on trembling legs, her jeans stained with fresh blood as those sharp shards stick out from various parts of her body.

“Shade,” she wheezes for the boy. “Shade, run, My Love. Run!”

I gasp, turning my head too fast, and I become dizzy when I stare at him trying to push himself to his feet.

“Shade?” I mutter to myself in confusion, wondering why I’m able to see such an intimate, horrible memory.

“Shade!” his mother screams at the top of her lungs when her husband flips Shade over, grips him by his shirt with one hand, and with his other, begins to hit him.

I cover my mouth with my hands, tears brimming in my eyes. “Shade!” I scream so loud, I taste blood in my throat, hoping to cut through the barrier the dream creates.

Every punch to his face has my stomach turning. His father’s knuckles become bloody, and rage burns bright in his father’s bright blue eyes—the piercing ice color that sears into someone’s soul.

“No! Stop! You’re going to kill him!” I run inside, doing my best to grab his father’s hand to stop him, but I can’t touch anything. None of my attempts work. I’m left to watch the scene unfold.

I fall to my knees, tears wetting my face.

“Shade!” His mother stumbles into the house, needing a hospital more than she needs to stop her abuser. She grabs the nearest thing, a plate, and smashes it on her husband’s face.

It stops him from hitting Shade, whose face is beyond recognition. Blood is everywhere. His nose is broken. Shade coughs, spewing blood onto his chin.

“Shade. Shade, I’m here. You can’t see me, but I’m here. I’m right here.” I try to take his hand, the phantom of my touch sliding through his. That only frustrates me further. “You aren’t alone,” I yell at him through tight teeth, my jaw clenched in so much rage that if I had my gun, I would shoot his father dead without a care in the fucking world.

I’d make sure the last thing he ever saw was the abyss of my nine millimeter barrel staring him in the face.

“Don’t fucking touch my son again.” His mother grabs a fork from the table, stabbing his father in the neck.

Anything can be used as a weapon when one is desperate enough.

“Shade. Shade.” I try to shake him awake, to get him to hear me. “Your mom needs you. Please, wake up. Please.” More tears fall, hating to know all the abuse he went through in his life.

“Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life.” Her husband yanks the fork from his neck, tosses it over his shoulder, and it clanks to the ground behind him. “Both of youhave made my life so miserable that every day, I hate you more. I wish neither of you existed. I dream of your deaths with a smile on my face.”

I curl over Shade to protect him, even knowing that I can’t. “I have you. You aren’t alone,” I whisper into his ear. “I’m right here. I won’t let him get you. I’ll do my best to protect you. I’m so sorry this was your life. I’m so sorry, Shade, but I promise, it gets better. While it might not seem like it, it does. I have you.” I pet his buzzed head with reassurance, knowing he can’t feel it, but it makes me feel better—like I’m actually doing something to make this situation better.