Deeper.
Rawer.
From years and years of pain.
“Love the hair, Dais,” Lily says as we get closer, but her voice breaks, like she knows something bad is about to happen.
And my brother—he breathes heavily, pure malice coating his amber eyes. His nose flares, and then he starts walking towards me.
I stop in my place. “Daisy,” I tell her. “Go to your sisters.”
“Ryke—”
“Fucking go,” I growl.
She backs away from me, not joining her sisters. But she gives me enough space as my brother approaches with a frosty glare.
I don’t know what this is about.
Maybe our father.
Maybe Daisy.
Maybe something else.
Maybe all of the above.
I have a laundry list of bad fucking deeds with good intentions.
“Lo.” I hold out my hands in defense, surrender, mercy. I’m raising a white flag. I don’t want to hit him. I can’t hit him. “What’s wrong? Let’s talk about this.” He’s only ten feet away now.
“You wanna talk about it?” His voice is full of pain. “I gave you a million fucking chances to talk about it,” he sneers. “I’m so done talking to you.” His fist flies and hits my jaw hard. I go down when his knee drives into my stomach.
I cough roughly.
“Lo, stop!” Daisy screams.
I turn my head, and my heart pitches to my throat. She’s running towards us, but Connor is faster and stronger. He picks her up while she thrashes in his arms.
My eyes soften in thanks. I barely produce that look of gratitude before Lo punches my face again. I turn my head and spit blood onto the dirt.
I hear Lily in the background, trying to tell Lo to calm down. I hear Connor, telling all of the girls to let us work this out.
He knows this fight was going to happen sooner or later.
It’s finally arrived, and the agony tears at my chest. Not physical pain. Even as his third swing connects with my jaw—I can take those hits.
It’s the torment in my little brother’s eyes. It’s the way he’s looking at me—like I betrayed him. Like I ruined his life. Like I ripped up his fucking soul. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t mean to cause him more misery. You should have left him alone.
But he would have been drunk! He would still be fucking drinking if I didn’t walk into his life. I shook him as hard as I could back then. I brought him to rehab. I talked to him nearly every night during his ninety day recovery, and afterwards, I looked after him.
Yeah? Look at him now.
Fuck! I want to punch something—I’m silently screaming for this internal battle to finally end.
“Hit me,” he sneers.
I shake my head, my fingers digging into the red dirt, trying to form fists. Stop, Ryke. I could so easily stand up and beat the hell out of him. And he’ll let me. It’s what he wants. He’s asking for that pain. It’s like at that Halloween party when I first saw him three years ago.
He’s begging to feel something more than these emotions, suffocating with this torment. He’s asking for me to replace this fucking torture. And right now, I can’t feed into that illness. I can’t.
“Come on,” he sneers, his eyes reddening with rage and sorrow. Tears welling. “I’ve seen you beat the shit out of guys twice the size of me. I know you want to punch me.” He steps towards me. “Fight back!”
I pick myself off the ground, staggering unsteadily. “I won’t.”
He shoves me in the chest.
I raise my hands. “Lo—”
He punches me again. I stumble backwards but keep my balance this time.
Daisy wails in the background. “STOP IT!” She’s crying.
Lily is crying.
I even think Rose may be crying. But she dusts off her tears quickly and sniffs.
Lo points at me. “You’re a goddamn coward.”
Now he’s starting to sound like our father. I just keep my mouth shut.
Through gritted teeth he says, “You’re so fucking scared to talk to our dad. You’re so scared to talk to your own mom.” He takes a few steps forward. I take a few steps back. I’m the prey, the thing he’s about to skin alive.
“What do you want me to say?” I growl. “I’m fucking scared?” I point at my chest. “I’m fucking scared, Lo!” My eyes burn with this horrible fucking pain. Fucking hell. “I’m so fucking scared they’re going to manipulate me into loving them when all I want to do is forget!”