Brood by Blood Joy

Author:Blood, Joy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

I force air into my lungs after I reach the room, shutting the door behind me. Flashbacks of Butch’s tyranny come rolling back at full force, making me relive the horrors of the night he grabbed me and tossed me into the back of his truck.

Mom told me to stay hidden here and not to come out unless her or dad came to the door. The little cupboard that I used to hide in as a child is stacked with cans of soup and boxes of pasta. I stare at them as the noise from outside gets louder. I can’t tell what it is, but then it suddenly clicks. Bikes. At first, I think it is just some of their friends visiting, then why would mom make me hide if that were true? I’m only sixteen, but I’m not stupid. The rumbling of the bikes comes to a stop, and all goes quiet, so quiet I almost think that mom will be coming back any minute to get me. I’m about to push open the door and peek out when a popping noise comes from outside. It almost sounds like the fireworks we light off for the fourth of July. Screaming comes right after. My hand clamps over my mouth, forcing back the scream of my own that tries to escape. Stay quiet. Mom’s voice rings in my ears as tears roll down my cheeks.

I stay there for what seems like an eternity before the noises finally stop. I still don’t move. Not until the sound of the bikes leaving will I get up and out of this small hiding. I don’t get that chance though. Heavy footsteps come pounding into our house as the sloshing of liquid starts splashing on the floor. My nose crinkles at the smell of gasoline as it drifts through the cupboard door. “Hurry the fuck up and light it. We’ve been here too long,” someone shouts, then the front door slams.

“Rest in peace, Saints,” another voice says right before sudden warmth spreads along the confines of my hiding place. They just lit the place on fire! Panic rises through me, and I know I can’t wait any longer, or I will for sure be dead. Flinging open the door I do my best to avoid the flames, but they are everywhere. I run as fast as I can right through them. I don’t even see any of the men standing outside as I burst through the front door of the only home I have ever known and drop down onto the ground to roll. The stop, drop and roll my parents taught me as a child comes back instantly, something I thought I would never have to use.

“Son of a bitch!” someone calls out, and suddenly I’m being patted down, the heat from the flames slowly starting to fade as something else creeps across me. Fear. When the person helping me to extinguish the small flames that clung to my clothes is satisfied they got them all, I’m dragged to my feet.

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