Playing Patience(20)

I put my hand over my chest like I was hurt. “After all we’ve been through, snowflake. That cuts deep. I’d like to think I know you pretty damn well,” I said as I purposely looked up and down her slim figure.

Her face turned as red as her dad’s and she threw her hands in the air.

“Stop it, Zeke! He’s going to think you’re serious!”

Finally, I’d had enough and I was starting to worry that maybe I’d made things worse for her.

“Whatever you say, princess,” I said as I fell back into my chair and spread my legs out in front of me.

Crossing my arms, I peered up at both of them through my hair. I bit on my lip ring and watched as she looked up at her Dad. Her eyes were wide with fear and I suddenly felt sick to my stomach thinking about her possibly getting hit when she got home.

“I’m just screwing around,” I spit out.

Her dad looked down at her, then grabbed her hand.

“Patience, we’re leaving.” He then turned back to me. “Son, I think you need to get yourself straight. You’re headed nowhere fast.”

“I’m not your son,” I snapped. “And where I’m headed is none of your business.”

He said nothing as he turned to leave the room. Patience looked over her shoulder at me and I didn’t miss the worry in her eyes. I didn’t like it. I wasn’t her concern. I turned away and heard the door click as it shut behind them.

Three days later, I left the jailhouse with a pretty hefty fine, sixty days worth of community service, and a phone full of text messages from Javier wanting to know where his product was.





Six

Patience



The ride home from the police station was awful. Being alone in the car with my dad was insufferable. Once we made it to our side of town, I could feel the anger radiating from him. The fact that he had been silent for most of the ride scared the shit out of me. I knew once I got home I was in for it. I didn’t even want to think about what he was going to do to me.

“I had no idea this was the kind of girl you were.” He filled the silent car with his sigh. “I never thought in a million years I’d have to go to the police station and pick up my daughter. Maybe I should treat you like the juvenile delinquent you are. Would you like that, Patience? Do you want me to treat you like you look right now? Huh? Do you want me to treat you like a little whore?” His voice went from calm to vicious as he continued to talk.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I stared out the window and watched the big houses go by. I silently prayed that Lynn, our maid, was up and about. I hoped my mom’s nurse, Patricia, would be up taking care of Mom. I wished for anyone that could save me from him, but I knew in the back of my mind that he made sure we’d be alone when we got home. That thought made my stomach turn and I suddenly remembered the time I got sick and threw up on him once he was done with me. I was only nine and he told my mom that I must’ve had a twenty-four-hour stomach bug.

Once we pulled up to the house, I got out and followed him through the garage and into the house. He threw his keys onto the marble kitchen counter and ran his hands through his hair. I put my head down and started out of the kitchen, but before I got halfway out of the room, I felt his hand come around the top of my arm. My body tensed up as he spun me around to face him. I didn’t have time to think as his palm landed hard against my cheek. My ears rang and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

I reached up and covered my cheek as I looked up at him in shock. He was abusive, but not this kind of abusive. He had never hit me and now, as he looked down at me with a strange expression on his face, I knew he was taken aback by his reaction as well. His realization seemed to piss him off even more as he grabbed the tops of my arms and pushed me up against the wall.

“See what you made me do?” he said angrily. Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on my burning cheek.

I’d never been more afraid of him and the fear on my face fueled him. I didn’t even see his back hand coming as he hit me again. This time I cried out loudly. I cussed myself for making the noise. The last thing I wanted was for my mom to hear me and become alarmed. I covered my mouth with my hand and waited for him to hit me again. My cheek felt swollen and hot, so hot I expected the single tear that slid down it to sizzle. He slid his thumb under my eye so hard it hurt as he tried to rub my thick eyeliner away.

“I can’t even look at you,” he hissed out.

And then I was moving as he slung me around so I stood in front of the kitchen table and faced away from him. He smacked me in the shoulder blades as he roughly pushed me over the table and pulled my left arm hard behind my back. My face hurt as he pressed it into the table. I had an idea of where this was going, but since he only ever touched me in my bedroom once everyone was asleep, I didn’t really know what to expect. I cried into my hand as he started to rip my pants down. My stomach dug into the side of the kitchen table and I thought for sure if he pushed down on me any harder he’d break my ribs.