angry. Give me the bottle and get some sleep.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” he roars again. He’s never yelled at me like this before.
“Dad,” I try again. “You need to put that bottle down and go to bed.”
“Fuck you, Quinn.”
“Dad,” I say, stepping forward. “You’re done for the night.”
He spins and snarls at me, “No, I’m not.”
“You are!”
Before I know what’s happening he’s raising his arm and roaring, “No, I’m fucking not. Get off my back!”
Then he launches the bottle across the room at me. I don’t have time to duck and it hits me in the temple. I cry out in pain and stumble backwards as it smashes all over the floor. Whiskey sprays up my body and blood trickles down my head. I stumble a few steps and then a burning pain shoots through my foot and I scream. I glance down to see blood gushing out onto the carpet. I stepped on the bottle.
I manage to pull myself away from the glass, but my heart is tearing into a thousand tiny pieces. I look up with tears running down my face at my father who is still panting with rage. He has no remorse over what he’s done; he’s so far gone he doesn’t even realize he’s hurt me. He doesn’t care. Something explodes in my chest, a pain I’ve not felt before in my life.
Pure devastation.
I know I have to get out of there, and I have to do it now. I hop out of the room, towards the front door. Trying to keep it together. Dad growls something at me, but I don’t hear what it is. I have to go. I can’t be near him. He … frightened me. Pain, fear and hurt mix in my chest and I can feel the panic rising. I manage to get myself into my car, and drive into the next street over before I pull over and let it all go.
I cry.
I cry so hard my body shakes and silent sobs rip from my throat because I am too far gone for them to have a sound.
My dad tried to hurt me. He was … violent.
I’ve never been so afraid in my life, never felt such hurt. I clutch the steering wheel and let it all out. It pours from me in waves, exploding from my body like an eruption of agony. When I manage to pull back the tears enough to think, I realize I don’t really have anywhere to go. If I show up like this to Lenny or Oscar, they will lose it. Jace won’t know how to deal with me like this. That leaves only one more person I trust. Tazen.
I pull out my phone and call him a few times, but he doesn’t answer. Not in the right mental state to push, I decide to go somewhere I feel safe. The garage. I put my car into drive, swipe my tears and drive slowly the entire way over there. It’s dark and quiet when I get in, so I unlock the door and slip inside. There’s nowhere for me to sleep, but there’s a shower and a toilet, and I can find some old towels to lie on until I can get hold of someone. I can’t go home, even though I’m so worried about what Dad will do if I’m not there. How sad is that? I’m worried about him when he threw a damned bottle at my head.
I decide to send Lenny a text, coming up with some lie about why I can’t go home. He’ll arrive and probably just think Dad’s drunk again and help him to bed. He doesn’t know Dad went to the hospital today. I don’t want him to know it, either. He doesn’t deserve that extra stress.
Q—Hey Len. I have to work extra late tonight, so is there any chance you can check on Dad, make sure he’s home and in bed?
He replies a minute later.
L—Sure sweetheart.
I breathe a sigh of relief, and then let myself into the office. I’m trying not to think of what happened, because every time I do, it hurts like hell. I just need to focus and figure out what I’m going to do next. First, I need to check my foot and make sure it’s not stitches-worthy. I hop over to the cabinets and I pull out the first-aid kit, then I flick on a light.
I turn my foot and scrunch my nose up. It’s not deep, thank