Page 99 of Tiny Fractures
It’s a stupid game I’m playing, and I’m about to win a stupid fucking prize.
“I don’t appreciate the tone with which you’re talking to me, Ronan,” she hisses back at me.
“God, fuck, Mom,” I say against gritted teeth, my jaw tight as I run my left hand through my hair. “What do you want from me?” I say, my voice louder now.
“You better knock it off, Ronan.” She steps closer toward me. “This is a war you don’t want to start.”
“I’m pretty sure this war has been going on for a long time already,” I argue with her, unable to control myself. I’m honestly surprised at myself for talking back like this, though I’m perfectly aware this will not end well.
“Ronan, I’m warning you. You will lose.” Her hands are already balled into fists, ready to strike.
“Go the fuck ahead, Mom. This shit means nothing to me; I have nothing to lose,” I growl, and brace myself for her first hit. I’ve obviously lost my damn mind.
“Are you sure about that, Ronan?” She hammers her fist into my stomach, causing me to double over. “You think you’re so brave talking back to me, you worthless piece of crap. Did your little girlfriend suddenly make you lose your god damn mind that you think you can talk to me like that?” She shoves me, and I stumble backwards as I straighten myself up. “You know she’s going to see straight through you, right? You know that sooner or later she’s going to figure out that you’re useless. Or maybe she won’t; maybe that little blonde bitch has even less of a brain than you do.”
She takes another step toward me. She has her fist clenched, about to slam it into my stomach again, but I’m ready for her this time. I flex my abs as tightly as I can as her arm darts forward and she punches me. It still hurts, but not nearly as badly as the last time, and this time I can tell it caused her pain, too. She briefly looks at me in disbelief as she steps back, breathing heavily as she flexes her right hand. “Are you fucking serious, Ronan?” she asks in a tone that lets me know I’m in deep fucking shit now. And sure enough, her fist comes flying forward again, sucker-punching me in my stomach for a third time. I wasn’t expecting it this time, didn’t flex to dampen the blow, and I hunch over again, only for her to crash her fist into my nose, which immediately begins to gush blood.
I drop to my knees in front of my mother.
“Get up, Ronan!” she orders, but I don’t. What’s the fucking point? “Get the fuck up!” She kicks me in the stomach, forcing me onto all fours. The blood is positively dripping from my nose, a little puddle forming on the hardwood floor. “Ronan, I will fucking kill you if you don’t get up right this fucking second.”
I gather whatever strength I have and slowly push myself up off the ground. I wipe my bloody nose with my forearm. It doesn’t feel like it’s broken, which is a fucking relief. I wouldn’t even know how to explain that one to my friends and Cat.
My mother studies me for a moment, looking me up and down like I’m a pest, like she can’t believe she had to give birth to me. “You better knock off your shit or I will make your life a living hell, Ronan.” She takes a step back, signaling she’s done beating my ass for now. “Clean that up”—she points to the blood stain on the floor—“and get out of my sight.”
She turns and goes upstairs, leaving me standing in the living room, feeling punch-drunk.
I do as I was told, grab some paper towels from the kitchen, and clean my blood off the floor while trying to stop the bleeding with a cold washcloth to my nose. As soon as I’m done, I walk into the kitchen—all plans of walking Onyx gone—to wash the blood off my face, hands, and forearm, ensuring there are no visible signs of injury. Then I head into the garage, and I’m relieved to find a clean, long-sleeved Murphy’s shirt in the dryer. I change out of my bloodstained white t-shirt and discard it in the trash can. I decide to just leave the house now, eager to get away from this fucking hell hole, but quickly go back inside and grab an unopened bottle of Jack from the sideboard in the dining room. I just need something to take the edge off.
I make it out to my car seconds later and chug two large gulps of the whiskey. Then I sit for a second, eyes closed as I lean my forehead against my steering wheel, letting the alcohol hit my stomach.
Just hours ago I was happy, surrounded by my friends, kissing the most incredible girl in this world, but all that is so rapidly overshadowed and drowned out by my mom and her apparent desire to wipe out anything good in my life. I hate the effect she has on me, hate what she does to me. I fucking hate her. And I fucking hate myself for letting her get to me, for not being strong enough to withstand her, for not fighting back.
“Um, you’re early again,” Shane says when he spots me walking into Murphy’s fifteen minutes later, and his eyebrows immediately crease.
I have no intention of telling him what just went down at home and instead plaster on a fake smile. “Yeah, you know, after that long weekend with you I just started having immediate withdrawals and I needed a quick Shane fix.”
He grins at me. “I guess I can’t blame you. I’m surprised everyone else isn’t here also.”
“Me, too,” I laugh. “Guess we know now who loves you the most.”
“Just don’t tell Tori or she’ll kick your ass,” Shane says with a nod.
“I can take her,” I joke back.
“I don’t know, she fights dirty,” he laughs.
“Are you speaking from experience?” I make my way behind the bar counter to drop off my keys and wallet.
“I’d rather not say,” he says sheepishly, now making me laugh for real.
“Fair enough. Is Tori coming in today to make eyes at you while you work?”
“That’s the plan,” he says with a smile.
“Tell her to bring Cat.” I give him a grin, wanting to see her more than anything. I guess I could call or text her and let her know, but I don’t want to overwhelm her. We just spent seventy-two hours together, and I want her to decide what she wants to do tonight without feeling pressured by me.
“Oh, for sure. Wouldn’t want you to be jealous that nobody is making eyes at you,” Shane says, then adds, “Although, that’s never really been an issue. In fact, I’m pretty sure that chick over there is making eyes at you right now.” He nods in the direction of a table occupied by three girls.