Chapter 1
He was a big man. Tall. Broad shoulders, thick arms, thick chest. He would’ve made a fantastic athlete, if he’d only had what it took to do anything worthwhile with his life.
I’d been told I was the spitting image of him. Being his son, I supposed the claim wasn’t too far out of line. However, my physique was the only part of me that resembled the man. At least I hoped it was. I hated him.
Living with my father had never been fun or easy. It had been tolerable when my mother was alive, but since her passing, five years ago, life at home was hardly bearable. I was nineteen now, and would’ve moved out the instant I’d turned eighteen, had it not been for my younger sister Ren. She was only seventeen and Dad refused to let her move out. Therefore, I refused to let her live alone with him.
He was harsh, cruel, loud, angry, and violent, and if he didn’t have me there to vent on, he would surely turn his solid fist toward Ren. Not that he hadn’t before, but she and I both agreed it would be much worse without me.
It was a little after one o’clock in the morning when I arrived home. I’d already had a rough night and wasn’t up for dealing with any more problems. I was mentally weary, physically exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. I eased the front door open as quietly as I could. Stopping short of halfway, because that was the place it always began to squeak. Turning profile, I worked myself through the crack I’d created. I was in, now, and I closed and latched the door in the same silent manner.
The house was quiet. The living room lamp was on, casting a yellow glow across the ceiling and around the room. It reminded me of warmth, of welcome. I would’ve liked to close my eyes and pretend that’s what it really signified, but it wasn’t. It meant my dad was still awake, so did the fresh cigarette smoke I could smell.
"Trigg, is that you?" His booming voice disrupted the silence and set off all of my internal alarms.
I hadn’t yet determined exactly where he was, but I knew I had to answer.
"Yes, sir," I said softly.
"It’s one o’clock in the morning!" He was in the kitchen.
"I know. I’m going straight to bed. My truck broke down on my way home from work and I had to walk the last ten miles." I should’ve just slept in the thing. What was I thinking coming home this late?
"That’s all you have to say about it?" He made his grand appearance in the doorway, seemingly filling the entire frame. He always had seemed larger than life to me. I was the same height as him, and minus his fifty-pound beer belly, I was probably close in weight. It never felt that way, though. I always felt small, insignificant, and humbled, whenever he was around.
"You come waltzing into my house at one o’clock in the morning and that’s all you have to say?"
He wanted an apology, wanted me to grovel, and if I had any brains in my head I’d do it. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so late. I’ll try not to let it happen again." I was looking him directly in the eyes. If anything got me hit quicker than not looking at him when I spoke, I hadn’t figured out what it was, yet.
"You’d better be sorry!"
"I said I was, and I am."
"Are you getting mouthy with me, Trigg?" His swift approach not only placed him inches in front of me, but it caused my nerve endings to signal their dismay.
"No, Sir," I said as calmly as possible. "I’m truly sorry. It was a long walk. I tried to hurry."
"You’d better not be lying to me." My father wore the scent of alcohol like some people wore cologne. I couldn’t remember a time, at least not in the last five years, that he hadn’t been drunk. I could almost tell what type, and proof, he was drinking just by the smell of his breath. Tonight it was hard liquor, the worst kind to mix with his personality. I wasn’t going to be getting out of this unscathed.
