Lose Control (The Jewel Project #5)

17.2|| Middle Names

Sam wasn't sure what startled him from his sleep, but he was suddenly awake. The fluorescent stars on the ceiling seemed to burn his eyes. He turned over and noticed the clock showing it was one thirty in the morning which meant he'd dozed up for exactly twenty minutes.

Why am I up again? There was no noise, maybe just the distant rumble of a car engine. What the hell was wrong with him? It was bad enough that he could hardly fall asleep, now he had to be unable to stay that way, too?

Sleep, sleep, sleep. He closed his eyes so that the room would stop spinning. His muscles ached and his mind decided that it was a good time to focus on the disgusted look Skye usually wore when he was there. He really didn't want to think about that. Skye was almost as bad a subject as Christine. Speaking of which... Yes, there it was, Christine and Harry kissing again. A loud roar filled his ears. Anger now had an official sound, like maybe a... motorcycle?

The sound of a slamming door had him sitting up, straining his hearing as much as possible. Firm quick steps followed, and Sam scurried out of bed. He opened his door just in time to see Kyle taking the stairs two at the time and heading for the first floor. Before he could open his mouth to ask, his brother entered their parents room and shut the door behind him.

Sam hurried up the stairs too, but lingered next to the door.

"What happened?" Jerry came up next to him, sleepy and disheveled looking. Tom and Jimmy were right behind him, obviously just awaken.

"Kyle came home and went in there."

"Is Dad still in there?" Jerry asked, his voice strained.

"Nah, he left about half an hour ago," Jimmy said, bypassing everyone and opening the door.

Low sobs filled the air and Sam's stomach sank. Kyle was on his knees on the floor, holding his crying mother. He glanced over his shoulder, and the reproach in his eyes was more painful than the crying.

"Where the hell were you guys?" he asked between his teeth.

"We didn't hear anything," Jerry said, raising his hands in surrender.

"No," Maxi whispered. "They wouldn't have. He was careful." And she continued crying, her face buried in Kyle's shoulder.

"Wha--?" Sam's words died in his throat as his mother raised her eyes.

Her lip was busted and bleeding, and there was a bruise under her left eye. For a moment, he was sure he'd blacked out, then the anger came over him like a tidal wave and he clenched his fists as hard as he could, gritted his teeth to stop himself from screaming.

Kyle tightened his hold on her with one hand and fished his vibrating phone out with the other. For a moment he frowned at the screen then answered, "I can't talk right now. I'll come by later." And he hang up.

There was complete silence in the room after that. Then Maxi wiped her eyes and stood, head held high. "There is no reason to worry about this."

"Dad did this?" Jerry asked, his tone a weird mix of disbelief and anger.

Sam had to get out of there. He didn't want the answer. He was sick of everything falling apart around him, of each day proving beyond any doubt that there was no bottom, that it could get much worse.

He turned around and headed down the stairs, his knees shaking, his muscles aching. This couldn't be happening. His father didn't just hit his mother and stormed out of the house without being noticed, caught. What were you going to do then? Hit him? Violence never solves anything. His head spun and nausea grabbed hold of him.