Her Guarded Heart

Chapter 15 - Stepdad

James

I picked up my spoon and scooped it into my bowl of tomato soup. Quietly slurping, I looked at Thomas who had his head down.

I knew if I said one word my stepdad, Nicholas, would start yapping and yelling.

I hated him. I hated him so much.

"Eat your food, Thomas," my mother urged him as she took a sip of her wine.

We were sitting at the dinner table together as a family. Usually families will talk and have a good time but everyone stayed silent.

My mother looked at my stepdad. "Honey, you shouldn't use your phone at the table. It's setting a bad example for the boys."

When my mom tired to look at who he was texting, he quickly hid his phone screen from her view.

It's probably his mistress he's texting.

"Hold on a damn minute," he huffed.

Once he finished texting, he turned his phone face-down and glared at me.

Nicholas was the only person in the world that could make me feel uncomfortable in my skin.

He was the only person in the world that made me feel like I meant absolutely nothing to anyone.

And at some points, it's hard for me not to believe him.

Mouth full of soup, Nicholas started talking.

"I heard your team lost the championships, boy." I always knew when he was talking to me because he would call me "boy" instead of my real name. He also said it in a tone of disgust.

"Yeah, we did."

"I would say I expected more from you but I never did." He ripped a piece of his garlic bread with his teeth.

I clenched my toes in anger.

"What's your lowest grade?" he asked me.

"B minus," I mumbled under my breath.

Nicholas slammed his spoon hard on the table. I saw Thomas shudder at the sudden noise.

"Shame on you!" my stepdad yelled.

"Are you kidding, Nicholas? A B minus is pretty good," I argued back.

"Not good enough for this family."

I don't even consider you apart of my family.

He pointed to the stairs. "You're going to end up working at McDonalds with that crappy of a grade. Go to your fucking room and study. Now."

I looked at my mom, pleading with my eyes to help me.

Instead she ignored me and looked down at her soup.

My mother never says a word because she's too afraid of what he would do to her if she rebelled. She only agrees with his stupidity, never protecting her sons.

At times like these I wish my real dad was with us.

But he's gone.

I looked down at my half-eaten soup. "I haven't even finished eating."

"That's too damn bad, boy."

Screw this.

Pushing my chair back, I got up and stormed off to my room.

This happens every night. I hate him! He can go to hell!

I slammed my door as hard as I could then I fell back on to my bed.