Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
“No!” There’s a scream from Ma, which has me movin’ without thinkin’.
My feet carry me up to the first floor landin’ and that’s when I see him. Her arsehole of a boyfriend, Conall, has her down on the floor—one hand fistin’ her hair, and the other poised in midair, ready to strike. But I’m faster than the drunken bastard.
I grip his wrist, and drag him away from Ma. I’m only fourteen, and he’s older and got more bulk than me, but I don’t give a shite. I’ve watched him hurt Ma fer far too long, and I’m done sittin’ back and doin’ nothin’ about it. This fecker will die if I have anythin’ta do with it tonight.
“What the feckin’ hell are ye doin’ home?” His voice is filled with grit and anger, and his words are slurred as I pull away from him.
The bastard thinks I can’t take him, but I know I can. I’ve been workin’ out, I’ve been trainin’ and I’ll feckin’ end his existence right feckin’ now.
“Leave my ma alone, ye feckin’ piece of shite,” I bite out as my anger takes over. When I glance down at where Ma is tryin’ta stand, I notice she’s bleedin’ as she tries ta hold her nose which I now know is broken. But I can’t lose focus now. This fecker will die tonight. It’s a decision I make before I even know what I’m doin’.
Rage explodes through me when I see the crimson. My fists fly, and even though he tries to fight back, there’s no stoppin’ me. My knuckles are bloodied and raw, but I don’t let up until he’s nothin’ more than a feckin’ limp rag doll I’m holdin’ onto. I grip the bastard by his shirt collar, and I practically drag him down the stairs.
“Sully,” Ma calls to me, but even though I hear her voice, I don’t stop.
I’m happy she’s alive and movin’, but all that I can think about right now is makin’ this arsehole pay for what he’s done.
Where we live is a quiet cul-de-sac. It has a park hidden at the end of the road, which is exactly where I drag this fecker. He’s tryin’ta fight me, but he’s not strong enough. I’m runnin’ on adrenaline, and nothin’ can stop me. My mind is totally focused on killin’ this arsehole right now. If I succeed, I’ll have no feckin’ guilt about it.
We reach the park, and I’m shakin’ with rage. Ma is followin’ behind, and I glance over my shoulder at her.
“Go back inside, Ma,” I order, and it’s the first time I’ve spoken to her like this.
All my life, I’ve been the obedient son she wanted, but right now, I’m far from that. I feel so removed from the man she’s raised.
“Sully,” she calls to me when I reach the swings. but I ignore her, my focus solely on the shite who harmed her. He’s the only thing I need to focus on right now.
I shove the bastard onto one of the small, wooden seats. Then I grab hold of the swing chains, and I wrap them around his body and arms to keep him in place. I lean in so close, he can’t look away from me. His nose is bloodied and broken, and I can’t stop the smile from creasin’ my face.
“You’re goin’ta pay tonight,” I tell him. It’s a promise. A feckin’ vow.
Fer years, I’ve spent my time watchin’ him hurt my ma, and this time, I’m done. I won’t ever again step away when I see a woman bein’ hurt. Growin’ up, I wanted to do somethin’ about it, but I never could. I wasn’t strong enough. Now I’m grown up, and there’s no stoppin’ me anymore.
My ma raised me to be a gentleman, but watchin’ her suffer over the years has made sure I’m tougher than she ever thought possible. And I’m goin’ta use that tonight. She’ll be free soon, and when she is, I know she’ll finally get to enjoy her life. When I was growin’ up, there were times she would pull me to the side and tell me to be a good man and never hurt a woman. This is fer her.
I pull the knife from my shoulder holster and hold it up so the fecker can see that tonight is the last time he’ll ever touch any woman.
“Sully,” Ma calls to me, stepping up to where I’m kneelin’ in front of the arsehole who’s still chained to the swing seat. “Don’t do somethin’ ye’ll regret fer the rest of yer life, son.”
“Ma,” I say. “This is somethin’ I’ll never feckin’ regret. You deserve far better than ye’re gettin’. It’s up to me now to look after ye. So please,” I tell her. “Go back inside, and I’ll be with you when I’m done here.”