I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad

Chap. 30

SODA:

I sat across from the man that ruined my life and just stared at him. He used to be so handsome, quite a catch mom would say, but now he had gray hairs mixed with his brown. He had put on weight and had bags under his blue eyes that made him look about twenty years older than he actually was. Altogether, I barely recognized my father.

"My baby Soda," he said with tears glistening in his eyes. "You're all grown up."

We sat across from each other at Trace's kitchen table, just me and him, but Keenon was leaning against the doorframe of the dining room with his intense green orbs locked on me. He had that dangerous aura about him, ready to kill if I showed any sign of distress. I loved him for it. Wait, what?

"Soda, I know I've done some things in the past-"

I moved my eyes back to my father and felt anger swell inside me. "Some things, Thomas? Just, some things? You almost fucking killed me!" I screeched, slamming my fist down on the table. I wasn't looking at Keenon, but somehow I felt him tense up from across the room.

Thomas hung his head low and slowly nodded. "I know, baby, I know. I am so sorry, you have to believe me, Soda. Please!"

I laughed at him coldly and shook my head. "I believed you for eleven years, you bastard. Eleven years, you came home and apologized, and for eleven years, I believed you every single time. Then for eleven years, you never once stopped. Why should I believe you now?"

He wiped at his nose and gave me the saddest look I have ever seen. "I've changed, baby. Really, I have. I got some help, the clinic straightened me out after I got out, okay? I'm better now!"

"Tell that to mom!" I screamed, lurching out of my chair so it flew back into the wall.

I leaned over and snatched him up by his shirt and yanked, causing his body to slam into the table. "Tell the woman who died because of you that you've bloody changed! Go on, go fucking tell her!"

I felt a cold hand rest on my shoulder and looked up to see Trace standing beside me with a reprimanding expression. "Soda, that's enough."

I spat in his face. "After eleven years, you finally say it's enough, but you're saying it to me?" I finished with a harsh but soft whisper. "Where were you back then, Huh? Was it not enough then?"

He looked away from my face and released my shoulder. "He's trying to change, Soda. He's changing, he really is. Give him a chance."

I let go of Thomas's shirt and watched him sink back down in his seat, face pale. Helga appeared and handed Thomas a water, making me roll my eyes. "He isn't a baby."

Helga snapped her head up and glared at me. "He's been through a lot, bitch. He deserves a little grace."

I felt my mouth drop open. "What do you even know?! You think he's been through a lot?! What the hell!"

She sneered at me and gently rubbed Thomas's back. "I think you got what you deserved. Thomas is a harmless old soul, much too good for you or your pathetic mother."

I lunged over the table, set on ripping her throat out, but Trace snatched me up. "Stop, Soda!" he bellowed, "You've done enough already!"

I whipped my head around to him and slapped him. "You're going to let your stupid wife talk about your own mother like that?!" I yelled in disbelief. "What is bloody wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?!"

He swallowed hard and looked back at Thomas. "I think Thomas dealt with mom and you the only way he knew how. His therapy counsellors say there was a lot going on there-"

I jumped away from Trace in disgust, feeling absolutely lost. My own family thought my eleven years of torture were justified because my father was just trying to cope? What was going on here?!

"I. Hate. You." I breathed, not able to hide the hurt in my eyes as I stared at the person I used to call brother. "I hate you all!" I screamed in hysterics, looking at the trio.

"You always were so hateful."

I looked down at Thomas after he muttered that sentence, and something inside my head snapped. I couldn't take this. Was I the crazy one here? Was it really all my fault?

"I wonder why," I murmured, glaring at him. "You tried to kill me so many times," I whispered, coming around the table slowly and kneeling in front of his chair. "You drove my mother to the point of no return. You pushed her to the breaking point!" I yelled in his face. "She never would have gone to him if you would have been human enough to see that you were insane!"

In the blink of an eye, his hands shot out and wrapped around my throat, squeezing so hard I saw dark fringes start to circle the edges of my vision. He shook me and smashed my head back into a wall, yelling things that made no sense. I looked into his face, numb and unable to react as I saw his icy eyes. Those same eyes that had always been there, empty and insane, unaware of the damage he caused. My father had never gotten better. He was still him. He was still going to kill me, right here, right now, all these years later.

It felt like an eternity went by before I felt glorious air seep back into my lungs as the clamp around my throat was wrenched away. I opened my eyes and wheezed, holding my throat as I looked around. Helga and Trace hadn't moved one muscle. They had just stood there while Thomas tried to kill me. What. The. Hell. I looked over to see Keenon holding Thomas in a choke hold, staring at me and then everyone with confused yet hateful stares.

I stumbled to my feet and swayed, everything in a haze as I looked at Trace. "What was that bit you said, about him changing?"

My voice was barely there, hoarse and raspy as I turned and headed for the door, everything spinning. I made it out onto the front step before my knees gave out and I crumpled, but I never hit the ground. Keenon scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the car, strapping me into the passenger seat. I heard the engine roar to life and tires squealed away.

"Soda," came a distant sounding echo. I gradually turned my head and looked at his face, not understanding the fear and worry that were etched in his eyes.

Something big and warm grabbed my hand and held it, completely engulfing it in a soothing way. I let the warmth stay and stared out the window. I knew I was in shock. I had been in shock enough to know the feeling by now. My father had tried to kill me. For the first time in five years, he had gotten close enough to kill me. My mother was gone for nothing. My father still had control. I was going to lose my mind.

"Soda," came that deep voice again, anchoring me to reality before I could spiral off the edge of my mental cliff. "Soda Pop, I'm taking you to the hospital."

I frowned through the fog in my mind and slowly swayed my head from side to side. "Why?" I tried to ask, but nothing came out. It hurt. I put my hand back up to my throbbing neck to make sure it was still there.

"Because I think he gave you a concussion," he said softly.

That would explain the dizzy haze and pounding headache. I nodded numbly, going back to looking out the window. I hadn't been to the hospital in about two years. I wondered if all the nurses still remembered my name. No one ever forgot that dying chick named Soda.