Chasing the Storm (Chasing the Storm, #1) - PUBLISHED

Chapter Thirteen

“Come here. Come here, girl. I won’t hurt you, I promise. Come here.” I lower myself to my knees to hopefully appear less scary to the kitten. She’s so little.

“Don’t make me call you again, boy!” Mr. Jack shouts. “Wanna repeat yesterday?!”

Instead of waiting for her to come to me, I scoop the kitten into my arms and lift my shirt, hiding her with it. Mr. Jack hates cats. I’m almost sure that this is one of the kittens of the mommy cat he killed yesterday.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” I whisper to the kitten.

“What do you think you’re doing out here?” Scared by the deep, angry voice, I look up quickly. My foster father has rounded the corner of his house and is now not far away. “Don’t just stand there, you simp. Answer me!”

“I… I was… um…”

“Don’t stutter. I hate stutterers.”

I swallow hard, unsure of what to say. He’s really good at knowing when I don’t tell the truth. I can’t tell the truth, either, because he’ll hurt the kitten. I have to save her. I don’t say anything at all.

Suddenly, Mr. Jack smiles. “Hand it over.”

“What?” I ask, slowly taking a step backward while keeping my eyes on his.

“Don’t play dumb. I know what you have there under your shirt. Hand it over or I’ll burn you, too!”

“No!” When I shout this, he looks surprised; his eyes are wide and his mouth falls open at my disobedience. “You can’t have her,” I add, being a little quieter this time.

“I’m warning you, boy.” Still walking toward me, he reaches into his pocket for something. His knife, probably, or maybe his gun. I try not to look scared, but it’s so hard. “Don’t glare at me, and don’t wear that pout. You think I’m intimidated? It only makes you more repulsive to look at. It only makes me angrier.”

As Mr. Jack continues to come closer to where I was standing before, I continue to walk backward. For every step he takes, I take one of my own. But then, all of a sudden, I feel my left heel hit something hard, and I begin to fall in the direction I was heading in. My foster father is soon standing over me, laughing so hard that he’s holding his sides and his face is red.

It takes a moment for me to feel the pain on my belly. It’s sharp, stings, and is a little itchy. I look down at my shirt. The first thing I notice is the fact that the kitten is no longer there. The second thing I see are red spots and lines all over my white cotton shirt. Blood.

“What an adorable nuisance you are,” I hear him say. Fear fills me until I no longer feel the pain of the scratches. He has her!

“No, please, don’t hurt her!” I beg as I slowly rise from the ground. I hurt everywhere. “Please, Mr. Jack.”

He strokes the kitten so gently that he could fool anyone who hasn’t seen what he does to them. “Oh, and why should I spare this one?”

My eyes fill with tears as memories of what happened to this poor animal’s family come back to me. Even though I try to stop the tears, they keep coming. I know Mr. Jack hates it when I cry. “Don’t kill her, please.” My voice sounds weak and small, and it scares me. I know he doesn’t like that, either. “Hit me instead. Please don’t kill her.”

“Hm…” He seems to really be thinking about it for a moment. Then he chuckles. “Trying out to play the hero, I see. Don’t waste your time; you’ll never make it, you worthless scum bag! You’re like the antagonist in every story, the hole in plots, a mosquito. No one wants you, yet you’re somehow still here. You’ll never amount to anything worth a cent, you hear me?!” When he raises his hand and makes a fist, I shut my eyes and turn my head, thinking I’m ready. But I’m not. I never am. Scared, I whimper once, causing Mr. Jack to laugh again. “You little wimp. Open your eyes, now, before I kill it!”