It All Started With Hate

lock | part 1 (e)

His eyes filled with rage until I saw pure malice. Hate contorted his face, and then he swung his foot back.

I felt the impact before it was even given. His heel struck my side, and I crumpled. Three more brutal kicks followed, the last one ending with a painful stomp, likely leaving a shoe imprint on my skin.

My body throbbed with pain, despite my feeble attempt to shield myself with my arms.

He paused, his huff the only sound I could register amidst the agony coursing through my body. I wasn't certain, but judging from his kick, I could guess he'd already broken a rib.

Struggling to draw in air, I forced myself back up, as I always had throughout my life, and as I vowed to continue even in the face of death.

"Beg and I'll stop."

I stayed quiet, other than my spasms of gasps.

My father marched forward. "I said, beg!" Another kick to my stomach that nearly made me throw up the bagel Jax forced me to eat.

I doubled over, again. I knew for a fact that a rib was definitely broken, now.

Get up, Maggie.

That voice was what willed me on. It took me a moment to collect myself through the pain, but with all of my strength behind it, I raised my head, again.

"I'll..." My chest continued to punch in and out while I breathed out, "I'll beg you to keep going before I ever beg you to stop."

He wouldn't break me, again. I would break myself first, before I ever let him, or anyone else break me, again.

His glare burned into mine. The challenge of my defiance was ticking at the last of his sanity, but I didn't let it back me down.

Unhinging his jaw, he gave a chuckle that made my stomach hurt even more, despite the hits.

"Did you know that I visited Kayla the same week I got out?" At the mention of my mother, my brain crushed to pebbles. My father ran a hand down his face, shaking his head as he chuckled. "You should see her, now. The woman's a church-going, all mighty saint, now."

Through the pain, I managed to grit out, "Did I give the impression that I actually gave a fuck?"

"I just wanted to tell you that she sends her apologies," he said. "She even tried to tell, beg me, to call this off, to leave you alone, and let you live. Can you believe that shit?"

I didn't respond, because there were no other emotion for me to string off of. I didn't feel anything.

My mother had known what my father and the others were doing, yet she hadn't stopped it. She drowned herself in drugs, but on the rare occasions she was sober, she was jealous and vengeful that her husband was giving me the attention I never even fucking wanted.

I didn't care to know that she changed, or that she was sorry. Someone changing and seeking your forgiveness didn't always mean that you had to give it. The only person you were responsible in giving it to was yourself, not them and definitely not their conscious.

"But, just like her..." my dad continued, a sick smile painting his face. "No one's going to save you, Maggie. Not Luke, and boy..." he paused to chuckle, shaking his head. "I've seen the man fight, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I would hate to have to go against that shit. The guy's batshit crazy when it comes to you, but luckily, we'll be gone soon and I won't have to worry about it." Shrugging, he continued on with, "You're alone, Maggie. Not a soul's gonna stop this. Not Luke. Not your friends. Not yourself. And, for damn sure, not the brother you nearly got killed—"