Book 0.5, S. P. Macomber [best classic books TXT] 📗

test my control. I crack my knuckles, wanting nothing more than to knock this asshole out and leave him on the side of the street.

Standing from my chair to confront him. I stalk around the counter, the sound of my boots against the hard tile floor echo, causing him to flinch. I arrive in front of him, examining his small frame.

It's funny when I think back to the past, Frank had always seemed like a giant to me. Now he was just a short, skinny addict willing to do anything to get his next fix.

I lifted my right hand and pointed a finger at his face. "Listen here, Frank, and listen, well, this house may officially be in your name, but under no circumstances does it belong to you. Everything in this house is ours now. We pay for it, we own it." I take one step closer, looking him dead in the eye with a cold glare. "I'm giving you one last warning. You try taking anything from this house and I'll break both your fucking hands."

He shrank back in fear, taking a couple of steps back to put distance between us. "Now hold on, son, I'm sorry. I let my anger get the best of me," his voice quivers as he places his hands up in front of him in a submissive position, barking out a nervous laugh. "I just need some cash for food, cause I'm running a little low. I swear I'll pay you back every dime. You know, I wouldn't steal from you boys. you mean the world to me."

I lifted a hand, silencing him. I was sick of listening to his lies.

Bending down to the floor, I picked up a can of soup that he had dropped when I had scared him.

Standing back up, I examine the dented can; looking back to Frank, I arch an eyebrow. "Sure, looks like you were trying to steal from us." I lean my left side against the counter, making sure to always keep him in my sights, placing the can next to me. "Though we both aren't really surprised, are we Frank? After all, you are nothing but a-junky, and a junky will do anything to get their next high."

Frank's face shows both shock and anger before he makes a stupid decision. He runs at me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt, trying to entice fear from me. What a fool. I stopped being scared a long time ago. He pulls me close, shouting into my face. Showing his rotting, yellow teeth. "Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?! You little cunt, you wouldn't have been born into this world without me! I'll take whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want! No one, not you and not your little shit brothers, will stop me!" Spit flies from his mouth, hitting me in the face as he tries to shake me using my shirt.

Tension slides through my body, running through to my fist.

One second he was holding onto me, the next he was out cold, smacking down to the tiled floor. I felt nothing as I watched the blood run down from his broken nose. The fucking asshole deserved it. Using my black t-shirt, I lift, using it to wipe the disgusting spit from my face. I sigh. I was beyond exhausted and the last thing I needed tonight was for my deadbeat father to cause problems and yet that was exactly what had happened.

I was just glad my brothers hadn't been here to witness this.

 

Unwelcome Intrusion

 2

 

Then again, maybe I had spoken too soon. As I heard a vehicle pull into our driveway. I shook my head in exasperation why couldn't they have come after I got rid of this trash? I ran a hand over my face, groaning. This fucking shit needed to stop happening. I know I wasn't the greatest role model, but I did the best I could, and Frank wasn't helping the situation one bit. I ignored the cold, numb feeling building up inside me and bent down, picking up the drawer he had thrown on the ground. Walking over his body, I head to the counter, placing the drawer back into its rightful place, just as I heard a pair of feet head in my direction.

Turning to face Heath, who had entered the kitchen, I gave him a critical look.

Guilt flared over his face. "Sorry. I should have been here."

Heath was one year younger than me and due to past events, he felt obligated to be my backup. "No, you should have stayed at the Den," which begs the question, why were they back so early?

Heath must've sensed my thoughts. Growing quiet, he said, "David texted me."

David, of course. He and I would talk later when things settled down. I told him I would handle it and I meant it. My brothers did not need to get involved in any way.

"I didn't contact you, which meant I didn't need you." I cringed. It came out harsher than I intended. I hadn't meant to snap at him, but I was hanging on by a very thin thread.

He nodded and grimaced. "Sorry."

I sighed, hearing his disappointment. Moving closer to him, I placed my hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap." Giving me a nod to show that we're all good, he hit my shoulder before walking around to stand by our father's head, avoiding all the food and objects littered on the ground. My brother stuck his left boot-laced shoe out, nudging our father's face. It flopped left to right, smacking back down onto the floor. "Well, you knocked him the fuck out," Heath looked back up to me in amusement. Like me, Heath didn't look bothered by that fact. We both loathed the old man, after all.

"What are you going to do with him?"

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. I ignored him, bending down instead to pick up the food I could salvage that hadn't been smashed. I gently placed the canned foods back onto the counter by our barley-working sink. Seeing my father's bag left sitting on the counter, I decided to dig in while Heath watched from his position. Not wanting to put my hands in there and get accidentally stabbed by a needle, I chose to dump the contents onto the counter and we both watched as a covered needle, spoon, lighter, and small, clear Ziplock barley filled with white powder fell out with some other useless items. I eyed the drug that my father chose to ruin his and our lives, hating both it and him.

"He's running low," I said detachedly.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Heath nod in agreement. "How was he when he was awake?"

"Shaky and agitated."

"You think he's going through withdrawal?"

"I know he is," lifting the Ziplock, I swing it back and forth "there's barely anything in here."

Heath watched me warily, biting the corner of his lip. I knew he was still blaming himself for not being here, but as I said, he wasn't needed. I gave him a sharp look. "Let it go.

Sending a sheepish grin my way, he nods in confirmation. "So...What now? You and I both know we have to get rid of him. He can't keep coming here stealing from us. Were just barely hanging on." He points at the floor where the food lays now, not editable. I didn't bother responding. Heath already knew I was more than aware of all the problems Frank posed, but he wasn't thinking of the bigger picture.

Although Frank was a nuisance right now, he was a nuisance we needed. With him alive, we wouldn't have to worry about social services coming to take us away. As long as he showed up every once in a while, we could make the excuse that he was off on some job. No one needed to know the truth. As for Frank, he was a useful tool when I required him to be; all he needed in return was money to get his fix. Which was a sacrifice I was willing to make on occasion if it meant keeping my brothers and me together.

It frustrated me that I had to be the one to think of these things, but no one needed to know that. I had to appear strong and steady. Nobody could see me shaken, least of all my brother's.

Grunting, I picked up my fathers' crap and threw them back into his bag before walking to the sink to wash my hands. Water, just barely spurts out, allowing me just enough to rinse off my soapy hands. I could feel Heath's stare on the back of my head, waiting for me to decide about our father.

"Holy fuck balls! What the hell happened to him?!" Someone shouts from the doorway of the kitchen. We both turned to face Axel, our third-youngest brother stood grinning, pointing towards our father. He cockily strode over to stand where Heath stood. He bent down next to our father's head and grabbed his hair, lifting his face to take a look." Lick my ball sack, it's Dad!" Axel's face was both shocked and amused at the same time. "When the heck did he get back?" He asked, dropping their father's head back onto the floor, none too gently. "I was wondering why we had to leave the Den so early. Heath wouldn't say a thing."

Smack!

Heath slapped the back of Axel's head. Groaning, Axel cradled the back of his head with both hands before turning to glare at Him.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

Heath gave him a hard look, shaking his head in annoyance. "Why do you think Idiot?! Stop injuring him more! We don't need him dying of some damn head injury! Just leave him there until we have a plan about what to do with him." Axel stood and shrugged "well, it's not like I could see who he was with all that ugly-ass hair in his face, so I just went to check." I could see Heath just barely contain his temper. Even though we were used to it, Axel's unusual behavior did not mean we didn't often get annoyed by it. "That doesn't mean slam his head back on the floor, dumbass," he murmured.

Axel stuck his tongue at Heath before turning around to walk to their fridge and grabbing out an old apple. He jumped onto the counter and took a seat. "We all know he deserves way worse than that," he said while taking a bite.

"Enough," I ordered. I wasn't in the mood, nor was their time for their banter. 

Axel bites down on his apple, allowing for his hands to be free. He lifts, both arms up in surrender, letting me know he wasn't going to fight me. "Where's Max?"

He lifted a shoulder and nodded to the stairs. "Up in his room, I'm assuming."

I turned to go but twisted back around. Pointing at the two, I motioned to the mess in the kitchen surrounding Frank's body. "Start cleaning this up, I'll be back. We'll discuss what we're doing then." I didn't bother waiting for their response, instead walked out of the kitchen and up