Tongue's Target (Ruthless Kings MC Las Vegas #10) - K.L. Savage

Eight years old

My Barbie doll never gets mad at me, not like Daddy. Daddy is always screaming and yelling and his breath smells like that nasty stuff he drinks out of a silver can. He has always been mean but lately it has gotten worse. Mommy tries to calm him down, but every time she tries, he gets angrier.

“Are you fucking listening to me, you little brat?” He bends down and slams his drink on the table. He snatches the Barbie out of my hand, and I reach for it to get it back, but he lifts it in the air so I can’t reach it. I shrink away from him and start to cry.

“You cry baby,” he hisses. “Maybe you wouldn’t get in trouble so much if you stopped playing with your damn dolls and fucking did what I told you to.” Daddy throws the doll against the wall and the sound of her falling to the floor has me crying louder.

“Daddy, stop it. Leave her alone, please,” I beg him. Mommy got me that doll. It’s the only toy I have. I know that Mommy works really hard while Daddy sits in the chair and watches TV all day. She always comes home smelling like French fries and Daddy says she stinks and makes her shower.

He stinks too, but he doesn’t allow anyone to tell him that.

“I said to go get me another beer.”

“Daddy, I don’t want to,” I cry. “You don’t need any more. Can’t we watch a movie?”

“Can’t we watch a movie?” he repeats what I say like my friends do on the bus.

“Stop it!” I jump off the chair and land on the dirty floor with my bare feet.

He reaches out and grabs me by the hair when I squat down to pick up my Barbie. “Stop it!” He makes fun of me again and grabs the doll from my hands again. “You’re spoiled. When I was growing up, I had to earn my toys. What the fuck have you done besides be a pain in my ass?” I try to get away from him, but he tightens his fingers in my hair and pulls harder. It hurts.

“You’re hurting me, Daddy!” I cry when he throws me to the ground. I curl in a ball and press a palm against the spot on my head where it hurts the most. It burns.

“Maybe you’d learn to listen to me if you got your ass whooped,” he says, undoing his black leather belt that’s hit me so many times, I’ve lost count.

“No! No, please, don’t. Please.” I crawl away until I’m able to get to my feet and run toward my bedroom.

“Come back here, you little shit,” he sneers, cracking the belt in the air in warning of what will happen if I don’t stop running away.

It doesn’t matter if I stop or not.

The end result is the same.

I run into my bedroom and slam the door, then lock it.

The number one rule in the house is to never lock the doors, but Daddy scares me. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want Mommy to take me away and never look back. Daddy can keep the rundown trailer and the nasty drinks he likes. It’s all he cares about anyway.

A loud bang crashing against the door yanks a scream from me. I push against the wall and look around for any kind of weapon that I think will stop him from hurting me. The only thing I have is the book my mommy reads me every night. It’s an old copy of Little Women. I don’t understand a lot of it, but the sound of Mommy’s voice always puts me to sleep.

“You better unlock this door, Daphne, or so help me, I beat your ass until you can’t sit for a week.”

I’m frozen in place, staring at the door while my legs tremble. The door handle shakes while he pounds against the wood. I can’t get out either. The only window in my room is nailed shut from the last time I tried to run away. Daddy hit me across the face while Mommy was sleeping. When I was pretending to be asleep, I waited until I heard the loud snores coming from the living room and opened the window, but I wasn’t quiet enough. Daddy caught me just as I was about to close the window and escape. He yanked me back inside, locked me in the closest, and I wasn’t allowed to come out