Read Online BlackWind by Charlotte Boyett-Compo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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other.
“Good meatloaf for a change,” Cullen pronounced around a glob of the mixture.
“Thank you, Tym,” Dorrie said automatically. She flinched and her eyes went wide when he grabbed her hand. His strong grip tightened brutally around her wrist.
“I said eat your damned food, not push it around!”
“Aye, Tym,” she agreed, her head bobbing. She lifted a forkful of macaroni to her mouth.
“When you get that floor spotless, go to your room,” Cullen told Sean. “No food for you tonight, boy.”
* * * *
Sean lay staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. He could hear his father's angry mumbles as he moved about in the bedroom next door. With the scrape of a chair across the wooden floor came a piercing yelp. Sean knew the man was falling-down drunk again. He turned his head and looked at the clock.
Ten o'clock—unnaturally early for Tym Kullen to take to his bed. The man liked to sit in front of the television and curse the eleven o'clock news team. That he had forgone his nightly ritual meant the old man had consumed more than normal and hopefully would pass out before too many more minutes ticked off the clock.
When a light scratching came at his door, Sean sat up. “I'm awake,” he said softly.
His mother opened the door and stood there, her work-reddened hands gripping the door's edge. “He won't be conscious too much longer,” she whispered. “I left you a plate in the oven.”
Sean nodded. “Go to bed, Ma. I'll be all right.”
She looked at Sean's bruised face, the dark circles that had formed under his eyes. “Is it broken?” she asked, her eyes tearing as she took in his swollen nose.
He shrugged. “Probably. Don't worry about it. There ain't much that can be done.”
Tears slid slowly down her face. “I am sorry, lad.”
"Dorrie! Where are you, woman?"
The bellow startled her. She jumped, stepping back to shut Sean's door before her husband realized what she was doing. As the latch engaged against the strike plate, Sean stretched out on his bed. He knew before Tymothy Cullen passed out, he would subject his wife to another round of degrading sexual demands.
Turning to his side, Sean pulled the pillow over his head to blot out the sounds of rutting that would soon echo through the small house.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning at school, Bronnie was not close enough to speak to Sean when they passed in the hallway, but she was close enough to see the livid bruises across his nose and under his eyes. Her mouth fell open, her eyes filled with tears, and her hands clenched into fists. She would have gone to him, but the slight shake of his head warned her away. She lost sight of him when he went into his chemistry class.
“Looks like old man Cullen did a number on lover boy,” David remarked from her side.
She trembled. “That bastard!”
“I'll be damned if I'd let my father beat the hell outta me like that,” Bobby Thompson, Dave's friend and Bronnie's cousin, scoffed.
“And just what would you do to stop him, Bobby?” Bronnie demanded. “Uncle Mike's twice your size and three times your age! How would you stop him ?”
“I'd handle it.” Bobby jerked his chin toward the chemistry lab. “Cullen could, also, if he was of a mind to!”
Bronnie stepped close to cousin and glared at him. “Is that so? And after he beats the crap outta his father, where does he go after that? Who will take him in to live with them?”
He shrugged disdainfully. “I dunno.”
“You sure don't! And what do you think would happen to his mother if he went after his father? Who would protect her after he left? Where would she go?”
“He's afraid of what could happen to his mother?” Dave asked.
“No, he knows what would happen to her,” Bronnie insisted. “That's why he takes the beatings and doesn't fight back. But one day, that will all end!”
The bell rang, cutting off Dave's rebuttal. He looked worriedly at Bronnie. “Cool it, McGregor,” he whispered, but she was
“Good meatloaf for a change,” Cullen pronounced around a glob of the mixture.
“Thank you, Tym,” Dorrie said automatically. She flinched and her eyes went wide when he grabbed her hand. His strong grip tightened brutally around her wrist.
“I said eat your damned food, not push it around!”
“Aye, Tym,” she agreed, her head bobbing. She lifted a forkful of macaroni to her mouth.
“When you get that floor spotless, go to your room,” Cullen told Sean. “No food for you tonight, boy.”
* * * *
Sean lay staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. He could hear his father's angry mumbles as he moved about in the bedroom next door. With the scrape of a chair across the wooden floor came a piercing yelp. Sean knew the man was falling-down drunk again. He turned his head and looked at the clock.
Ten o'clock—unnaturally early for Tym Kullen to take to his bed. The man liked to sit in front of the television and curse the eleven o'clock news team. That he had forgone his nightly ritual meant the old man had consumed more than normal and hopefully would pass out before too many more minutes ticked off the clock.
When a light scratching came at his door, Sean sat up. “I'm awake,” he said softly.
His mother opened the door and stood there, her work-reddened hands gripping the door's edge. “He won't be conscious too much longer,” she whispered. “I left you a plate in the oven.”
Sean nodded. “Go to bed, Ma. I'll be all right.”
She looked at Sean's bruised face, the dark circles that had formed under his eyes. “Is it broken?” she asked, her eyes tearing as she took in his swollen nose.
He shrugged. “Probably. Don't worry about it. There ain't much that can be done.”
Tears slid slowly down her face. “I am sorry, lad.”
"Dorrie! Where are you, woman?"
The bellow startled her. She jumped, stepping back to shut Sean's door before her husband realized what she was doing. As the latch engaged against the strike plate, Sean stretched out on his bed. He knew before Tymothy Cullen passed out, he would subject his wife to another round of degrading sexual demands.
Turning to his side, Sean pulled the pillow over his head to blot out the sounds of rutting that would soon echo through the small house.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning at school, Bronnie was not close enough to speak to Sean when they passed in the hallway, but she was close enough to see the livid bruises across his nose and under his eyes. Her mouth fell open, her eyes filled with tears, and her hands clenched into fists. She would have gone to him, but the slight shake of his head warned her away. She lost sight of him when he went into his chemistry class.
“Looks like old man Cullen did a number on lover boy,” David remarked from her side.
She trembled. “That bastard!”
“I'll be damned if I'd let my father beat the hell outta me like that,” Bobby Thompson, Dave's friend and Bronnie's cousin, scoffed.
“And just what would you do to stop him, Bobby?” Bronnie demanded. “Uncle Mike's twice your size and three times your age! How would you stop him ?”
“I'd handle it.” Bobby jerked his chin toward the chemistry lab. “Cullen could, also, if he was of a mind to!”
Bronnie stepped close to cousin and glared at him. “Is that so? And after he beats the crap outta his father, where does he go after that? Who will take him in to live with them?”
He shrugged disdainfully. “I dunno.”
“You sure don't! And what do you think would happen to his mother if he went after his father? Who would protect her after he left? Where would she go?”
“He's afraid of what could happen to his mother?” Dave asked.
“No, he knows what would happen to her,” Bronnie insisted. “That's why he takes the beatings and doesn't fight back. But one day, that will all end!”
The bell rang, cutting off Dave's rebuttal. He looked worriedly at Bronnie. “Cool it, McGregor,” he whispered, but she was
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