Fragments Read Free

then grabbed her arms and pulled her behind me. I’d been grateful that I had grown a bit over summer and was just taller than him.
    “Keep your hands off her!”
    My father had torn his drunken gaze from my mother and looked at me.
    “What’s that, you little prick? You stickin’ your nose in where you ain’t needed?” he’d sneered, a bead of spit flying from his lips. He’d taken a step closer to me, his fists outstretched towards me. “You need me to teach you a lesson, son ?”
    I’d held my arm tight around my mother behind me. I had never stood up to my father before, but I was fed up. As he’d gotten closer to me, I’d heard a loud shout come from our front door.
    “You touch my grandson and I will shoot your sorry ass, you piece of shit!”
    We’d all turned and saw Pop storming in. He’d walked right up to my father and said, “You want to try your bullshit with me?”  He’d looked over at me before making eye contact with my mother.
    “You,” he’d sneered towards her, “should know better than to put up with this.” He’d pointed towards my dad. “You need your son to defend you ? You’re his goddamn mother!”
    My mother cowered behind me. He’d been right. All my life, she’d never protected me. Instead, she’d watched as Dad had alternated between belting her, Lily, or me. She’d never said or done a thing about it.
                  My father laughed and glared back at Pop.
    “You old prick, this is my house and I will do whatever the goddamn hell I want. She is my wife! Stay the hell out of it!”
    Luckily, my Pop would have none of it. “No, Meg and Alex are coming with me, and when Lily comes home, I’ll take her, too. In the meantime, you will pack up your shit and leave tonight before I come back with my rifle. I’m a good shot—I never miss.”
    He’d marched over to us, grabbing both my arm and my mother’s. His heavy panting had alarmed me—I had never seen Pop react like this. As we’d turned towards the door, the grip he’d held on my arm had loosened and I’d looked down at where his hand had been. In my peripheral vision, I’d seen him sway, and as I’d turned, Pop clutched his chest and his face contorted into a wince.
    “Pop! You okay?”
    I’d reached over and grabbed him. Something was wrong. Looking over to my mother, I’d shouted for her to call an ambulance. I’d frantically moved Pop to a nearby chair, but he’d slipped and collapsed on the floor.
    “Pop! Fuck!” Crouching beside him, I’d started unbuttoning his shirt buttons then tore my hoodie off to use as a pillow. I’d heard my mother murmuring in the background, but it sounded like it was far away. I was too focused on Pop. What had they taught us in First Aid at school? My mind had frantically searched for answers on how to help him. Fear had paralysed my heart, but I’d kept moving.
    “Please, Pop, just breathe slowly. The ambulance is on its way.”
    What had seemed like an eternity later, I heard the ambulance barrelling down our driveway. Shortly after, two paramedics were by Pop’s side assessing the situation. He gripped my shoulder, trying to tell me something. As they’d loaded him onto the stretcher, he grabbed my arm and panted, “Finish car … Yours … Leave here …”
    I’d nodded, grasping his arm. “Okay Pop, try not to talk now. They’re going to help you.” I’d stepped back to let them put him into the van, the deafening roar of my pulse ringing through my ears.
    As they’d driven away, I hadn’t known that he would be dead by the time they’d arrived at the hospital. With him gone, my guilt over not speaking up about Dad sooner began to manifest and I’d made a decision. I would no longer be the silent child.
                  It had been obvious at the funeral that I did not want to be near our father. I sat away from my parents, keeping my sister, Lily, tucked in at my side. She was older, but so tiny. That night, when my