“Scotty wait!” Journey tries to run interference again but she’s too small compared to Scotty.
Dad balls his fists as Scotty comes at him, but before he can react Scotty punches my dad right in the chest.
“You motherfucker!” I scream frantically.
Quickly I jump on Scotty’s back, and drive my fist into the side of his face repeatedly. The sores in my knuckles splitting painfully.
“Stupid bitch!” He throws me from his shoulder, causing me to slam into the wall and fall next to Dad. My shoulder blade blooms with pain, spreading down my back.
Dad makes a sound I’ve never heard before catching my attention from my own pain.
He grips his left shoulder, his eyes wide with fear and pain.
“Dad?”
He pins me with wide eyes, as he clutches his chest. My heart sinks as fear takes root. He’s having a heart attack!
“Journey, call an ambulance!”
“Teaches you right, old man.” Scotty slides a plate off the table, it landing on the floor with a loud crack. Journey doesn’t move from her spot after calling 911 as she stares at Dad and sobs.
“Dad, tell me what to do, what can I do?” I ask, my hands trembling with the amount of adrenaline racing through them. I shift on my knees, trying to get a better look at him.
“Go…Get…That…Fucker,” Dad grits out with pain.
“I’m not leaving you,” I reaffirm.
“Go!” His eyes pin mine, and something familiar flashes through them. Something I haven’t seen in a long time. My dad is finally fighting back. He wants me to fight.
“Go Tate! I will watch him until the ambulance gets here,” Journey offers. Swallowing hard, I nod and jump to my feet.
“Don’t you leave his side!” I point at Journey. She slides to the floor, sitting right next to him.
Turning I run after Scotty. Nobody touches my family. I’m going to kill that asshole.
Throwing the door open, I find him striding toward his car like he’s taking a stroll in the park.
“Hey!” I step out onto the porch, my head lowered and eyes hooded with rage. I swear I can hear the latch to my cage unlocking, because a rush of adrenaline like I’ve never felt before pounds through my veins. It feels good, it’s a rush I crave.
Scotty stops, and slowly turns. An arrogant smirk across his face.
“Yeah?” He grins, and for the love of God I want to kick his teeth in.
“That is the last time you hit anyone in my family.” Lowering my head, an evil smile crosses my face as I welcome the old Tate back.
He balls his fists and cracks his neck.
This is going to hurt, and I’m more than ready for the challenge.
Camden
A commotion next door grabs my attention. There’s yelling and cursing, all coming from Tate’s house. Setting my dinner aside I peek through the curtains and find two people in Tate’s front yard. It’s so dark I can’t make out what is going on, but it doesn’t look good.
Turning the porch light on, I step outside and the unmistakable sound of a fist connecting with bone being heard and a rush of energy surges through me.
Moving quick off the porch steps, I head into the Davis’ yard, and my heart stops. A big motherfucker has Tate pinned to the ground, and is trying to secure her hands above her head. My eyes widen and mouth parts as I start that way, ready to end the life of whoever is on top of her.
Her wrists being so tiny, she slips through and punches the guy in the face so hard he falters.
Like a match igniting gasoline I sprint forward. The need to protect Tate my only thought, bad blood between us is history. Nobody touches her but me.
He thrusts his fist right into Tate’s face, and she cries with pain as her head whips to the side. I grit my teeth, my fists curled so tight my knuckles turn white. Before he can deliver another hit, I tackle him off her. Rolling along the grass, tangled in arms and limbs, I find he’s bigger than I thought. He’s done this before, but he’s sloppy. A street fighter at best. I wrap my arm around his neck, and wrap my leg around his body, securing him to the ground. He grunts as I tighten my hold around his neck, limiting his oxygen. His attempt to escape weakens as he begins to lose consciousness, so I let go. He coughs out a sickly sound as he falls to his knees, rubbing his throat.
Taking my training to a whole other level, from professional to personal, I strike him in the face with my foot, throwing him backwards. His teeth clatter, and blood sprays along my bare foot.
He stays down this time, cupping his face in agony. My chest rises and falls as I pace the wet grass. I point at him, but before I can speak my threat, out of nowhere, Tate straddles the guy, her legs on each side of his body, leaning down she punches him in the mouth.