“You lying now too,” he muttered.
He stepped closer. I backed up without realizing it until my heel hit gravel and pain spiked through my foot. My knees tensed. My body knew what was coming before my mind allowed the thought to fully form.
“Dad,” I said, and I hate that the word came out like a plea, like the little kid in me still believed he could be reasoned with. “I didn’t—”
The brick came down.
Not a swing from far away. Not a wild motion. He lifted it a few inches and smashed it into my knee with a short, controlled strike, as if he were hammering something in place. The crack was not loud. It was intimate. It happened inside my body. It made my vision go white at the edges.
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