As I rushed into the room, my sister-in-law stood nearby holding a counting sheet, while my brother laughed, “Fifty snaps cures a lazy memory!”
For one second, my brain refused to understand what I was seeing.
Our nephew was backed against the wall, trembling. My brother stood only a few feet away, holding the rubber band.
The boy’s eyes were visibly injured, and tears ran down his cheeks. He was too frightened to move, even when he saw me standing in the doorway.
“STOP!” I screamed.
My brother turned around.
His name was Marcus, and until that afternoon, I had believed he was one of the most responsible men in our family.
He was forty-two, worked as a warehouse supervisor, and had always presented himself as a strict but devoted father figure.
Continue on the next page:
