Free Splintered by Kelly Miller Page A

last thing your mom deserves is a piece of shit on her birthday.”
    Even as a child, Hank recognized that it was simple jealousy that caused him to destroy the birdhouse. The point was hammered home when he watched his mom open his Dad’s birthday gift—a mahogany chest for the foot of their bed.
    Dear old Dad would never be one-upped by his son.
    Discipline, focus, meticulous attention to detail—those skills had served Earl Fry well. Not only were they traits to describe a seasoned woodworker, but also a predator.
    And oh, how he’d taught his sons well.
    Hank threw down his sandpaper in disgust.
    Dammit! Why can’t I empty my mind this morning? Concentrate on the feel of the wood, the scent of the oak shavings littering the floor.
    This was supposed to be his sanctuary, the one place he could escape the past.
    Hank had the willpower to fight his urges, but what about Daniel, who had the mental capacity of a ten-year-old? Boys that age had no impulse control. Combine that with the body of an adult male and the consequences could be disastrous. Hank had to shield his brother, make sure their painful past didn’t ruin Daniel’s future. Daniel was the best part of Hank’s life. He’d been protecting the boy his whole life. Hank couldn’t drop the ball now.
    The knowledge that he couldn’t always keep an eye on Daniel ate away at Hank. When they were younger, the times Hank hadn’t been around were the times Daniel had seemed to suffer the worst. Back in middle school, a teacher once kept Hank after class for beating up a kid. She didn’t even care that he’d been making fun of Daniel. She just saw the boy’s bloody nose and sent Hank to the principal’s office. That meant extra time Daniel would be home alone with their dad. Mom would still be at the farmer’s market. Not that it mattered if she was home or not. She’d never stopped her husband before. Hank had prayed his old man would stay busy in the fields that afternoon.
    When the principal finally released Hank from detention, the buses had already left. Hank had run all the way home. By the time he reached the farm, he could barely stand from the stitch in his side. Then he heard Daniel cry out from inside the barn and the pain in Hank’s side had shot to his heart. Another yelp from Daniel had jolted Hank out of his frozen state. He’d dashed to the barn door and yanked it open just in time to witness his dad standing face to face with Daniel.
    Hank watched his dad raise an automatic nail gun. He remembered the “pop” sound it made—and Daniel’s scream as the nail went through his palm. He stood pinned against the wall, arms raised like a burglar caught in the act. Dozens of nails stuck out of the wall, surrounding the outline of his body. Blood dripped from Daniel’s right ear where a nail had nicked it. Another stuck through the material of his baggy hand-me-down jeans.
    “Stop it, Dad. Stop it!” Hank had rushed to the outlet and jerked the nail gun’s cord out of the wall.
    With the fun over, his dad had merely shrugged and left.
    Hank worked quickly to remove the nails holding Daniel in place. He’d never forgotten the wet, squishing sound when he eased the one out of Daniel’s palm. A pile of nearby rags were pressed into service as field dressing, though it hadn’t taken long before the material was soaked through.
    Daniel’s loud bawling turned into mournful whimpers as the two boys waited for their mom at the end of the drive. They knew dripping blood in the house might set the old man off again.
    When she finally pulled up, she didn’t ask how Daniel was or even provide him any comfort. The first thing out of her mouth had been a sigh followed by, “What’d you do to make him mad this time?”
    Hank didn’t bother explaining. He just pushed his brother into the car and begged her to take Daniel to the hospital.
    The beating Hank received the day the doctor’s bill came in the mail was worse than any he could remember.