Free Denied by Marissa Farrar Page B

spoke strangely so his ‘s’ sounded like ‘th.’ “You must stick to the volumes you’ve promised. If you take money for a deal, you must deliver.”
    He heard his father’s voice. “I know that, asshole. I’ve been running this business for almost ten years now. But if my supply gets busted, I have to find a new one, and I can’t do that instantly. I’m asking for a little time, that’s all.”
    “We don’t have time!” The voice lifted another decibel.
    Monster tiptoed past the staircase, to peer into the room where his father stood with three men he didn’t recognize. He was able to read his father’s body language, perhaps even better than the men his father met with. His face was like stone, all except for a twitch at the right corner of his mouth. Others might mistake the inflection for the hint of a smile, but Monster knew otherwise. This was his father when he was holding back from striking out. Monster had seen it often enough when he’d done something to displease the man—not eaten the food he’d provided, or been unable to answer simple mathematical questions because he’d been flustered, or had a bad dream and wet the bed. At those times he’d see his father holding himself back, but then something would happen. Often the bad thing had nothing to do with Monster, such as his father spilling something, or missing a phone call because he’d been occupied with something else, and he’d just snap.
    Monster didn’t want his father to snap with these men. He was terrified if he did, something bad would happen. There were more of them than him, and they would probably have guns.
    He knew his father wouldn’t be happy to see him out of his room, far from it, but Monster would rather take a beating than see his father killed.
    Pushing his nerves down as far as he could, he gave a little cough.
    Instantly, his father’s eyes locked on his. Monster read the anger in their depths, his amazement the boy had dared leave his room unattended. He knew his father didn’t want people to see him—knew he was different, though he didn’t quite understand why.
    Though his father had seen him, the older man didn’t immediately race off. Instead, he turned to the men he’d been fighting with and said, “Please excuse me for one moment.”
    Then he turned and stalked to where Monster stood, hiding beside the doorway.
    He caught sight of the fury in his father’s eyes, and turned and fled.
    Regret filled him, together with sick dread, as he ran back down the hallway, toward the protection of his room, but he didn’t get that far. Instead, his father’s iron fingers locked around his upper arm, pulling him to a halt so hard he lifted off his feet.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” his father hissed in his ear. “You want to be seen?”
    “No,” he whimpered. “I heard you fighting …”
    “That was none of your business.” He’d reached the closet in the hallway. “If I can’t trust you to stay in your room, you can stay somewhere with a lock on the door.”
    He yanked open the closet and threw Monster in. Monster landed on his bottom, his back slamming against a metal bucket. The mop propped inside it fell to one side, and, in front of him, the door slammed shut, encasing him in darkness. A second later, he heard the sound of the lock clicking into place.
    Monster let out a cry, his hand pressing to the spot in his lower back where the metal had hit him. But no one offered to kiss his bad spot better.
    He pulled his skinny legs up to his chest and pressed his face against his knees to try to stifle his sobs.
    What if something happens to Father and no one knows I’m in here?
    The thought brought on fresh tears and he sank his teeth into his knee to muffle the sound. His father wouldn’t appreciate hearing him crying, and he’d want his guests to hear his son’s cries even less. Part of Monster wanted to jump to his feet and bang his small fists against the door and shout