Last night, Ronny was the worst I’d ever seen. I mean, he could be bad, a couple of punches here and there, but it was usually over in less than a minute. And in the last year he’d only been really rough with Mom three times, maybe four? I’d got a couple of black eyes, but only after getting in trouble or yelling that he couldn’t tell me what to do.
But he’d never gone after all of us like that.
When the sounds woke me around midnight, I knew right away what they were. I’d heard crashes like that ever since Mom had married Ronny. I used to cover my ears, waiting for it to be over so I could steal into the hall bathroom to soak a washcloth with cold water. Then, when Mom came in and closed the door behind her, I could dab at her face or shoulder.
“A call at my office? Why can’t you do yo
