Page 4 of Your Daddy Does It Better
Paul moves his head up and down once, and I release his shirt, letting him hit the ground with a thud.
I turn to Isla. She’s shaking, and her fingers are nervously intertwined. “You all right?”
She steps back from me and nods slightly.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
ChapterThree
ISLA
I won’t hurt you. I promise.
How do I convince myself of the validity of those words from the mouth of the man who pulverized his son in front of me? Because from what I witnessed and the evidence of Paul’s blood covering Bryce’s hands and the floor beneath me, Bryce could not only hurt me but also demolish me far worse than Paul ever has.
The way his rage unleashed on Paul was horrific. There was no hesitation, no remorse. He went at Paul like a feral animal. His own son. Not that Paul doesn’t deserve it—he does. There was satisfaction in seeing him humiliated on the ground, whimpering and scared. But Paul is also Bryce’s son. Anger and violence seem to be familiar traits.
Paul gets up from the floor, and I notice he’s holding an oval-shaped glass vase. “Bryce, watch out!”
Bryce moves swiftly and barely misses getting whacked in the face. Paul’s swings are erratic, his fingers barely holding on to the rim of the crystal. A loud crash is followed by the spray of small crystal pieces across the floor.
Bryce is on Paul again, attacking him worse than earlier. He isn’t holding back. I thought he was vicious before, but now he’s a monster. The loud thud of Paul’s head on the floor makes me gasp. I’m sure he’s capable of ripping Paul limb from limb. Bryce’s fist hits Paul’s face, one punch after another. Oh, God. He’s going to kill him.
My feet move on their own, almost gliding on the floor. I’m unsure what I’m doing, but I wrap my arms around Bryce’s bicep and tug. “Please stop.”
Bryce doesn’t listen to me. It’s as if there's nothing but his rage. “Please, Bryce. You’ll kill him. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you do. He’s your son.”
Bryce growls. “He’s nothing to me.” He rolls off of Paul and gets to his feet. Paul wheezes as Bryce places his tattooed hand around his throat and drags him toward the front door. “Open the door, Isla.”
I do as I’m told, afraid to do anything but obey this man. My fear of Paul was crippling, but his father? The man is a whole other beast in his brutality.
I rush toward the large door and place my hand on the knob, turning it, not daring to refuse Bryce in his current state.
He tosses Paul out the door in an impressive display of pure strength for his age. “If I ever see you again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. The only reason you aren’t dead is because you’re my creation, but I swear to God you don’t want to test me, Paulie.”
I start to leave after Paul, but Bryce clamps onto my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going, Isla?”
“I-I just…I think I should leave.”
“No,” he growls. “I invited you for dinner, and you’ll stay and eat.”
My eyes roam from his large hand on my wrist to his soft, dark brown eyes. Those eyes ease my fears. Yes, Bryce has displayed barbaric brutality, but his eyes show regret and compassion, two emotions I never saw in Paul’s eyes. Not once.
“Please,” he adds.
“Let’s go, Isla,” Paul demands, reaching for me. “Don’t make a stupid mistake.”
“I’m staying.”
Paul’s jaw ticks as his lips curve into a sinister smile—a smile I’ve seen many times before he beats me. “You’ll regret it, Isla. You’ve got to come home sometime.”
Bryce moves in front of me again, shielding me from Paul. “She’s never coming back.”
Paul laughs. “Of course she is. She’s not gonna sleep on the streets.”
“She’ll be fine,” Bryce says as he slams the door in Paul’s face. He locks it and rests his forehead on the wood for a second. He doesn’t say a word to me as he walks to the intercom on the wall and presses a button. “Get to my place now. Front door. If my piece of shit son hasn’t left the building in the next ten minutes, I want you to haul him away. I’d do it myself, but I have a guest, and killing someone in front of her wouldn’t be a good idea. Not right now, anyway.”
Killing someone? Would Bryce kill his own son? I want to say no, but the tone of his voice tells me I’d be dead wrong.
