Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 716(@200wpm)___ 573(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 716(@200wpm)___ 573(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
I looked at my brothers as tears welled in my eyes once more. Our mama and daddy were very mean to me, and sometimes to my brothers, but they should still take care of us. They didn’t, though, so I was the one who had to look after my brothers tonight, and they didn’t even care enough to see if they were okay. They just laughed and went to bed like they didn’t care. I cared, though. I cared about my brothers more than anyone ... even more than I cared about my mama. They were babies, and they needed to be loved and protected, and if my parents wouldn’t do that for them, then I would.
“I’ll always take care of you guys,” I swore as my eyes roamed over my brothers’ sleeping faces. “I promise.”
CHAPTER THREE
Eighteen years old ...
I jolted awake upon hearing and uproarious thump on my bedroom door. Damien, my eight-year-old brother, was undisturbed by the sound as he slept peacefully beside me. His mouth hung open as he snored and drool dripped down his chin. I lifted the blanket and checked to see if he had wet himself, and I felt a smile stretch across my face when I noticed he was dry. This was the fourth night in a row that he didn’t wet the bed, and as soon as he woke up, I was going to praise the hell out of him for it.
Unlike Dominic, Damien’s twin, he didn’t suffer nightmares that resulted in him having no control over his bladder, but that wasn’t Damien fault. Damien was very sensitive compared to Dominic and our other brothers. He scared easily, and when he was scared, he craved affection. I never minded him crawling into my bed during the night simply because I knew he just needed to be comforted. He never received comfort from my parents, not for his lack of trying, so he always came to me in the end. He never wanted to appear like a baby to his other brothers, so his bed-wetting was our secret.
I looked from my brother to the door when another loud knock sounded. I pushed the blanket away from my body, got out of bed, and walked over to the door, scratching my ass as I went. I opened the door, and when I saw my father standing on the other side, I blinked.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I’ve got a job for you.”
“A job?” I repeated.
Dad nodded, but before he spoke, he looked over my shoulder and saw Damien in my bed. He narrowed his eyes at my brother then looked at me and said, “What’s he doing in your room?”
“He’s sick,” I lied. “He was throwing up during the night, so I brought him in here so I could keep an eye on him.”
If my dad knew that Damien wet the bed, he’d bash him until my brother screamed. He would view it as a weakness and would attempt to beat that weakness out of him. He’d do the same if he knew Damien slept in my bed with me for no other reason than he wanted to be close to me. He’d hurt him for that too.
“He probably has the flu.” Dad grimaced. “Some of the guys he annoys when they’re on patrol have it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He probably does, but he’ll be fine once he gets some rest. Dominic snores so he can’t sleep in there; in here with me is quiet.”
Dad grunted. “Aren’t you a regular Mother-fucking-Theresa?”
I tensed. “He’s my brother, so it’s not a hardship for me to look after him.”
Dad snorted. “Get dressed and meet me in the courtyard in five minutes.”
With that said, he turned and walked down the hallway. He didn’t ask if Damien was okay nor did he check on him himself, which didn’t surprise me. There wasn’t a paternal bone in the man’s body. I closed the door, then went into my private bathroom and took a quick shower. When I was finished, I dried myself and dressed warm. It was winter and had been snowing for the past few days, so that meant I needed to put on layers. Damien woke up as I was tying the laces up my boots, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes. I looked up at him and smiled; he was so cute. He was in need of a haircut, the long strands stuck up in all directions making him look crazy.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
Damien yawned. “Morning.”
He smacked his lips together a couple of time before his eyes widened, and he hurriedly reached down and patted his pants. When he looked up at me, a huge smile stretched across his lips. “I didn’t wet the bed.”
I whooped, sprung to my feet, then jumped on my brother who was laughing so hard that he stopped making sounds which amused me greatly.