Chapter 5
Jim slid along the wall to put distance between them. “I made a cool, green salad, too. It’s in the refrigerator.” He hated being afraid. His stomach gurgled and his heart raced. He clenched his jaw to keep it from shaking and trembling.
“Turn the broiler off. It’s heating the whole house.”
“When the burgers are cooked. It’s our dinner and I’m not wasting the meat.”
Mom stood silently and caught her lower lip in her teeth, looking anywhere but at Jim. Once, just once, couldn’t she defend him?
George, in his spiffy military crew cut though never having served, wagged the finger closer to Jim’s nose. “Look, you little fuck—”
Jim tensed his abdominal muscles, and the next moment, George landed a fist into his gut, followed by a punch to the face that Jim sort of blocked. Jim was used to the abuse, but he bent over moaning.