❛ I’m not my dad. You hear me? I’m not my fucking dad! ❜
“Oh, really, you’re not? You go and tell that to that pretty girl with the bruises on her fucking arms, Raymond James. You might not be your dad, but you do a pretty fucking good impression of him.”
The thing is, she’s already had time to calm down. She had the whole ride to Corey’s house to talk through the way she felt about it with the girl herself, and then she had the ride back alone to cry privately, and she’s come to the conclusion that she can hardly blame him for what he did. Violence is what he’s been raised on. But she always hoped that somewhere, deep down, he’d know that it was wrong. She never imagined that her child could be just like the man she hated. Maybe that’s what’s bothering her so much. Jamie wasn’t born a monster – she’s let somebody else turn him into one.
Quiet, she tucks her hair behind her ears, jaw clenched as she tries to bite back the anger she wants to let out. She’s saving it for when David comes home. For the first time, he’s going to hear about the fact that he’s done wrong.
“Listen, baby… Go stay at Jer’s tonight. Okay? It’s… Things won’t be so good here. I’ll come get you in the morning, just– Take some cash to get dinner, and… I’ll come by at eleven.”