Chapter 6
The sharp crack of a belt echoed through the hallway again.
No doubt about it–Jonah was getting beaten. Again.
With his cognitive delays, he was always making mistakes. And every mistake earned him
punishment.
Ever since I’d moved in across the hall, I’d heard the same thing almost daily–screams, sobs, the
sounds of violence. Vivian didn’t even bother to be discreet.
That day, I ran into Jacob in front of the complex. He was pushing Jonah’s wheelchair with slow, labored effort. His face was bruised–dark purple blotches, a split lip, and a cut just above his brow.
The path to the gate had a steep incline. Jacob strained against it, but he didn’t have the strength. Each time he got partway up, the chair would roll back.
I stepped in without a word, grabbed the handles, and pushed them up in one go.
He turned, startled. Then, recognizing me, lowered his gaze. “…Thanks.”
“You want me to call the cops?” I asked casually.
He shook his head. “Doesn’t help. Just makes them hit harder.”
His voice was low, cold, edged with bitterness.
I tilted my head. “Well… sometimes the internet works better than the police.”
He froze.
When he looked up again, his eyes had cleared. Sharp. Focused.
He understood.
A few days later, Ryan’s distant cousin–Emma–asked me out to lunch.
“Guess what,” she said, barely hiding her excitement. “Ryan’s been asking his parents for money. Says supporting two disabled kids is draining him.”
I raised an eyebrow and took a sip of soup.
“Oh? And?”
Chapter 6
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