Resilience by Bailey Bradford

key to his place, given to him by Todd’s landlord, Mr Hanks. That was what he got for renting from a member of his father’s congregation. He shouldn’t have agreed to move here in the first place, should have stood up and—
    “No, I’m not doing that.” Todd wouldn’t start with the should have, could have, would have crap, that never was good for anyone. He’d been weak, scared, conditioned even to be those things before, but now he was beginning to see that he didn’t have to tolerate being treated like he was vile.
    He didn’t have to settle for borderline hatred when there were people in this world who might actually be capable of caring for him.
    Tonight was the last night he was going to come home and find his father in his
    apartment. Todd was going to ask for the key back, and tell his old man to leave. If that didn’t work, Todd would leave and return later to change his locks. He didn’t expect it to be a peaceful confrontation. In fact, he was pretty sure he was going to be hurting come morning, but he hoped, he hoped, he could hold onto his own anger without giving in to the same violence that drove his father. Todd wanted to make a stand, not become a cruel, abusive person.
    After parking beside the other car so as not to block his old man in, Todd shut off the engine and got out of his vehicle. Todd forced himself to move, to walk to his own door. It wasn’t locked, and though it was always quiet when he got home, this time it seemed
    unnervingly so. Todd went inside and shut the door. His father stood in the living room, a grim expression in place. The old, thick Bible Todd had felt bruising his skin was held in his father’s right hand.
    “You missed church last week, every service. How does that look to people, when the
    preacher’s own son can’t be bothered to show respect to God and family?” His father raised the Bible and thumbed the pages. Todd’s throat ached with the need to start stammering apologies, but he wouldn’t. Not anymore. “You have nothing to say, Todd? I’ve heard you’ve been disrespectful to Sheriff Kaufman.” He narrowed his eyes and Todd felt his look like a slap to his cheek. “And now, you’re carrying pride like it’s something that will save you. It won’t. The only thing that will save you is—”
    “G-get out,” Todd rasped, pushing the words up past numb lips. “I want my key back. I want you to leave…l-leave me alone.” He managed enough saliva to swallow and at the
    same time felt sweat bead his brow and his palms turn clammy. Fear gnawed at his gut but Todd refused to give in to it. “You can’t k-keep showing up and hitting me when you feel like it. I’m a grown man—”
    “You’re my son,” his father snapped, striding up to him. Todd’s insides went cold at the look on his father’s face. He’d never seen him so angry. “You’re mine and if you can’t be good for anything else, you will at least not embarrass me!”
    Todd couldn’t stop himself from taking a half-step back. He realised his mistake
    immediately. Now he was up against the door, with nowhere to run. But I shouldn’t have to run, not in my own home. Not ever, not from him.
    “I want you to leave,” he repeated, voice dry and breaking. “Give me back my key, and don’t come here anymore. I want—”
    “I don’t care one whit about what you want, boy,” his father growled. “You will show me respect!”
    Todd threw his arm up as soon as he saw the glint in his father’s eyes that was so
    familiar to him. Still, the impact of the Bible slamming against his forearm hurt, but not as bad as the fist his father pummeled his ribs with. Todd coughed, his breath bursting up from his lungs. Another punch to his stomach and he groaned, hunching in on himself, trying to cover as much of his body as he could.
    “Leave,” he rasped every chance he got.
    His father only hit him harder, no more accusations, his judgement solely meted out
    with his fists.
    Todd