Angry God

“Personal space here,” I quipped.

His face opened with surprise. People weren’t used to sarcasm from kids my age.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, moving away.

“I want to be mummified without a heart.” I pointed at the sculpture, changing the subject.

“At nineteen?” He looked down at me, smirking.

He seemed entertained by me, which was unusual. People typically said I was mouthy and had an unruly streak.

I shrugged. Sure. Nineteen seemed centuries away.

“What about your parents? They’d be sad if you died so young.”

“They wouldn’t care,” I lied. I didn’t know why I said it. I just wanted to sound grown up and sophisticated.

“You sure?”

“Yup. Who are you, anyway?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I own this gallery. And you, my little friend, are in big trouble.” His tone turned frosty as he grabbed the statue of Tutankhamun and threw it on the floor. The statue broke into three pieces.

I stared at it, wide-eyed, my mouth slacking.

What. The. Fuck?

“This statue is being auctioned off for six million dollars upstairs,” the man said in the same monotone tenor one would use to discuss the weather. “My cousin’s most sought-after piece. And you just broke it.”

“I didn’t!” I gasped.

For the first time in my life, I felt something foreign, powerful, and pungent. Hatred. It was so thick I could feel it bursting on my tongue. He was going to pin it on me, and people were going to believe him, because he was older and wore a suit, even if it was a funny one. I was just a kid who couldn’t help himself and had bailed on his nanny—and not for the first time. I had trouble written all over me.

“Yes, you did. I saw you.”

“That’s a lie!” I kicked the air in frustration, my throat burning. I was so angry I wanted to hit him, but I knew I couldn’t.

I heard Maggie’s voice calling my name desperately. The man heard her, too. He smiled.

“They left you with the au pair. How bloody cliché.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself.

At the time, I didn’t know what he meant. I knew now. He’d thought my parents had little to no interest in my life. That I was easy prey—a decoration they plucked out of the wet nurse’s arms once in a full moon, to show their friends and colleagues they had an heir.

“Is your father going to hit you when he finds out?” he asked me.

“What?” I spat, surprised by the idea. “No. No, he won’t.”

“But he’ll be livid that you broke it. Does he even have the money to pay for it?” He eyed me.

Maggie’s voice grew closer. She was coming. Fuck. She was going to tell on me, and my parents were going to give me so much shit. If Dad would need to pay for this, I was guessing he’d fire her, too. Maggie was someone’s grandma. That someone was sick. I didn’t know what the kid had, but I knew his name was Johnny and that Maggie needed this job. My mom sent flowers to his hospital when he was going through treatments and visited them often, but she never took me, because she said she didn’t want me to see certain things.

Everything became so complicated in one, catastrophic moment. I had no idea life could take such a sharp turn in a fraction of a second.

“You’re a liar!” I roared in his face, shoving him with all of my nonexistent strength. My noodle-arms bounced back comically, hitting my sides. Not only was I eight, I was also on the skinny side.

He grabbed my wrists and brought them to his stomach, laughing in a low, gravelly voice.

“How about we strike a deal, little man?”

“No!” I tried to resist, kicking his nuts, but he was faster, dodging my advance. I was delirious with anger, kicking without aim.

“I can make this all go away. Take the fall. Forget it ever happened and talk to my cousin. On one condition.”

I stopped struggling, frozen. Every bone in my body told me not to take whatever he had to offer, but Maggie’s voice grew even closer and more unsteady. She was in tears now, sniffling my name in panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“All I need you to do to make it go away is…” he trailed off, taking one of my wrists and putting my palm against his groin. “Slide your little hand into my trousers and squeeze my penis. That’s all. Just a bit.”

I’d touched myself thousands of times. Obviously not to jerk off, but me and my wiener were on good terms. Then again, my parents had told me my privates were mine, for no one else to touch.

They never said anything about me touching someone else’s, though.

“No. That’s gross,” I said on impact, pulling away. “You’re old. Besides, I only like my own penis.”

“You’ll like mine more for six million dollars, little one.” He laughed, unzipping his cigar pants but leaving them on.