Secrets Uncovered by Amaleka McCall

hear me?” Doobey barked, stepping closer to his nephew.
    Eric squinted his eyes into little dashes and folded his face into a scowl.
    â€œOh, you gon’ stand there like you that fuckin’ man! You s‘pose to scare me? I’ma show you who the man is in this muthafucka!” Doobey spat out. Small sprinkles of his Colt 45—scented spittle landed on Eric’s face.
    Still, Eric refused to move while his drunken uncle struggled to get his cowhide belt off his pants.
    This type of commotion was commonplace in his Aunt Deena’s house; so much so, that his cousins didn’t even bother to intervene. They simply exited the room as soon as the altercation took place. Deena never intervened when her husband beat the shit out of her nephew; in fact, in Eric’s assessment, his aunt encouraged it.
    Deena was his mother’s sister. She had seven children of her own—all cramped into a two-bedroom apartment—so she resented the fact that she had to care for her sister’s orphaned child.
    Easy’s mother, Cynthia, was one of the first female drug dealers in Brooklyn. His father, Erv, had turned Cynthia on to the game. They were an unstoppable duo, until jealous rival dealers executed them both.
    Immediately after their deaths, Easy went to live with his grandmother, who died of a broken heart, he believed, shortly after his mother’s murder.
    Then he moved in with his maternal aunt, where he was reminded daily that he was unwanted and unloved.
    â€œNow! I said get the fuck over here, boy!” Doobey growled, finally getting his belt free.
    Eric looked at him evilly. “Fuck you! You ain’t my father!” Eric hissed, clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dug half-moon—shaped craters into his palms.
    â€œAfter this ass whupping you gon’ wish I was ya daddy!” Doobey slurred, raising the belt over his shoulder.
    Eric felt a hot rush of adrenaline come over his body. Moved by some unknown force, he lifted his left fist. When Doobey went to plow into him, Eric punched his uncle in the balls with all of the strength he could muster.
    Eric growled as his unsuspecting uncle doubled over in pain. It was a bold move; but like an animal trapped in a corner, Eric felt his only choice was to attack. He started swinging wildly, landing punches at will on Doobey’s head, face and chest.
    With his equilibrium off from drinking, Doobey tried to stop Eric’s wild blows, but he couldn’t see straight enough to grab the ferocious fists flying at him.
    â€œI hate you!” Eric screamed, throwing more punches and kicks. He finally tackled his uncle to the floor; he sat on his chest and lit into him.
    â€œGet him off me!” Doobey gasped, the combination of alcohol and head injuries making him feel nauseated and dizzy.
    Eric was like a machine that could not be turned off. He thought about all of the nights his uncle had come home, stinking drunk, and beat him out of his sleep just because he could. All of the times his uncle took his dinner plate, forcing him to go to bed with his insides churning from hunger. He thought about all of the times his grandmother allowed his cousins to tease him about his raggedy sneakers and clothes.
    As if possessed by the devil himself, Eric felt spit fly out of his mouth, and tears ran down his cheeks. For the first time in his life, he felt an overwhelming sense of power over his life. He felt invincible, strong enough to kill his uncle with his bare hands.
    Blood leaked out of his uncle’s nose by the time Deena shuffled her obese body into the cramped living room and tried to pull her lunatic nephew off her drunken husband.
    â€œBoy! You ain’t gon‘be hittin’ on my man! You need to get the hell out of my house!” Deena hollered as she tried in vain to pull Eric off Doobey. A crowd of cousins surrounded the two tangled bodies and moved in like vultures over a dead carcass.
    â€œGet the