Chapter 5

*Zane ***

“What is your name?” my father’s voice booms, my shirt balled up in his fist as he holds me up against the wall.

I swallow the sob caught in my throat and blink away my tears as I try to concentrate on my words. “Z-Z- Za-“ Before I can finish my attempt, my father’s fist races towards my face, the blow connecting just below my jaw, sending a surge of pain to jolt my small body. I taste the blood instantly, the metallic flavor all too familiar against my tongue.

“Sebastian, please!” my mother cries pathetically, grabbing at my father’s bicep to pull me free from his grip.

“Try again!” my father growls, slamming me against the wall.

Fear bubbles in the pit of my stomach as I stare at my father’s cold eyes looking back at me with so much hatred, so much shame at having me for a son. My mouth suddenly feels extremely dry as it hangs open. I could feel my name at the back of my throat but try as I might, I simply could not utter a single coherent sound.

At 6 years old, my stutter was no longer a cute little phase but a problem. No matter how hard I concentrate, no matter how hard I try, I find stringing together a single sentence a daunting task, something not within my reach. I knew my father grew embarrassed every time I struggled to pronounce my own name even to the maids.