Clint lifted his head just as his stepfather delivered another blow from a cast-iron fist. His cheekbone crunched, and he spun into the barn's dirt floor. The searing pain penetrated the side of his head with a fire so unbearable it ignited his instinct to run in spite of his fear of the consequences. He twisted to his stomach and scrambled toward the closest stall, but an outstretched hand yanked him to his feet again.
"When are you going to obey me, boy? I told you to clean out these stalls yesterday," his stepfather snarled. "You're not too old for me to take the strap to your backside!" The man loomed over Clint, like Goliath himself. He pulled his arm back to strike Clint down again.
"No!" Clint hollered into the sterile room of the clinic. He flung his arms up, crossing them over his eyes, and bellowed again.