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I didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, as I locked eyes with my disgusting sperm donor who’d had the audacity to bring me into a world so ruthless and soul-draining.

I was numb.

Deadened by dysfunction and never-ending abuse. I wanted to run away, disappear, jump off a goddamn bridge and let the water have its way with me.

Surely, it’d be more humane than him.

Folding my arms beneath my breasts, I cocked my head to the side and glared. “That is the truth, Dad.”

His wild eyes widened at my sass.

And then he walloped me with the force of a hurricane. The blow sent me sprawling backward, crashing against the wall. Pain shot through my body, a searing reminder of the chaos that had become my life. A reminder that I wasn’t quite as dead inside as I’d thought.

I fought to steady myself, staring up at him through tear-blurred vision. His anger loomed like a storm, unpredictable and destructive. The room felt smaller, suffocating, and the scent of alcohol on his breath hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

I was being punished for a kiss.

For affection—something that I’d never once gotten from my father and hadn’t felt from my mother in years.

“You think lying to me is acceptable?”

“None of this is acceptable,” I managed to say, my voice trembling but resolute. The truth was my only ally.

He scowled at me, searching for a sign of weakness, but defiance clung to my every word. “You enjoy toying with me, don’t you?” He sneered. “You’re a disgusting disgrace, just like your mother.”

“Maybe I am.” The metallic tang of blood sluiced across my tongue. “You raised me on a diet of beatings and cruelty. If I’m anything like her, it’s because that’s the only example I had. Congratulations.”

His fists clenched and his face contorted with a mix of anger and frustration. He was a monsoon, and I was the unfortunate soul caught in its path. A swollen beer belly heaved with the weight of his wrath, and muscles clenched beneath his sleeveless white tank stained with grease.

And then, with a new surge of fury, he raised his hand again.

I should have been ready for it.

But nobody could ever properly prepare for annihilation. Human beings were hard-wired to triumph and rise above, no matter what.

Father yanked me forward by the front of my crop top, then backhanded me so hard, my feet lifted off the floor and I flew backward, straight into the glass coffee table.

I screamed.

I wailed with raw, bone-crumbling pain.

My skin was pierced with jagged shards, my arm taking the brunt of the fall and shattering on impact. I wanted to run away, find a tree to curl up underneath, and die, just like an old dog savoring its last breath. But as I rolled across the strewn glass and begged my legs for steadiness, I knew I had a safe place to go. One last chance at pulling myself from these ashes I was constantly choking on.

Gritting my teeth through the pain, I staggered to my feet and inhaled a fractured breath. Something inside of me hardened with resolve. I couldn't let this be the end.

With determination fueling my steps, I stumbled toward the faint glow of the front door, my battered body yearning for the only home I knew could offer refuge.

“Where’re you going?” Father demanded, stalking me. “Get back here!”

I ran.

I flung myself at the front door and slipped out into the blizzardy January evening, cradling my broken arm and broken heart. Lamplight ushered me forward. The tempting draw of safety and warmth possessed my dizzy steps. My father’s final hollers pushed me the rest of the way down the sidewalk, and I didn’t look back. He didn’t follow me because he didn’t care enough to.

And for that I was eternally thankful.

Minutes later, I found myself shivering and wrecked on Tara’s doorstep, my tears turning to fragile icicles on my cheekbones.

I rang their doorbell.

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