Page 3 of Protected By Her Daddy

If I go back, my life will be over. If I don’t, hers could be.

It already is, a voice whispers.

A distant part of me wonders if Mom has even noticed the commotion or if she’s too far gone. A sob catches in my throat at the thought of her gaunt face.Every footfall triggers flashes of the arguments, the beatings, the suffocating despair of home. And now, Gregory and Jerry’s terrifying plans if they catch me.

“I’ll find you, bitch! Doesn’t matter where you go. There’s nowhere to hide! No one to save you.”

Jerry’s threats follow me like lethal predictions as I sprint along the broken pavement, his figure receding into the shadows of my mind. The distance I put between us feels like a temporary reprieve, but the fear lingers.

The neighborhood blurs as I force myself onward. I dodge through narrow alleys and leap over low fences, panting and shaking. Fatigue drags at my limbs, but I can't afford to rest yet.

I don’t stop until I'm sure I've lost them, ducking into a small park at the edge of town. Only then do I collapse behind a bench, my body trembling. The adrenaline starts to wear off, the cold night seeping into my bones. A solitary street lamp casts a sickly yellow glow over the deserted park. The swings creak softly in the wind, ghostly reminders of a simpler time.

I glance around, half-expecting Gregory’s or Jerry’s shadow to appear. I think of the last time I felt safe, truly safe. Years ago, before Gregory wormed his way into our lives. Before Mom lost herself. How many times did I dream of escaping? But now that it's real, it’s terrifying.

Tears burn my eyes, but I wipe them away angrily. I won’t cry. They don't deserve my tears. Exhaustion pulls at me, but I force myself to stay alert. I don’t know what comes next, but I know one thing for certain—I’m never going back to that house.

Bits of gravel embed painfully into my backside as I sit and think of what to do next. I shake my head to clear the fear, but it tumbles back in. No one to call for help, nowhere safe to go.

I dig my fingers into the sleeves of my jacket. Every noise, every rustle sends my heart racing. I swallow hard, forcing down the panic threatening to consume me—now is not the time to fall apart.

Leaning against the cold, hard bench, I close my eyes for a moment. The weight of the day crashes over me. Somewhere far off, a car alarm screams, and a dog barks. Everyday sounds, but they seem alien, like they belong to another world.

Forcing myself back to my feet, I adjust my backpack and keep moving. Head down. One foot in front of the other, like always.

My thoughts drift to Mom. As a child, she was my rock, my safe place, but those days are long gone. Gregory's influence and her addiction eroded the strong, loving woman she once was. She’s not far enough gone to miss the signs of what Gregory has become, but she’s too far lost to do anything about it. The mom who baked cookies with me after school and sang lullabies when I was scared seems like a distant dream.

Earlier tonight, before leaving for the library, I peeked into her room. She was sprawled across the bed, empty pill bottles on her nightstand. The room reeked of neglect and despair.

I tried to rouse her, gently shaking her shoulders, but she just murmured incoherently. Hesitating in her doorway, I was torn between anger and love.

“Mom, I need you to wake up,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

Her eyes flitted open briefly, glazed and uncomprehending. “Go to work, Wren. I’ll be fine,” she slurred before slipping back into oblivion.

Perhaps I should have stayed and done more to help her. But her murmured reassurances were hollow promises. I know better now; I can’t rely on her for protection. I have to save myself.

In the quiet of the night, the enormity of what’s happened sinks in. I have nothing—less than twenty dollars in my pocket, no spare clothes, nowhere to go.

My mind is a whirlwind of confusion and fear. I need to rest, to gather my strength. Tomorrow, I'll figure out my next move. I'll find a way to survive, to carve out a place for myself in this harsh world.

I hold on to that hope, that sliver of light in the darkness. It's all I have right now, but it's enough.

Chapter 2

Wren

I run, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. My sneakers slap against the pavement as I weave through the crowded city streets. Every face I pass is foreign, their eyes either indifferent or hostile. I can’t go home after what Gregory and Jerry tried to do.

Can’t think about it now, I tell myself. Survive first, think later.

I duck into an alley and press my back against the cold brick wall, trying to catch my breath. The city is alive around me, a chaotic symphony of car horns, laughter, and the hum of conversation. It’s overwhelming, nothing like the quiet, dysfunctional corners of my house.

Hunger gnaws at my stomach, a sharp reminder that I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I scan the area, hoping for anything that might help—an unattended food cart, a sympathetic face, even a garbage can with something edible. I’ve never been this desperate, and the thought scares me.

I walk out of the alley and into a busy street market filled with the scents of fried food, spices, and fresh produce. The air is thick with the chatter of vendors and customers negotiating prices. My stomach twists with need, the smells taunting me with promises of what I can’t have.

A lady sells fruit nearby, her cart piled high with apples, oranges, and bananas. I approach cautiously, looking around to ensure no one’s watching too closely. The vendor turns her back, busy with another customer. I take a deep breath and reach out.

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