Page 4 of Nikolai

I swallow. "Yes, sir."

Satisfied with my response, my dad stands from the table, walks over to my mom, and kisses her cheek. I watch as she closes her eyes and leans into his touch. After almost twenty years with the monster, you can still see the love and devotion she has for him. I want to hate her. I want to hate her as much as I hate him. I want to grab her, shake her and ask, "How can you still love him? Why do you keep letting him do this to us?" Mom always takes his side. Not that she doesn't love me, because she does. I just think she loves him more.

The moment dad walks out of the front door, and his truck can be heard pulling out of the driveway, mom sits down in the chair next to me. Bringing her hand up, she palms my bruised cheek. "Oh, Leah."

I finally let the first tear fall.

"Why must you anger your father? You knew he would have someone checking up on you. I told you not to fall in with the wrong crowd, Leah. Your father told me about the dress and the bar. He says you have been spending a lot of time around a football player and even moved in with him and a pregnant girl. For God's sake, child." Mom shakes her head.

She's referring to my friends Sam and Alba. My only friends. Two people who have been able to look past my outer appearance and how insanely awkward I am to the real me. I've never had true friends like that. And now I am being forced to give them and school up. With no energy to deal with my mom, I brace one hand on the table and the other on the back of the chair and stand. The movement causes my ribs to pinch, and I whimper. Mom looks away with shame marring her face. "I'm going to get ready and head to Bozeman," I tell her then make my way back to my bedroom. I don't bother trying to explain anything to my mom. It doesn't matter that Sam is just a friend. Male friends are against the rules, and I broke the rules. I broke another one by dressing the way I did and going to that bar. It doesn't matter that my actions were harmless. All that matters is I went against the boundaries my father set in place.

"I'm sorry, Leah," she says just before I close the door. I don't bother with a response.

As I'm about to leave and head back to Bozeman, I spot Mrs. Mae sitting on her front porch across the street. I've known Mrs. Mae my entire life. Growing up, I didn't have friends, but when I was five, I was out riding my bike in front of my house when I heard music coming from an open window of Mrs. Mae's house. It didn't take long for my curiosity to get the better of me, so I'd snuck across the street to peer in. That's when I found the source of the music—Mrs. Mae was playing the piano. I was mesmerized.

"Are you just going to stand there, child, or are you going to come in?" she asks.

I smile big and rush up the steps of her porch. Mrs. Mae is already at the door to greet me. "You're the Winters' little girl, aren't you?"

I nod, my curls bouncing over my eyes. "My name is Leah."

"It's nice to meet you, Leah. My name is Mae. How about you come in while I phone your mom, let her know where you are so she won't worry."

"Okay, Mrs. Mae"

I watch as Mrs. Mae calls mommy. They speak for a minute before Mrs. Mae hangs up. She gives me a warm smile. "Would you like to learn the piano?"

I nod vigorously.

That was the day Mrs. Mae became more than just a neighbor. She became my best friend and my haven. Mrs. Mae taught me how to play the piano, and how to cook. She was my shoulder to cry on when the outside world would chew me up and spit me out. It didn't take long for Mrs. Mae to realize I was starved for some kind of emotional connection to another human. Mrs. Mae lost her husband before they had the chance to have children of their own, and she never remarried. I might have been a kid, but I think I was her best friend too.

Mrs. Mae stands from her seat on her porch and waves me over. I don't want her to see my current state, but I won't ignore her either. It's not like she hasn't witnessed the evidence my father's belt leaves behind. Besides my mother, Mrs. Mae is the only other person who knows what goes on in my house. She thinks I don't know about the time I was ten, and she confronted my father. I had shown up for my piano lesson with a black eye. Mrs. Mae paid gravely for that talk she had with my dad. The very next night, someone attacked her during a home invasion. Mrs. Mae suffered a broken wrist, and her home ransacked. I knew my dad was behind the incident, and I suspect Mrs. Mae knew as well. It only made me love her more for trying to stand up for me.

As I start across the street toward her house, Mrs. Mae gives me a big smile. The closer I get, her smile drops. Her shaky hand covers her mouth. "Dear God. Come here, child." Taking me in her arms, she leads me inside to the kitchen table. "Sit here so I can get a look at you." Her face hardens when she flips the light on, getting a more unobstructed view of the damage. "Something has to be done. Someone needs to put a stop to that man."

My shoulders slump, and I shake my head. "There is no stopping him. My father is the man people go to when they need help. It doesn't work that way when the person who is supposed to protect you is also hurting you."

Mrs. Mae sits in the chair next to me and takes my hand in hers. "You should leave this place, Leah. Leave and don't ever look back."

I swipe the tear that rolls down my cheek but don't say anything. I wish it were that simple—that I could just hop in my car and leave my problems behind. I have no money, no family, and nowhere to go. Several minutes pass before Mrs. Mae stands and gives me the peace I was looking for when I crossed the street. "Come and play something for me before you go."

Sitting down on the familiar bench with Mrs. Mae at my side, I run my fingertips over the familiar keys, and for the first time in twenty-four hours, I smile. From the moment my fingers first touched these piano keys at the age of five, it became my escape—a way of letting go of all the pain. The old piano weeps as I pour my sorrow into the notes. Closing my eyes, the world around me fades away, and I turn my pain into a beautiful melody.

The sun has set by the time I reach the apartment I share with Sam. A few months ago, I met Alba and Sam at the campus library. They approached me one day out of the blue and struck up a conversation. The three of us have been inseparable since. Sam is from Texas and is a football player here at Montana State University on a scholarship. Alba is my age and is in her first year, like me. She came to Bozeman from Polson. Long story short, Alba found out she is pregnant and wanted to live off-campus and take online courses. She and Sam asked me about living in an apartment with them. I stupidly thought my father wouldn’t find out. It's been months since he has ridden me about anything. I figured if I gave my weekly updates and came home often, he wouldn't snoop.

Pulling up and parking my old Toyota in front of the apartment, I turn the car off and suck in a deep breath. The four-hour drive was brutal. I wanted to cry with every turn and bump I hit. The pain reliever I took hours ago has done little to ease my discomfort. Grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, I reach inside and find the pill bottle I'm after. Unscrewing the top, I fish out two more pills, pop them into my mouth, and down half a bottle of water. After taking a moment to collect myself, I scan the near-empty parking lot for Sam's truck. I breathe a sigh of relief when I don't see it. As of a few weeks ago, Alba no longer lives here. She ran into some trouble with a stalker and went back home to Polson. The whole situation was scary. Alba, Sam, and I had been out to dinner. And when we returned home to our apartment, it had been ransacked. Not only that, but there had been a skin-crawling message left for Alba. I had taken a terrified Alba home to Polson while Sam stayed behind and dealt with the police. I was shocked when Alba directed me to an MC clubhouse. It turns out her family is The Kings of Retribution. I don't know much about the MC, but I don't live so far under a rock that I haven't heard of them either. You hear about things when you have a cop for a father. Alba has had nothing but good things to say about the club. To be honest, I trust her word over my father's any day.

Shaking those thoughts away, I open the car door and step out, allowing the cold winter breeze to whip at my battered face. Pulling my coat snug around my body, I make my way to the apartment. Luckily, it's not the same apartment that had been broken into. Sam was able to get him and me into a different one. Still, I get creeped out whenever I'm home alone.

Using my key, I unlock the door and step inside. Once I have the lock in place, I flip on the lights. I planned to stay here tonight and get some rest before packing and driving home tomorrow, but Sam texted me on my way here saying he left his father's place early and was catching the first flight out of Texas. I can't risk Sam seeing me in my current state and then explaining to him why I have to move. So, I'm going to get busy packing now and drive back home tonight. What I want to do is crawl inside my bed here, where I feel safe and wait for my friend to come home. Once in my room, I sink to the floor beside the closet just as a sob escapes my mouth. I feel so hopeless.

I don't know how much time passes with me hunched over on the floor and my emotions taking over my body, but the sound of Sam's deep voice calling out my name causes me to startle. Quickly, I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head to conceal my face and use the sleeve to wipe the tears away as I do my best to hide my anguish from my friend. But nothing gets by Sam.

"Leah, what's wrong?" he asks his voice filled with concern.

"Nothing," the lie rolls off my tongue as I try to hold back the quiver in my voice.

"Bullshit. Look at me, Leah." The tone of his voice drops. I hear him shuffle further into the room behind me. Crouching down, Sam clutches my elbow, forcing me to face him, and I don't resist. I don't have the strength.

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