• As we lay there, his body warm against mine, I thought. Who would he be with tomorrow night? Who would take my place? That was one place I didn’t care to go. I really didn’t need to ruin the moment. The one glimpse of happiness I was likely to have before I was forced back home. Had it really been only a month ago? I thought back to what had started this whole mess.
    I fall to the ground. My nose is bleeding, again. A sharp pain in my side tells me I was just kicked. I grunt, but take the abuse. I got a B- in Geometry. Tears rush to my eyes but I choke them back. I learned a long time ago that crying only made it worse. I struggled just to breathe, but I had to keep my head, if nothing else I had to stay conscious. I knew what that brought. Since mom left saying she had had enough of dads s**t and telling me she hoped I rotted in hell, I had been dads only “release”. I didn’t understand then but I soon found out that hell was preferable to life with my father. He hit me, “used” me, told me I am useless and he wished I was never born and blamed me for mom leaving us. It used to sting, but I learned to go somewhere else. Suddenly, I got pissed. I’m tired of dealing with this drunken b*****d! I jump to my feet, ignoring a broken rib and the blood pouring from my nose. I look at my dad, then I lose control. I don’t even feel like I’m me. With every punch I feel a little better. An hour later, he’s dead and I’m on the run.
    That was an eternity ago as far as I was concerned. “That was then; I’m not that person anymore.” I tell myself.
    “What baby?” He mumbles barely awake. “Are you alright?” I stroke his hair, and watch him, so beautiful, so… Perfect. I decided, perfect describes him well.
    “It’s nothing, I was just thinking to myself.” I tell him. He seems satisfied with my answer, so I leave it at that.