“Don’t you dare preach to me. She’s your daughter, not mine, Victoria. But I’ve been here and I’ve taught her as much as you have over the years.”

I should be in my room like mom asked, but I can’t watch him destroy her any longer. She’s all I have. I need her. “You’re right, Dad, you did teach me a lot. You taught me exactly who I don’t want to be.”

“Sophie, go back to your room. Please,” mom begs.

Dad walks over to me and gets in my face, the whiskey on his breath almost knocking me over. I hold onto the wall for support. He’s never hit me, but I’ve never pushed him either. I’ve never been strong enough to say a word—until now. Now, I’m old enough to know this isn’t how life was intended to be. My mother shouldn’t be on the floor in a heap of numbness. I shouldn’t have to hide in my closet.

“Dean, baby. Are you ready to go?”

Standing at the top of the stairs is a woman dressed in a skin tight red dress, her chest spilling over the plunging neckline. Appearing as classy as a two dollar hooker, she smacks her pink bubble gum and twirls a piece of her over processed blond hair.

“You brought her in here?” I don’t know why I’m surprised, nothing he does ever makes sense or is deserving. He’s a pathetic excuse of a human being most of the time.

He has the audacity to laugh at me. “I pay the bills around here, Sophie. What I say and do is none of your damn business. Never has been and it never will.” His smile morphs into an evil grin. “I didn’t want you back then darling and I don’t want you now either.”

“Dean!” Mom yells. “You’ve done enough damage for one night. Get whatever you need and leave. I’ll leave your things on the porch. Pick them up in the morning or they’re going to the dump where they belong.”

Dad backs down, taking his little whore along with him. I hear her cackle all the way to the front door. “I’m going to bed.” I turn and walk to my room. Mom’s standing in the doorway of her bedroom just as shell shocked as I am. We should expect this behavior by now, yet it’s still a mind fuck each time. I pray mom’s strong enough to stand by her word and have this be the last time. Something tells me it’s simply another attempt for her to make her husband see her—to make him understand she can be gone from his life permanently. He’s never respected her the way a man should respect his wife and she’s a fool for putting up with it.

“Sophie, I’m sorry,” she cries. She knows her threats were nothing but a bunch of lies.

“Don’t be.” I shut my bedroom door and my eyes fixate on the trashcan next to my desk. Relying entirely on muscle memory, I end up in the closet, hunched over top of it purging every bit of anger, sorrow and resentment inside of me. It’s painful, but so are my emotions. Is it too much to want a family who gives a shit about each other? Too exhausted to move, I fall asleep next to a pair of worn sneakers and my favorite stuffed bear. Teddy’s always loved me.

I wake up covered in sweat, searching for the closet door. When I realize it was nothing more than a nightmare, I clutch my pillow wishing I could erase the past from my mind. I’ve come so far since those days, and I’m worried I’m slowly slipping back into the darkness. Maybe it’s because of the changes that go along with moving away or the concussion. It could be my infatuation with Kipton for all I know. But I don’t want the pain to come back. Mom may have left him, but he’ll never be erased from my memory.

Now that I’m awake, the relief of the purge is gone. But, I crave it all over again. When I feel like I can’t hold it in another second, I slip out of the room and find the closest bathroom. It’s late, so I have my pick of stalls. Without wasting any more time, I choose the first one and release the hatred living inside of me. As painful as it is, it’s the relief I desperately needed—it always takes away the pain.

Twice in twenty four hours, Sophie.You’re slipping. I don’t even notice Drew standing outside the restroom. I bump into his chest, and stagger backward. “Excuse me,” I dazedly mutter.

“You okay, Sophie?”

I give him a thumbs up and keep walking. Only now do I realize the chattering of my teeth. Adrenaline’s coursing through my body so rapidly my heart is pounding in my chest.

“Sophie, you all right?” A sleepy Cara asks.

“I’m fine. Just had to go to the bathroom. Go back to bed.” More lies.

“Okay.”

ANOTHER HEADACHE FILLED DAY PASSES and by the time morning comes again, all I want to do is sleep in. But I can’t because once I do get back into the gym, I’ll only regret it.

Cara’s already left for her first class. The dreaded eight in the morning class she wasn’t able to avoid like the rest of us. The girl loves her sleep, too, so I feel sorry for anyone who crosses paths with her this morning.

I feel like hell on my way to the dining hall to get my daily granola fix. The café is bustling this time of the morning and although I look as bad as I feel, I don’t have to worry considering I only know a handful of people in Alabama. As I sit alone at a corner table, I find myself eyeing each person as they exit the line mentally cataloguing which of their features I want to steal. There’s no shortage of good looking people on this campus, that’s for sure. So far I’ve taken the brunettes long legs, the blondes amazing green eyes, and the wardrobe of the red head. All put together, I’d be a dream.

It keeps me busy enough that I almost forget about my test results. They can’t be great considering the thumping in my head refuses to go away for more than an hour or two at a time. Taking it easy would be the smart thing to do, but it’s killing me not being able to train. Since I can’t show up sweaty to see the doctor who put me on restriction, I power walk instead of jogging to his campus office. He said no running, but if my feet never leave the pavement entirely, I’m still technically following the rules. And it’s cardio regardless.

The office is just opening and I step aside a few window washers already working hard. I nervously clamber inside, waiting my turn at the front desk.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist asks.

“Yes. I need to see the doctor about my test results. My name’s Sophie.”

She smiles warmly. “He’s expecting you this morning. I have your papers right here.”

Before she can buzz his office, I notice him chatting with another student athlete in the small waiting area. As soon as he finishes, he acknowledges me. “Sophie, you can come back.”

“Thank you.”

He eyes me up and down, making me nervous. “I saw you hustling by my window and figured you were on your way in. You’re not pushing it are you? You look tired.”

I’ll have to be more careful. “No. I’ve been taking it easy.”

“Okay. Have a seat.” He opens my file and pulls out the transcribed report from my CT scan. “The test results were as I suspected. No fracture or anything serious to worry about, but you’re still consistent with a concussion. I’d like you to remain out of practice for the rest of this week and the next.”

“Shit,” I mutter. I was expecting this news, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. There’s no way I can afford to miss that much time. Coach won’t like it.

“I promise you it’s standard. You won’t see any of the football players back in action for a few weeks after sustaining the same injury. With your permission, I’ll send a leave of absence form to your coach so he has your diagnosis in writing. It won’t affect your standing with the university as far as scholarship money is concerned.”

“Sure, that’s fine. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”