The mention of the father I’ve never known hurts worse than the physical abuse she’s inflicting on me. I’ve asked Mama about him, but all she’s ever said was that he wasn’t from around here, and she only spent one day with him, before he left town, and was never heard from again.

It would be amazing to just have a name.

“Pick her up,” Grandmother orders.

I stare down at my mother, who is much bigger than I am. To lift her would be an impossible task. She’s not going to like my answer.

“I can’t.”

Whack!

A gasp leaves my mouth as she smacks me hard across my face. The metallic taste of blood coats my tongue, alerting me to the fact that she’s just getting warmed up.

“I’m only eight, Grandmother. I’m not strong enough.”

Her mouth twists as she levels her icy blue stare on me. With one hand, she grabs my shirt collar and yanks me to my feet, causing me to drop my mother on the floor with a loud thud in the process.

Her fingers thread into my shaggy hair, and she yanks my head back so she can gaze upon my face. “You better call on the devil to help you lift her, because if you don’t, I will kill you.”

She lets go and pushes me away from her. “Now, lift!”

I let out a shaky breath and squat down next to my mother. I hook my arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. My shoulders tense as I yank with all my might. Relief floods me the second I’m able to pull Mama up off the floor. My fingers dig into her chilled flesh as I hold on with all my might.

“Put her on the couch. She needs to sleep it off.”

I take a staggering step forward, followed by another, amazed at my own strength and my ability to carry her. Even though my arms burn under her weight, I refuse to let go. The pain is a welcome distraction from the beating I know I’m about to endure.

I lay her down gently and readjust the pillow under her head, pushing a lock of her dark hair away from her face. She looks so peaceful, it’s easy to forget everything she’s done to me when she’s like this. The worry that she won’t wake up far outranks any anger I feel toward her.

I’m jerked away from her by a firm grasp and shoved to the floor. “Keep your filthy hands off her!”

I hook my arms under my knees and remind myself to stay strong as Grandmother draws the bible in her hand back, ready to hit me yet again.

I close my eyes and hold my breath the moment she begins to swing.

A gasp so loud comes out of me it wakes me from my own sleep as throw my hands up to shield myself from the blow that isn’t real. My hands shake as I push my hair back from my face and attempt to calm my breathing. Sweat pours off me as I grip my head in my hands.

Why won’t these fucking dreams go away?

Anna sits up next to me, and even in the darkness I can see the concern in her eyes. She slowly reaches out her hand and touches my back and I flinch.

I can’t have her touching me—not now—not after having a nightmare like that.

I shove off the bed and instantly drop down on the floor. Push-ups come easy to me, but the burn I crave doesn’t come to me until I’ve counted at least fifty.

Anna scoots to the edge of the bed and gazes down at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Seventy-two. No. Seventy-three…” I continue on the only way I know how to get rid of the demons that lie in wait in my mind. Punishing my own body to near breaking point, just so I won’t feel anything else, usually provides relief.

I hate what remembering the past does to me.

It makes me a crazy fucking freak.

Anna throws her legs over the bed and lowers herself onto the floor next to me. She watches me intently for a moment before reaching over to lay her hand on mine as I continue doing push-ups.

The little gesture causes me to lose count, and I turn to stare at her as I continue. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to in order for me to understand that she cares about me. The small act of sticking by my side while I work my own shit out is enough.

This girl is special. I can see that now with certain clarity. But the problem still remains—I don’t deserve her. She’s too good for me. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes that, too, and leaves me. When that happens…it will kill me. I know it will.

I’m so fucking addicted. This will not end well for either of us, because I won’t know how to let her go.

Xavier has been quiet today. He doesn’t seem upset or anything, just cautious around me. I’m sure what I witnessed last night wasn’t something he wanted me to see, but Lord knows I’m not going to force him to tell me what upset him. The last time I tried that, things got crazy.

I just don’t like seeing him hurting.

The car comes to a stop, and Jimmy hops out first, opening the door for Xavier and me to get out. I stare up at the huge brick arena that we’re about to enter. It reminds me a bit of a coliseum, and Xavier’s powerful presence imitates that of a gladiator about to enter for battle.

My eyes drift over to him. His dark hair is pushed back from his face while glasses shield his eyes from the evening sun. Xavier threads his fingers through mine as the security guards open the rear entrance doors for us.

A large black man with a completely bald head nods at Xavier. “What up, X. You ready for tonight, man?”

Xavier grins. “Razor won’t know what hit him, Freddy.”

Freddy laughs. “Funny, he just told me the same thing.” He marks something off the clipboard he’s carrying and jerks his head inside. “Come on. I’ll show you where the dressing room is.”