Page 1 of From the Ashes

PROLOGUE

KOVU

SIXTEEN YEARS AGO

Iswallow heavily as I hover by the front door.

I stayed out after school for as long as I could, but as the sun sets over the rundown block, I have no choice but to come home.

If they catch me lurking out here, I’m done for, but every day I’m forced to come back to this hell is harder than the last.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I push through the front door, and I’m immediately struck by the scent of alcohol and weed, a combination that always has bile rising up the back of my throat.

It’s a Tuesday night, so I thought it would just be them, but when I come around the corner and I’m faced with Joel, my dad’s best friend, my stomach drops.

It’s always worse when they have an audience.

“How you doing, kid?” he sneers, and I school my features, forcing myself to remain in place. If I flinch, he’ll just use my show of weakness against me.

“Good, sir.” I keep my eyes cast downward. If I can just make it to my bedroom, I might be safe, but only if I have time.

If I have time, I can drag my dresser in front of the door to stop them from coming in, but after the beating I took over the weekend, I’m weaker than normal, and even on a good day, the solid wood dresser is hard for me to move. Throw onto that the fact that I haven’t eaten more than a stale piece of bread in the last two days, and I don’t like my chances.

“Why don’t you come join us?” He nods toward the living room past the kitchen, and I swallow past the lump in my throat.

“I have some homework I need to do before school tomorrow,” I say quietly and hold my breath. Rejecting his request could go one of two ways for me, and the seconds that tick by while he decides are some of the longest of my life.

A rough hand shoots out and grasps my shoulder, tearing a startled cry from my throat before I can catch it. I know better than to react, but sometimes they catch me off guard.

Joel tears the backpack from my shoulders and discards it before shoving me toward the living room. “You should know better than to deny us, kid.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I…I—” But I’m cut off by a fist to the back of the head as we cross into the room where my parents are sprawled across the crappy couches.

No ten-year-old should ever see the things I’ve seen, not least of which being my mom and dad withering away before my eyes. But that’s what alcohol and hard drugs will do to you, and I’ve never known anything else.

I manage to stay on my feet, but it’s the second hit that takes me to the ground. Agony rages through my body, pain so vivid my stomach protests against it, but I haven’t eaten today, so there’s nothing for me to throw up.

“You wanna have some fun with us, kid?” Joel sneers down at me as I curl my body into a ball, hoping it will protect me.

I shake my head, desperate to tell them I don’t want any part in whatever they’re doing. I just want to go to my room. But it won’t do me any good. It never does. So I keep quiet.

There’re a few moments where no one speaks, and the part of me that isn’t quite broken thinks maybe this is the time they leave me be, but then stumbling footsteps fill my ears, and I know what’s coming long before the first kick lands on my back.

Each one is heavier than the last, but the closer I get to passing out, the less it hurts. Or perhaps I’ve been in such a constant state of agony for my whole life that I just don’t feel it anymore.

I’m about to pass out when they stop, and I don’t catch the groan before it escapes, making my dad chuckle. “We’re not done with you yet, son.”

He grasps me around the shoulders and hauls me backward until I’m forced to release my knees. His blue eyes that were probably like my own before the years of drug use stare back at me with so much hatred my stomach rolls, and then I spot the cigarette hanging from between his lips.

Before I can think of trying to escape, Joel captures my arms in his hand, holding me against the filthy linoleum floor.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to escape into my own mind, but the first burn sears against my skin, keeping me firmly in the present.

When my eyes pop open, my mom is looking down at me like she doesn’t even recognize me. None of the love I see in the mothers that volunteer at my school stares back at me, and not for the first time, I long for that kind of love.

Another burn against my collarbone is even more excruciating than the last one, and the moment of relief when the butt lifts is short-lived as my dad reaches for his lighter.

Joel plucks a cigarette off the table, leaving just the one hand holding me, and I catch him off guard when I roll away from them, tearing my wrists from his grip. I’m on my feet and sprinting for the front door before I can consider what I’m going to do once I get outside. It’s the middle of winter, so I can’t stay out all night. Not when all I’m wearing is a threadbare coat that’s been too small for me for the last two winters.

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