Page 2 of Doc's Decision

Spots dance before my eyes.

Summoning the last of my strength, I rake my nails across his face, drawing blood.

Tony recoils with a pained yell, and his grip loosens just enough.

I wrench free, scrambling to my feet.

Sucking in ragged breaths, I dart down the narrow hallway, Tony’s curses echoing behind me.

I burst into my tiny bedroom and slam the door, fumbling with the flimsy lock.

My heart pounds wildly against my ribs as I lean against it, hardly believing what just happened.

No more.

I can’t live like this for one more goddamn day.

Tears spill down my cheeks, but I brush them away roughly.

Pounding on my door yanks me from my thoughts, reverberating through the thin walls.

Tony’s screaming bloody murder out there, spittle probably flying from his cracked lips. “You little bitch! Open this damn door right now and give me back what you owe me!”

I press my palms over my ears, trying to block out his grating voice.

Same shit, different day.

He always needs someone to blame when he pisses away their money on booze and scratch-offs.

The doorknob rattles violently as he yanks on it. “I’m gonna bust down this door and beat it outta you, hear me?”

I let out a shaky breath, shoving down the fear churning in my gut.

This is nothing new—his groundless accusations, the threats.

How many times have I heard it all before?

But I refuse to cower anymore.

I’m almost eighteen.

Old enough to strike out on my own and find a job somewhere that’s not a greasy diner or gas station.

Hell, maybe I’ll even finish school, though that dream feels far-fetched in this moment.

I wipe my damp cheeks with the hem of my shirt, wincing as the movement tugs on my split lip.

Gently, I probe the tender skin around my eye.

Fuck, another shiner to cover up.

A bitter laugh escapes me.

I should’ve gotten wise to their game years ago, the moment Mom brought Tony and his baggage home.

I was a dumb kid, wanting to believe her promises that this time would be different.

What a fucking joke.

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