Chapter 1
Shannen
“Open the fucking door,you little shit.” The banging on Phoenix’s bedroom door makes me flinch, and I instinctively cling to him, fingers digging into his arm. I’m sitting beside him on the bed, gripping him, but if his father finds me in here, Phoenix is going to get hurt worse than usual.
“Can you hide for me?” he whispers, and I nod, but the tears are already threatening to spill.
Not tears of fear. Not tears for myself. These are tears of fury and rage because I know exactly what’s coming, and I don’t want to hide under my best friend’s bed and listen to every punch his father lands while I do nothing.
“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Do not come out.”
“But—”
“No, Shannen. You don’t move. No matter what.”
I slide under the bed, the carpet rough against my palms, and Phoenix crouches down to make sure no part of me is showing. He nudges my ankle further back into an uncomfortable position thatmakes my hip twist awkwardly, but I don't care, not when the fear in his eyes shows me how scared he is of what could happen if even the smallest part of me gives us away.
Phoenix disappears from view, and then the lock clicks. The handle then turns, followed by the slam of wood cracking against the wall from the force of his dad’s hand.
“Where’s your mom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me, son.”
My body shakes when I hear the brutal thud of Phoenix being slammed into the wall, followed by a grunt he can’t hold back.
“I’m not lying. Now get the fuck off me.”
A slap cracks through the air, followed by a hiss of pain that makes my heart hurt.
I clamp my eyes shut so hard I see stars bursting behind my lids, but it doesn’t matter because I can still hear everything. Every pained groan that tears from Phoenix’s throat, every sickening thud of fist meeting flesh, and every brutal second he takes the blows just to keep me safe.
“You really are a useless, walking pile of shit.”
“It’s not my fault you don’t know where your wife is,” Phoenix answers, sounding smaller than he is, and I hate that I hear it.
“What did you say to me?” I hear the thump, and I slam a hand over my mouth so hard my fingers ache, trying to hold back the sob threatening to break out of me. “I swear to god, repeat that, Phoenix. Repeat it, and it’ll be the last thing you ever say, and I’ll be sure to tell your pretty little blonde girlfriend that you’re kissing dirt for the rest of your life.”
Phoenix remains silent, and I thank God—not that I’m a believer, not after everything I’ve endured for the past fifteen years. But for him, I’ll pray. For him, I’d do just about anything.
“I’m going out, but when you see your mother, you tell her to stay put.”
The door slams shut, and the second the echo fades, I’m already moving.I slide out from under the bed so fast I don’t even think. I just move, scrambling across the floor to where Phoenix is hunched against the wall with one hand pressed to his stomach. I almost break right there, but what I feel isn’t grief.
It’s rage.
Pure, white-hot, blinding rage.
“Count to five and breathe, Phoenix,” I whisper.
When he's ready, I ease him to his feet and support his weight as I guide him to the bed. Dropping to my knees in front of him, my fingers tremble as I reach for the hem of his shirt. He flinches at my touch, but he doesn’t stop me. He never does. I’ve seen his bruises as many times as he’s seen mine, and it never gets any easier.
Sliding my arm around his waist, I push the fabric higher, my fingertips brushing the bruise blooming violet and black along his ribs. He won’t look at me. His gaze darts away, as if letting me see his pain is something to be ashamed of.
“Does it hurt?” He nods once. No words, just a slight dip of his chin. “What can I do?”
“Don’t be here when he gets back.”
