Prologue
4 years old
“No! Leave her alone!”
The scream is as vicious as it is chilling.
Cold shivers race down my back as I clutch my pajama bottoms with both hands.
Tears sting my eyes from the pain radiating up and down my arm making me bite down on my bottom lip, trying my best not to whimper or move.
He told me if I move, or scream, or try to fight him off, he’d do it.
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I knew I didn’t want him to do anything to me. He was wearing dark clothing when he broke into my room, unsteady on his feet and out of breath. His breath smelled like the stuff my aunt sometimes drinks when she wants to forget whatever it is mom says I help her forget.
His eyes were dark and narrowed like the men I’d seen on TV shows that my aunt lets me watch when mom isn’t home; the kind of shows with bad men who do bad things to good people, beating them up.
And right now, the man holding my arm in a painful grip has that same manner about him which told me that when he hugged me tightly to his chest, almost suffocating me to death, whispering in my ear that ‘Daddy is here’, I knew immediately that he was dangerous and I needed to get away from him no matter what he said.
That’s when I tried to run and that’s when he attacked, grabbing me and smothering my screams for help with his large palm and whispered, “Now, let’s go teach your mother and aunt a lesson, shall we?”
“Jesus, let my daughter alone!” Mom shouts, as she and my aunt race down the stairs, both their eyes wide with so much terror that I’ve never seen in their eyes before. “Let her go right now!”
They both attempt to come closer, but he stops them. “Don’t you dare come any closer or I’ll do it.” He presses the sharp butcher knife at the side of my neck. “As we all know, kids bleed out fast. So, let’s not lose out heads and do something rash, ladies.”
“You have some nerve, harming my daughter like that,” Mom cries. “How the hell did you find us?”
“It’s good to see you too, my love,” the man says with a mocking chuckle. “Now, stop crying. You’re frightening Amy with your nervousness. She doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“You sick son of a bitch,” my aunt says angrily when they both reach the foyer of our small house, close to the kitchen entrance when the man holds me in front of him.
“Watch your language when you’re around my daughter!” he shouts, pointing something at my aunt that he was pressing to my side. It’s cold, hard and big, like a steel bar or something. “Don’t make me come over there and wash that tongue with soap.”
“Mommy,” I whimper, making him tighten the hold he has on my arm. “Mommy, please…”
“Come now, Princess,” the man says, looking down at me. “I already told you not to move. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Amy, sweetheart, look at me,” Mom calls, her voice shaky, tears streaming down her face. “Just stand still. Don’t move. This will all be over soon.”
“Listen to your whore of a mother, Amy. This will all be over soon.”
“Okay, we’re here, now put it down. You don’t have to threaten her,” Mom says, her voice steady but it sounds strange, hurried, frantic and distorted. “Let my child go!”
The man starts laughing, but it sounds hard and scratchy, not at all pleasant.
“Your child?” The man laughs again. “Do you think I’m stupid, Nicky?” he shouts, his grip on my arm now tighter.
“Nathan, listen…”
“Don’t you dare take another step forward or I swear I’ll end her right here, right now.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Mom cries.
“You’ve always underestimated me, that’s always been your problem,” the man says. “Her blood is on your hands.”
“Step away from her, Nathan!” my aunt cries, looking distressed. “Let her go and we can talk. Tell me what you want. You don’t want her. She’s just a child.”
“She’s my child, bitch! You are the reason we’re in this mess to begin with!”
“No…” my aunt starts, taking a step forward.
“You think I don’t know that you’re the one who got into my fiancé’s head, whispering lies in her ears that I don’t love her or my own child? Manipulating her for your own gain?”
“Nathan…”
“No, you are the one who told her that I’d use my daughter to go after that asshole you sleep with,” the man shouts. “You spread your legs like the whore you are for a married imbecile like him?”
“No, she didn’t say anything to me, Nathan,” Mom cries, her hands clasped together like she’s muttering a prayer. “Please, my sister had nothing to do with me leaving you.”
“Three years!” the man shouts. “Three fucking years!”
“Nathan, I’m sorry!” Mom cries. “I came out here because I found a job…”
“Stop lying to me!” the man shouts. “You took three years of getting to know my daughter away from me! Three years! Now look at her, I missed her first walk, her first word, all of her firsts that matter. Now, she doesn’t even know me.”
“I know you’re upset. I also know that you’re hurt but please Nathan, we can find a way to make everything right again,” Mom cries. “Just put the knife down.”
“Make it right?” the man scoffs. “The only way this is going to be all right is through my way. I’ve waited three years for this, after you left in the middle of the fucking night.”
“Yes, you won. You’ve bested us all, now let her go,” my aunt says, taking another tentative step closer to us. My aunt has always been brave. Mom even said she was a daredevil and the fact that she was my mom’s older sister helped, I guess.
“Make a move, Nancy, I swear to God, I’ll slit her throat right before I slit yours, you whore.”
The man is trembling with anger, visibly bristling, making me upset as well.
All I want to do is get in my mom’s arms. She’ll make this nightmare stop. But I know better than to move an inch. I’m so paralyzed with fear that the only thought in my head right now is I don’t want to die. And I also don’t want this man to be my father as he claims he is.
“Mommy,” I start crying, but the man holds me tighter, his grip on my arm growing painful. “I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die, baby,” Mom soothes, her voice shaky and high pitched. “Everything’s going to be all right, okay?”
I nod, tears streaming down my face. I try my best to do as I’m told but I’m scared. Who is this man? Why did he break into our home? Why is he calling me his child?
“Back up, Nicky!” the man shouts, pressing the blade against my neck, now drawing blood.
“No, please, you’re hurting me.” I cry. “Mommy, he’s hurting me.”
“Shut up!” the man spits, making me flinch. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying my best not to cry.