A week later and people are still talking about the fight. As grateful as I am for Dustin's help, being even more noticable is not exactly what I want.

The new gossip is I had sex with Dustin and that is why he stepped in for me. People have the craziest ideas. I've barely even interacted with him.

"I have a proposal for you." Speak of the devil. I turn around and there he is. Not something I particularly care for. This will just give people a reason to think we were affiliated.

I stare at him, waiting for an explanation.

"The group I got roped into for the project in English is a guaranteed fail. All the girls do is ogle me or gossip." He fiddles with his hair. "I noticed you aren't working with anyone. Would I be able to join you?"

I am already halfway through the project. I have only worked with someone on an assignment one other time and it ended badly. I stare at Dustin, contemplating his offer. He seems desperate. I mean, I don't blame him. He is working with the Gossip Girls, I can only imagine what that's like. I suppose I owe him one for sticking up for me -even if his actions might have backfired a bit.

I sigh, giving him a pensive nod.

His face flashed with surprise. "Is that a yes?"

I nod again.

"Thank you!" His face split into a grin. "How much have you done already?"

I sign to let him know I was halfway finished.

He chuckles. "I'm going to have to brush up on sign language if I plan to communicate with you. Can you come over to my place today?"

I shake my head. I have a shift at the bookstore.

"Do you have a phone?"

I give him another nod.

He tilts his head. "I don't know why I expected you to say no. Can I get your number?" He smirks. "This isn't a lame attempt to ask you out. I'm much more creative than that."

I don't respond to his comment as I punch my number into his phone.

"Blade. I'm still perplexed about this name. It reminds me of the vampire slayer Blade."

Ironically enough, those were my dad's favorite movies.

He smiles sheepishly. "I'll text you so we can formulate a plan. Thank you for your assistance." He salutes me before walking off.

What did I get myself into?

****

My mind is reeling as I walk home. I keep thinking about Dustin who seems so different than any other teenager I've met in this town. Granted, he isn't from this town which is probably why he hasn't been poisoned yet.

Alarm bells immediately go off in my head when I heard a loud crash from inside the house. I could already feel that tonight would be a long one.

Melissa is drunk. Piss faced drunk. Could barely stand drunk. Yet she manages to have me on the floor in pain.

I lay in agony, my body throbbing after being used as a punching bag, feeling helpless and bruised.

Why do I even bother to stay alive if this is all that’s in store for me?

Faith is crying somewhere in the room. Her screams have died down to more contained cries.

This is beyond bad.

After Melissa releases whatever anger she has, I hear her leave, the sound of her car leaving somewhat calming my frantic mind.

I know I have to get to Faith, but the thought of moving makes me want to never do it again. The beating isn't the worst I've gotten but it's enough. Enough to have something as simple as breathing feel painful.

I finally will myself to get up after Faith's crying evolves back to screaming. She is in her carrier, her face red and eyes full of tears. The stench wafting from her small body tells me she has been wallowing in her own bodily fluids.

Sighing, I carry her to my room.

She cooes happily after being bathed and changed. No one likes sitting in their own filth. I sit on my bed to feed her, the aches in my abdomen making me wince.

Faith dozes off while drinking her bottle; she tired herself out from so much crying. I wish there is more I could do for her. It's so unfair how we're born in lives so filled with misery. Neither of us asked to be here, yet we had to deal with the worst ends of human indecency.

I put Faith in her crib, tucking her small body under a blanket since it's chilly out. My whole body is sore; my abdomen the most obviously damaged.

I groan quietly as I reach under my bed for the only release I have. My father's knife collection is one of the few things I have left of him, beautiful array of blades with intricately designed handles.

I pull out the dagger with a hardwood handle. Tugging up my sleeve, I stare down at my wrist that is marred with scars. Fresh lines on top of older faded ones.

I sigh, closing my eyes as I drag the blade across my skin. The shallow cuts barely hurt anymore. My body has become accustomed to the pain. Three years of sliced skin made me have to press a bit harder to experience the release I need.

Stripping to my underwear, I examine myself in the mirror. My skin is patchy and the outline of my ribs are defined.

Bruises are already decorating my skin.

I look sick. I suppose I am.

I exhale deeply whe the warmth of the shower engulfs me. I stare at the bloody water that runs down the drain. Many days I want to cut deep enough that I won't wake up again. For some reason I never could.

It's easy for me to lose myself in the miseries around me. Something as minimal as a shower reminds me that my life could be so much worse.

My life isn't the best. But it isn't the worst.

It just is.

I'll try to make that work.

***

Hi! I hope you liked this chapter.

Please click that little star. I'd really appreciate it :)

-aj