“I’m sorry, Father,” I stammer, pressing my back against the wall. “But he hurt me, and he touched—”

“I don’t give a fuck if he cut your fucking hands off, you ran out of there, causing a scene, making people ask questions. You little fucking bitch. You stupid, stupid child. I told you how important this was. Now you’ll never be allowed back in his house. He’ll fuckin’ know it’s you. So now I can’t get what I need.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I tried ...”

“Tried?” he bellows, taking my tiny shoulders in his big hands and launching me off the ground, slamming me into the wall so hard the breath is knocked out of me. Tears stream down my face because it hurts so much. “You fucking tried? You didn’t try. I told you, no matter what, that you never fucking run. You do your job. I told you, and you didn’t listen, you stupid little—”

He lifts me off the wall and slams me back again so hard my head bounces off the wall and I bite my lip, making blood pour down my chin.

“Bitch,” he roars.

He drops me to my feet and his big hand swings back. I close my eyes, waiting for it, because I know it’s coming. I knew when I ran that it was coming, that he’d be so angry at me. That he would make me pay for running out. The slap comes hard, so hard my little body goes flying across the room and I land on the floor with a thump, rolling to my side and curling into a ball.

It’s the only way.

His boots hit my ribs, once, then twice, and he bellows in rage.

I made a big mistake.

I released the monster.

“You waste of fucking air, I wish you were never fucking born, you complete and utter disappointment.”

I clench my eyes shut, my body shaking. It hurts everywhere.

Everywhere it hurts.

I wish Mommy was here.

I wish she never met him.

I wish she found a nice dad for me.

“Waste. Of. Fucking. Air.”

The door slams, and I make my first sound. I have learned not to scream. Any noise, any at all, and he’ll get so angry he’ll fight harder. It’s better to be quiet, to let him say what he wants to say, to let him hurt me as much as he needs to, and then cry after. When he’s gone. When I’m alone and he can’t hear me.

I tremble, and a tiny sound comes from my throat. There is blood in my mouth, and I don’t like how it tastes. It makes me feel yucky, and I don’t like the pain that always comes after it. I can’t eat, and Rebecca has to make me milkshakes when my dad isn’t around, so that I don’t get too skinny. That’s what she told me, anyway. She said I’m already too skinny, and if I don’t eat, it’ll get worse.

I don’t care.

The door creaks, and I know it’s Rebecca. She gets bolder every time. She knows that my father will sit in his office fuming for a while, so she has a little bit of time to come and see if I’m okay. This is the worst he’s hurt me, the absolute worst, and I feel like my body isn’t going to move from the ground. Maybe I’ll die on the ground, just like Mommy did. Maybe we’ll be the same. That’s okay with me.

A cool hand strokes my hair back from my face, and I don’t move, I don’t even look up.

I know it’s her.

“What did you do this time, kid?” she murmurs, dabbing at my mouth with a warm, wet cloth.

“I ran away,” I croak.

“You know you should never run away, your father doesn’t like running away.”

“I was afraid, Rebecca. The man was hurting me, and touching me ...”

Her hand pauses. “Touching you? A man was touching you?”

“Y-y-y-yes.”

“In the places I showed you no one should ever touch you?”

“Yes.”

She makes a strange sound, I’m not sure what it is, but I’ve never heard it before. It sounds a little sad, and maybe a little frustrated. “Then you should run away. You should always run away. Nobody should ever touch you if you don’t want to be touched.”

“But when I run away, Father hurts me.”

She wipes my face, the cloth cleaning up the blood and making it feel less yucky.

“Yes, but one day you’re going to grow big, which is why I always tell you to eat up. And when you’re big, you’ll be able to stand up to him, to make your own choices, to be free.”

“Father says I’ll never be free.”

“But you will, kid. One day, you will fight the monster back. Until then, you have to be strong. There is nothing else out there for you. Nothing but even more monsters.”

I turn and look up at her, my eyes are blurry. “There are more monsters out there?”

“So many more, some of them a lot worse than your father. Like I tell you, you fight the monster you know. Be strong. Be smart. Get bigger. Get smarter. And maybe, one day, you’ll get what you deserve.”

“What do I deserve?” I ask her, as she helps me up from the floor.

“Freedom.”

“Does that mean he won’t be here anymore?”

She nods, lifting my shirt and placing an ice pack on my ribs. I hold it there and slide my shirt back down over it. “That means he won’t be here anymore.”

“And what about you, will you be here?”

She glances around. “I’ll be here for as long as I can. But if I’m not, if I’m not here, you have to always remember what I told you.”

I nod, and the ice is burning my skin, but I know it’ll make it feel better. It always does.

“What is that?” she prompts, holding my eyes.

“That I have to get big.”

“And?”

“Strong.”

“And?”

“And fight the monster.”

“And what else?”

“And never let anyone touch me.”

“And the most important?”

“The most important,” I say softly. “The most important is that I never stop fighting. That I always find my way out, even if I think there is no way, even if I have a big wall in front of me. There is always a way out.”

“Even if you have to what?”

“Blow my way out.” I smile.

She smiles back.

“That’s right, kid. You’ll get past that wall, even if you have to blow your way out. Because on the other side is freedom.”

I nod.

Blow my way out.

Yes, blow my way out I will.

After I finish fighting the monster.

~*~*~*~