A waterfall of chestnut hair fanned around the girl as she lay face down against worn couch cushions. Despite the proximity of stairs that led to her bedroom, the task of climbing them in her intoxicated state seemed insufferable. The first official party of senior year left her with all the proper scars; lips swollen from kissing, glassy eyes from a shared roach, and the onset of a pounding headache. After adjusting the pillows behind her head, it took mere moments for her to slip briskly into the type of deep slumber only afforded by the bliss of an alcohol haze.

"Didn’t I tell you to leave the door unlocked?"

The booming voice approached from across the room. It wasn’t until thick fingers gripped greedily around thin bones of her upper arm that her lids snapped open. If his grasp on her arm hadn’t been enough to wake her the rancid, stale smell of alcohol that clung to his breath would certainly do it. Furrowed brows and slitted eyes blinked alertness to the petite young woman as she found herself lifted abruptly to her feet by the man in front of her.

Even through the fog of her residual buzz Brielle immediately recognized the sharp agitation in his tone; fury born from whiskey consumption. That told her all she needed to know.

“Why do you have to make everything so Goddamn fucking difficult for me?” he scowled, saliva spewing from between his teeth with each enunciated consonant growing more maniacal.

As his thunderous voice echoed in her head, she pictured the countless whiskey bottles in the garage, both empty and full, that he had accumulated over the years. She recalled strict instructions from Braysin to stay in her room with the door locked while Charles demanded his presence in the garage for one of their 'talks.' She was nine when she realized that whiskey was the drink of the devil.

Shaky fingertips brushed locks of brown hair from her eyes. She looked straight ahead at the glaring eyes that bore through her in a dead stillness like lightening in a pitch black evening sky.

The lanky brunette opened her mouth to speak, barely uttering a defense, "I -," words suddenly lost underneath her tongue as a firm and steady hand connected furiously with the hollow of her cheek.

"I asked you a fucking question, Christine. Answer me, Goddamnit!"

Gasping, she raised a hand to cover the red welt left behind. Just below her eye was a cut where a sharp edge of his wedding band had nicked her flesh. She staggered backwards, clutching her face, eyes watering. Furious hands met bony shoulders as he forced her back against the wall, the coercion of his shove causing a portrait to fall to the ground, familiar faces skewed by shattered glass. She stared at him in disbelief, determined not to let a quivering lower lip betray her.

"Dad" she pleaded, desperately attempting to summon cognizance and recognition. When that failed, she used the full force of her fragile frame to shove him, send the man stumbling backwards. He was far too preoccupied in his fury to realize his mistake. It took him only a moment to steady his balance before tense muscles and clenched jaw hinted at his next move. Any trace of the softness she had known from him was depleted. In its place was hateful disdain eager for a fight. He was the monster that Braysin had tried to protect her from. He stared ahead, eyes like knives digging into her ribcage, slow and deliberate breathing hinting at a battle he waged within himself and inevitably lost. In that brief moment of pause, Brielle’s fist pummelled into Charles' eye socket.

"Brielle!" Christine shrieked from behind her, long, dark hair trailing after her as she ran to her husband's side.

Cradling her bruised hand, Brielle examined the woman that shared the same prominent cheek bones and almond eyes as hers. The same long brown hair draped over thin shoulders. As his wife rushed to his side, Charles' eyes grew wide, his mouth agape as the recognition she pleaded for previously lit up his bloodied features moments too late. Through blurred vision, his gaze slowly turned to his daughter.

A burning like fire laced through her veins, creeping slowly up her spine. Acidity resided in her stomach, waiting to be spat out of her mouth in foul and vulgar words that teased the tip of her tongue. Instead, she sunk slowly down to the ground, arms embracing bony knees that she hugged to her chest. Had she lifted her head to meet her father’s gaze, she’d have seen afflicted pangs of anguish in the icy crystal pools of his eyes.