She shrieks so many insults, my ears ring, but it doesn’t stop me from hearing Daniel shouting closer and closer behind me. The words don’t even matter anymore. My eyes sting, and my heart beats out of my chest while crowded between them. His front presses against my back, and his pointed finger is right beside my face. The sensory overload causes me to throw all my weight against her. I move her a few feet in the safer direction until she twists away from me.

No.

I try to stop her. I try to lock around her middle when she dives at him. I try.

The little girl always tries, even though that’s what broke her in the first place.

Daniel pushes her off, and she knocks into me, and then he throws her to the floor, following her down. Everything roars so loudly in my head, but I hear each word between his fists. “Fucking. Worthless. Bitch.”

“Stop.” But it’s weak, my voice breaking. I rush toward a limp form forever burned behind my eyelids. “She’s not moving.”

He isn’t stopping, though, and I shove his shoulder, trying to get to her, trying to get him off her. I land on my knees beside her, only to be ripped away in a split second, then the world’s spinning out of control, and pain whips across my face as Daniel backhands me. My shoulder slams into the overturned table, a jagged piece of wine glass slicing into my forearm when I land on the floor. It hurts so fucking bad, but I grit through it, sharp inhales and exhales through my nose.

Daniel’s already blown out of the room. I hear him swipe his badge and holster off the entry table and the quiet click of the front door behind him. His chief of police mask firmly in place while he hides the destruction behind an elegant door knocker.

I push myself up on shaky arms, the last sixty seconds replaying in flashes. Blood drips onto the white porcelain shards beneath my hand. I sit up against the table and wrap a cloth napkin around my arm, my eyes falling shut. They open to my mother crawling off the floor. She holds her ribs and grips a fallen chair for balance. And she starts for the stairs without even looking at me.

“Mom?” Every tear I refuse to cry strains the word.

She braces on the banister and slowly turns. Her face remains untouched as always even though mine throbs. After a second of her unfocused gaze on me, she shrugs. “Your own fucking fault.”