"Is that so?" Wren's face darkened. "Well now, if you've got a problem with the way I run my ship, QB1, then you know where the door is."

"Yeah, I know where the door is. I also know how you just love setting me up to fail," I countered heatedly. "You think I wanna be here? Looking at your face? Listening to your voice and taking your goddamn shit? You make it so that I have to be here, Wren. So that I have to depend on you."

"You're here because you ain't worth shit on your own, boy."

I laughed into his face before losing my cool and roaring, "I'm here because you enjoy breaking me down far too much to ever let me leave!"

"Daryl!" Mom began to interject but I was too far gone.

"But your time is running up, old man," I hissed through clenched teeth. "You're losing control. I'm so fucking close to making it that you can taste it. And my success makes you sick to your goddamn stomach!"

"Success? What success?" he sneered. "All I see in front of me is a bitch-ass mama's boy with a pretty-boy face, but you're spineless, ain't ya, boy? That's right. It's all smoke and mirrors with you. Same as your daddy. There ain't nothing worth having beneath the surface."

I narrowed my eyes. "I'd rather be a bum like my old-man than a prick like you."

"If you wanna be like your old man, then all you need to do is walk out," he laughed cruelly. "That's what your old man did, boy. He took one look at you and he walked the fuck out the door." Stepping closer, Wren reared a hand back and bitch slapped me across the face.

It was just another way of degrading me in front of my mother.

Of emasculating me.

"Hmm?" Slapping my other cheek, he pushed me up against the fridge again and then slapped me twice more for good measure. "You wanna leave, then go right ahead, pretty boy. Ain't no one blocking your exit."

It was a trap.

A trick.

Another one of his fucked-up mind games.

"Wren," Mom choked out, breath hitching in her throat as she tried to step in between us. "That's enough."

"I'll tell you what's enough, Trish," he sneered, glaring at my mother. "His attitude! I've had enough of your good-for-nothing bastard prancing around this town like his shit don't stink."

"Wren!"

"Come on, hotshot," he goaded, turning his attention. "You've always got a lot to say. Open your bitch mouth now and tell me something,"

Tears sprang in my eyes, but they weren't from fear.

No, they formed from the sheer iron will it took for me to not react to this man.

He slapped me again. "Come on, crybaby, tell me something –"

"Wren, stop!"

Alabama State.

Five more months.

Freedom.

And her.

Molly.

Molly.

Molly.

"Look what you've done," Mom finally cried, throwing her hands up in defeat. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she twisted the knife and threw it all on me. "I told you to stay away from that girl and you didn’t listen to me. Now look at our family!"