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about how sorry you are.”
    I step into the hall and lock my jaw, grinding my teeth. He’s right, that’s exactly what she does, but it doesn’t mean she has to, again.
    â€œJust go.” Her voice is a whisper.
    â€œAll right.” His feet crunch outside, and I relax. Fuck, maybe he’s got more sense than I thought. Or is just too loaded to continue. I lean against the wall, and the sound of him hitting her, like someone slapping down beer cans, brings me back to standing. His hands fly through the open door, and my mom grabs the frame to keep from falling. He catches her square in the eye with a fist, and she goes down on her side. I’m down the hall in five steps. She’s trying to stand, and he’s on the steps grabbing her legs.
    â€œNo!” I can’t stop myself. Here I am, out of my room, not fantasizing, but about to enter the mix.
    Both of them freeze and look at me, my mother’s eyes wide, her mouth bleeding and hanging open. Cameron’s forehead knots, but then he smiles. That fucking smirk pulls
across his face. “Woo hoo. Big man steppin’ up. All right!”
    I look at my mother, her bloody face, spit and snot dribbling out her mouth and nose. I’ve seen this image so many times that it’s left me numb. I know it’s wrong, but she looks pathetic to me, lying on the ground again, helpless. Cameron laughs, and I look up, into his eyes. They’re sinister, like something from a nightmare, and I feel again. First fear and then panic. My mother’s not helpless, he’s just fucking evil, and now that I’m standing up to him, for her, I can’t go down as easily.
    I rush to the door, and he slips, trying to react. I pull my mother’s legs inside and then slam the door in place. I lock it just as he grabs the handle, but the door is secure, so he pounds on the thin metal.
    â€œYou fucking pussy. Get yer ass out here. I’ll fuck you up real good. Then I’ll fuck yer mother.” He laughs again and pounds some more.
    Again, I want to strangle his words in his throat. I help my mother up and move her to the couch. Cameron’s still pounding and screaming. This is nothing like my fantasy. My head spins, but I go to the bathroom and wet a washcloth. I bring it back and hand it to my mom.
    â€œThank you.” Her voice is low, and she does not look at me. I sit next to her, and she cleans her face, and we both seem to tune out whatever the fuck he’s screaming out there, something about his dick. “I thought he was different, honey. Really.”
    I open my mouth to speak because I can’t imagine what she saw in him that was any different from the others. He’s a fucking loser with a dead-end job, who drinks until he passes out, and when he feels like it, beats the shit out of her. But I keep my comments to myself. She’s still wearing her work uniform. He must have followed her or have been waiting.
Maybe it’s not her fault—this time.
    She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “At least I know who you are.”
    I nod but not because I’m agreeing. I don’t know what else to do because I don’t know that who I am is as solid as she thinks. Up until five minutes ago, I never once stood up to any of the men in her life. It’s not as if she has ever asked me to, but with what she just said, it makes me feel as if she’s been waiting. Unreal. Even my own mother thought I was a pussy. But maybe, just maybe, I’m not.

3
    I pop up and sit in bed. All is quiet, which is good, because I tried to stay on guard all night, listening for Cameron outside. His voice came and went, but he didn’t do anything, so I drifted off around 2:00. Hope that was enough.
    I climb out of bed, and my head crackles with the lack of sleep. I’m used to it, though, and know I can just catch up in school. It’s early, 5:45, which means there’s still time to drag the