Fractured Heart

Chapter 2

I grab Father's ankle. He retaliates by kicking me in the gut.

The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh of pain. My back hits the fridge and the thud echoes through our small kitchen, but Father doesn't show an ounce of remorse. He tries to swing his leg back and I hold on for dear life. He lands another kick, this time right in the ribs, and I cry out in pain.

Past experience tells me it's not a hard hit—I've had worse—but I struggle to hold back the tears. Instinct kicks in, and I let go of his foot and curl up in a tight ball. I try to protect my head, and squeeze my eyes shut, ready for an onslaught of pain.

Something clatters into the living room instead. Mom's pendant. Father kicked Mom's pendant!

I get to my feet, barely registering the throbbing in my ribs as I hobble in pursuit. When I don't see it, I get on my hands and knees in the middle of the living room and frantically search the floor.

A loud belch echoes from the kitchen, and the floorboards creak as Father stumbles into the living room. The threat he poses is nothing compared to the horror of not finding my necklace.

For a second, I think it's vanished. Then I spot the onyx stone beneath the faded brown couch. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and scramble forward. But when I see what Father's done, I let out a strangled cry.

A spiderweb of jagged lines runs across the pendant's surface. I pick it up, and it breaks apart in my hand—four pieces of a fractured heart.

"How could you?" I wail as I stagger to my feet. I have to get out of here!

"Where do you think you're going?" Father shouts as I stumble toward the front door. "Get back here!"

"No!" I close my hand in a tight fist. The jagged pieces of my fractured heart pendant dig painfully into my palm. There's something comforting in the sting—something that urges me to keep moving.

"You'll be back, Roonie Hill," Father calls after me. "You'll be back...you mark my words."

"No, I won't," I sob as I run outside.

"You have nowhere to go!"

"I don't care." Anywhere is better than here, and the only thing that matters right now is getting away.

I try to move quickly despite the pain, afraid Father will catch me and drag me back inside. He doesn't. He doesn't even bother coming after me, or closing the front door. His footsteps recede—presumably back toward the kitchen—and I hear his satisfied belch.

Tears blur my vision. The cold night air stings my cheeks, and my footsteps echo on the unforgivingly hard pavement. Each step sends waves of pain shooting up my injured back and ribs, but I keep moving.

I need to get away—away from my thoughts, away from my life, and away from Father.

But he's right... I don't have anywhere else to go. There are no close friends or neighbors, and no family to take me in. My high school classmates left for college. A few might let me visit, but I have no way of getting to them. I left my wallet and phone back at the house.

All I've got are the clothes on my back and my fractured pendant. I should turn back. Try to make it work somehow. I need a place to stay the night. I need somewhere to stay, at least for now, until I can get a job. But I can't do it. I just can't.

I stumble down the street until I pass a brightly-lit house. Inside, a little girl with brown hair the same shade as mine is seated on her mother's lap. They've looking at a picture book, and I picture a fairy tale unfolding inside—a story with a brave princess, handsome princes, and a happy ending.