The crash of the door slamming into the wall made me jump, terror rising in my throat. I was instantly aware of two things. First that it was dark outside, my father had been drinking late with his buddies. I also knew that he would be angry tonight. It was seven years ago today that my mother left, and he was always angry on this day.

I was right. My father staggered in drunk, glowering at me sitting petrified on the couch. I swallowed and faced my father quietly; I would never give him the satisfaction of seeing me afraid.

"Katrina, where's your mother?" he demanded angrily.

Oh dear. He was well and truly drunk tonight. He couldn't even remember that she had left him, left both of us. My throat tightened and I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I could say so I said nothing. It would drive him crazy, but not as bad as he would if I told the truth.

My father's scowl grew more pronounced. "Girl," he growled. "I asked you a question. Where is your mother?"

I felt the tears pooling into my eyes, but still I couldn't say I word. Oh God, why did you put me in such a life? I could feel the rough hand grab my shoulder with bruising force and I fought to keep any sound from escaping.

"If you don't tell me right now…" he threatened. He didn't bother finishing, I already knew what he would do.

I closed my eyes and prepared my self for the blow that would come. A hand smashed into my face so hard I had to strangle the scream before it could escape my lips, only a small grunt coming out. My cheek pounding with pain, I realized I was on the living room floor. The slap had been so hard I had fallen to the ground. The rough hand grabbed my hair and picked me up, another slap cracking on my other cheek. I could feel the tears leaking out of my eyes, despite how hard I tried to stop them. Even the tears running down my face stung my throbbing cheeks. The only comfort I could find was that it couldn't possibly get worse. That was my lifeline. I clung to that thought as another smack resounded in my ears.

I could feel the weight of the stares from others as I walked past them in the hall. I shook my golden hair in front of my blue eyes, hiding the bruises on my thin frame and the shame on my face. I didn't want sympathy. I blinked back tears with the ease of years of practice and slipped into my biology class. I kept my face down as I sat in my desk, avoiding everyone.

I sat at the back of the room, alone at one of the tables. I was so thankful there were an odd amount of students in my class. I didn't have to hide in biology; no one could stare at me this way. Biology was my safe house. Or it was.

"Students, we have a new student with us today. His name is Dominic McAllen, he just moved here from Toronto." The teacher's voice cut through my reverie and I glanced up to the front of the class in growing horror.

A young man stood casually in front of the class, watching us with interest. His hair was jet black, his skin the tanned look of a guy who spent time outside frequently because he loved it. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair, intelligence flashing in them, confidence screamed at his every movement. I was stunned and horrified at his sudden arrival. My sanctuary was being violated.

I mournfully moved my books to my side of the table so the new guy would have a place to sit. I nervously combed my hair in a protective curtain between us. I wouldn't give this guy any reason to stare at me, I wouldn't.

I heard Dominic sit down next to me and I determinedly kept my eyes on my paper, trying to understand our experiment for today. I prayed that it wouldn't be a group project. It was. In partners we were supposed to identify four slides and label them. Something I could have easily done on my own. Darn. I swallowed nervously and reluctantly turned to face Dominic, to find he was already looking at me. I plastered a smile on my face.

"Hi, my name is Katrina. I suppose we're partners aren't we." Honestly, what a stupid thing to say. We were obviously partners.

Dominic smiled easily at me. "Dom. Yeah I guess we are."

I realized with relief that Dom didn't seem to notice my bruises. Maybe I could keep it that way. "I'll go get the microscope if you'll get the slides from Mr. Evans."

He grinned at me again and stood to do as ordered. Wow, he was actually listening to me. That was different. I quickly got the microscope, keeping my hair in front of my face. When Dom returned with the slides I quickly bent my head over the microscope to identify what they were. We took turns and quickly examined the slides, identifying them faster than any of the groups next to us. I was reaching for the last slide when it happened; he noticed my bruises.

"Hey," he said, his voice filled with concern. "What's this? How did that happen?"

I turned my head so fast my neck hurt. I already knew what he was talking about of course, but I wanted to have a good excuse for where the bruise was located. The one he was pointing to was on my arm. "Oh, that little thing? I got it playing volleyball. I hit the ball all wrong, and the ball was really hard." There, try to contradict that.

He frowned down at me, searching my face. "You have bruises on your face as well," he stated quietly.

I blushed and looked away from his penetrating black eyes. "Oh…um…I don't have good reactions. I can't duck out of the path of the ball fast enough."

"Do people throw things at your face frequently?"

I glared up at him through my curtain of hair. "Only during gym," I said icily. Couldn't he drop it?

Dom stared at me for a moment then turned back to the paper. "Where were we?" he asked mildly.

I gave him a tight smile and turned back to the paper as well. Silently prayed with all my might that he wouldn't be in my gym class to see how much I don't get balls thrown in the face.

After school I practically ran home, the better to get away from Dom. I made supper a bit early that night. Sometimes if supper is ready by the time he gets home, my dad isn't in such a bad mood. I am well aware that it's a faint hope, but sometimes it works. Frankly I would do almost anything to get him in a better mood.

The sound of boots outside the door alerted me to his presence. I cringed and waited from him to stomp in, but instead the doorbell rang. I blinked a few times then rose slowly and walked over to the door. I opened the door warily and looked outside, sweat pouring down my back.

Dom was at the door. I blinked at him a couple times then asked, "What are you doing here?" I didn't mean to sound too rude, but I didn't want him around when my father came home.

"English project," he said, looking honestly surprised. "I asked where and when you wanted to work on it, at you said today at 5."

Had I really? I know I tuned out some of the time that I had spent with Dom, but surely I wouldn't say anything like that. "I'm sorry Dom, now is not a good time. How about tomorrow?" I heard myself say. Good grief. My mouth seemed to go on autopilot when I was talking to Dom.

He looked at me puzzled. "What came up?"

"Um…I forgot about my…um…father's birthday," I ventured at last.

"Oh. Well that's ok. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Yeah, you can leave. I thought, but said, "No, no, it's all ok. I've got it under control." Did he see how my fists bunched and my lips tightened? "Thanks for the offer though." I prayed that my dad would be a little late arriving today.

All of a sudden a roar of an engine made us both turn. With horror I saw my father's car roar up the driveway, lurching to a stop. Crud. "Dom, you should go now." My voice quavered unsteadily and I hated myself for it.

Dom looked at me with concern. "Are you ok? You just got really pale."

"I'm fine," I said abruptly. "Just go." He looked unsure. "Please," I said softly. He looked at me, nodded and turned around to leave. He was off the driveway and walking down the street before my dad even reached me.

My father, face flushed and angry stormed up the steps to me, watching Dom walk swiftly away. "Is that your boyfriend?" he asked mockingly.

"No dad, just a boy."

"No dad, just a boy," he mocked in a whiny falsetto. "You make me sick with your lies."

"I'm telling the truth dad."

"All females lie. Just like your mother, the slut. She said she loved me, but she left, didn't even say good-bye." I wisely didn't say anything, looking away from him. "Did you hear me girl? Who is that boy?" His hand pushed me back into the wall. Not as hard as it could have been, but still hard enough.

"Just a guy, dad. I have to work on a project with him at school and there was a little bit of miscommunication about when and where we would be meeting."

His hand clamped around my arm with bruising force and dragged me roughly inside. I stumbled through the door, trying to tug myself free to no avail. He was just getting started and he hadn't even eaten anything yet. This was a new record. He shoved me into a chair, making my body slam it against the wall.

"There's supper on the table dad. Let's eat before it gets cold," I said, desperately trying to change his frame of mind.

The sneer of his face grew even more pronounced. "The food you cook isn't fit to feed rats. Just like your mother's cooking."

I ignored that comment despite its sting. "Please dad," I begged. "Let's eat, relax."

I never even saw the fist coming, it was moving so fast. All I knew was one moment I was sitting on the chair, begging my dad to eat, and the next I was on the floor, my nose gushing blood. I lay there in shock wondering what had hit me when I felt his heavy boot on my ribs, lifting me in the air. The breath whooshed out of my lungs and I tried to breathe. I hadn't gotten a large breath in when another kick in the ribs shoved me against the wall.

I hadn't felt pain this intense for a long time. Usually when my father hit me I was able to ignore the pain for the most part, but now I couldn't. I couldn't gather my defenses before the next attack, and each attack made me lose my concentration. It scared me how fast I was falling apart. All my meager defenses meant nothing now.

I'm not sure how long my father beat me. It seemed like eternity, but it could have been only minutes, seconds even. All I know is that one moment he was kicking me, the next he was stomping out the door. I lay on the floor for a long time after he left, feeling the tears leak down onto my bruised face, my nose bleeding onto the floor. I tried to tell myself to suck it up, but I couldn't. I started shaking, my breath coming in gasps. Black spots appeared in my vision, threatening to overcome me, but I beat them back with sheer stubborn will. I made myself stand up and stagger to the bathroom to clean up. I went to bed without eating. I didn't think my stomach would be able to keep anything down.

The next day at school was miserable. I had a huge, pounding headache that made it impossible to concentrate, and Dom was there. All afternoon I had to put up with him and his assessing eyes, judging me, judging my life. He had no right to judge me, and whenever I caught him staring at me cold fury flashed through me like wildfire. Through a large amount of effort and years of practice I restrained myself from yelling, screaming, and who knows what else at him, barely.

"Your dad didn't seem to happy yesterday," Dom said in a light tone. I think he was trying to be casual about it.

"Nope," I said shortly.

"Seems kind of odd for his birthday."

"Yep."

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

"Nope."

"You're moving al stiff today, tough gym period?"

I didn't say anything. The little idiot was getting too involved with my life. If he didn't stop soon I wouldn't be responsible for my actions.

"Katrina—"

"Drop it," I snarled.

There was along moment of silence then he spoke quietly enough I could talk or ignore him it I chose.

"You're being abused."

I didn't say anything, but my eyes closed and my fists clenched without my conscious consent. I took a deep steadying breath tried to make myself relax, but I couldn't.

"Why don't you talk to someone about it?"

"He'd kill me if he found out." My words were barely a whisper; even I could hardly hear them.

"Hole up somewhere, leave. You're just hurting yourself staying with your dad."

"I can't," I whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't," I snarled. "He's my father, I love him." Even as I spoke the words I felt a pang of doubt, I stubbornly ignored it.

"Do you really Katrina? He doesn't deserve it."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. "I do love him." Even I could tell I sounded like I was trying to convince myself not him.

Dom was silent for a moment, staring at the textbook. Then he spoke. "Katrina, I had a friend in the same position as you. His dad beat him every night since he was five."

My eye widened of their own accord. Since he was five. Five. My dad only started when I was nine. I thought I had a tough life.

Dom nodded his jaw tight. "His mother died when he was born, and the father took out his anger and grief on my friend. For a long time he felt that he couldn't leave because in the mornings his father would be repentant. He would say he was sorry, apologize again and again and promise to stop, but he never did. Eventually my friend just left, moved away." Dom looked at me straight in the eye. "Katrina, your dad isn't ever going to stop. They never stop. You have to leave before it goes too far."

I admit I seriously considered his words. It was very tempting, the thought of leaving my dad behind, never seeing him again. I thought of the life I could lead, the things I could do. Then I thought about my dad. He couldn't cook at all, he needed someone who would take care of him, feed him, love him, ignore his temper, and help him. I knew my dad loved me. I could remember when he would take me to the park for hours. He would laugh, push me on the swings, carry me home if I was to tired. That man was still in him somewhere. He had to be there. My dad would snap out of this…extended phase. He would.

I looked at Dom and shook my head slowly. "I can't Dom. He loves me, he does."

Dom stared at me straight in the eyes. He saw I wasn't going to budge, at the very least not today. He nodded slowly. "All right, I'll respect your decision. But Katrina, please think about it. There's more to life than putting up with abusive parents."

I looked into his dark, concerned eyes then looked away. I could hear the sincerity ringing in his ears and it made everything worse. I was making the right choice, right? Right then the bell rang. I quickly gathered my books and practically ran out of the class. I couldn't stand the tension in the air anymore.

After school I made pizza with all my dad's favorite toppings. Pepperoni, pineapple, cheese, green peppers, and spotted with fresh tomatoes. I wanted him to be in a good mood today. We both needed a quiet evening. I was just sticking the pizzas in the oven when the doorbell rang again. I glanced at the clock and frowned. It was too early for Dom to be here, and dad wouldn't be home for a long time yet. I turned on the timer for the pizzas then answered the door.

There were two men standing outside. One was very mountain like. Huge, muscled, broad shoulders with dark hair and eyes. He looked like he could break me with a finger. The other man was slighter, but still extremely strong looking. He was fair where the other was dark, and he seemed to be more of an educated person whereas Mountain was more…brawn and no brains. Both of the men seem surprised to see me, then Mountain looked pleased and Smart was uncomfortable.

"Hey, is your dad home?" Smart asked.

I looked at them warily and decided that they didn't seem like the kind of people who would take kindly to lies. I forbade my imagination to show me some ideas of what they would do if I did lie. "He's not home at the moment, but he should be here soon."

The two guys exchanged looks then turned back to me. "All right then. Tell your dad that Jack's looking for him. He'll know who I am."

"Ok," I agreed quickly.

Jack nodded at me and turned away. Mountain started to follow him then turned back to me. "Just going to give your dad a reason not to bail," he whispered at me.

I looked at him thinking that he was going to give me a message, but instead his hand lashed out and shoved me hard into the wall. My head connected solidly with the corner of a picture frame and my vision swam. A heavy boot smashed into my chest and my breath left me in a whoosh. A sharp pain lanced up my chest and I think a rib or two broke.

Trying to defend myself I held up my arms in front of my face and something, I wasn't sure what, hit them. My arms burned with pain and I knew with certainty that at least one of them had broken. I staggered away trying to escape to the kitchen, but I ended up finding the staircase instead. I didn't have any time to react. One moment I was backing away, the next I was crashing down the stairs, feeling each thump with excruciating pain. When I finally stopped falling I curled up in a ball, my breath hissing in and out.

Distantly I was aware that Jack was yelling at Mountain and Mountain was yelling back. I didn't bother trying to figure out what they were saying. Most of my concentration was focused on the sticky wetness soaking my hair and clothes. Tears ran down my face and I had to force myself not to burst into racking sobs.

After a few moments I realized I was in deep trouble. I needed to get a hospital and I was in no position to drive. I didn't think Jack or Mountain was around so I couldn't ask them to bring me, but whom else could I ask? After a few moments of racking my brain I came to a conclusion. I had to wait until Dom came. He should be coming soon, and I was in no state to get up and find the phone to call someone else. So I clenched my teeth and prayed with all my might that Dom wasn't far away.

After what seemed like eternity I heard the faint sound of footsteps entering the house slowly. I ordered my body to make a sound, but it wouldn't move.

"Katrina?" I heard Dom shout. "Katrina, are you here?"

I ordered myself to make a sound again and I managed to make a pathetic whimper. It just barely loud enough for him to hear.

"Katrina?"

"Dom," I moaned. I heard his slow footsteps on the stairs quicken when he saw me on the ground.

"Katrina? Are you ok?"

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't so far gone that I didn't realize what a stupid question that was. If I were all right would I be crumpled on the ground? No. "Do I look alright?" I asked testily.

Dom didn't say anything for a while, but his voice was amused when he spoke again. "Ok. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. I'm sorry. I'll grab a couple towels to stop the bleeding then I'll take you to the hospital. Just hang on, ok?

I mumbled something incoherent and waited for him to return. It didn't take long for him to return and I held the makeshift bandage in place as he carried me up the stairs. In the back of my mind I marveled at his strength. I'm not really all that heavy, but it takes a lot to carry someone up stairs.

Dom placed me gently in his car and I curled up on the seat, trying my best not to succumb to the black dots on my vision. Dom started the car and with a roar we sped away to the hospital. All the way to the hospital Dom talked about trivial things trying to distract me, but it didn't work very well. By the time we got to the hospital I was hardly conscious. It also didn't help that I was loopy from blood loss.

Again Dom carried me into the hospital and as soon as the staff saw me there was a flurry of action. They placed me on a bed and wheeled me away and I faintly heard a nurse talking to Dom. The last thing I remember was a bright light shining in my eyes as I drifted into blissfully painless darkness.

I woke to dim lights and Dom's face leaning over mine. I blinked at him slowly and he grinned in relief.

"Hey Katrina. How are you feeling?"

I cocked my head to the side and categorized my injuries carefully. "Like crap," I finally said. "What time is it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Early in the morning I imagine."

"When can I get out?"

His eyebrows climbed so high they almost disappeared into his hair. "Where do you think you're going to go?"

I blinked at him in surprise. "Home. I left the pizza in the oven." I expected him to laugh, but instead he grimaced and looked away. I immediately knew something was wrong. "Dom, what's wrong?" I demanded.

He avoided the question. "After they admitted you I had to talk to the police. The doctors realized right away that your injuries were from a fight and they contacted the police immediately. Since I was the one that brought you in they questioned me for a long time."

I gaped at him. "Are you under arrest?"

Now he snorted. "Of course not. If I were I wouldn't be here now would I? No they asked me enough questions that they realized I was innocent and went to your house. Your dad was there and they broke the news to him. He said…" Dom trailed off looking at me helplessly.

"What did he say?" I asked quietly. I mentally prepared myself for the worst.

"He said…I am quoting him Katrina, understand that. He said, 'if that bitch was too lazy to take the pizza out of the oven the hospital could keep you'."

I stared at him in shock. I hadn't prepared myself for that. "He did not," I whispered.

Dom nodded sadly. "He did."

"No. No. He loves me, he wouldn't say that." Tears leaked out of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Dom was immediately there, wiping them away gently.

"Katrina, your dad doesn't care about you anymore." I flinched and he softened his words. "I bet he loves you, deep down. But it's buried so deep that he doesn't even realize it. He's hurting you Katrina. You have to get away before it gets out of hand."

I shook my head stubbornly. "No, I can't. You don't understand Dom. I can't leave him"

Dom studied my expression for a moment, his eyes filled with compassion. "Katrina, do you remember the story I told you about my friend who was abused?" I nodded wordlessly. "Well I have a confession to make. That wasn't my friend who lived through that, it was me."

I stared at him. "You? But you're so strong, so proud. I can't imagine someone who went through all of that could have your…confidence, compassion."

He shook his head sadly. "When I first left I was so bitter and angry. I hated the world for not protecting or helping me. I got involved with some bad crowds, until one night I realized what I had become." He shook his head, eyes filled with old pain and sadness. "I became my father. As soon as I realized that I ran away again and started over. I got a job and an apartment and started going back to school. It took a long time for the scars to heal, but they did. Katrina." He stared into my eyes. "I have never regretted my choice to leave. Neither will you."

I was absolutely undecided. I bit my lip and stared up at his uncertainty.

"Wouldn't you love to live without the fear of what your father is going to do to you? Wouldn't you love to live with someone who appreciates you? Who cares for you? Who won't hurt you no matter what?"

I thought about the security that life would bring and I realized I wanted it, I wanted it bad. "What about my dad? He wouldn't survive without me."

"It's your choice Katrina. I can't make it for you. You have to weigh your life against his." He touched my cheek with a feather touch. "I know which I would choose."

I shook my head. "He's my dad Dom. I can't just leave him."

"Yes, he's your dad. But he hasn't been treating you like a father should. Maybe you should give him some time to cool off. You know, give him time to think about what he's been doing."

"I don't where to go," I admitted.

"Hey," he said softly. "Don't worry about it. I'm here, I'll help."

I looked into his soft dark eyes, trying to make an impossible decision. I could read the compassion and truth in his eyes, and I knew I could trust him. Maybe he was right about my father. Things weren't getting any better, and maybe giving him time to think would do some good. I didn't think it would hurt. I stared into his eyes then nodded slowly.

"All right. I'll leave," I said softly.

Dom flashed me a warm smile and squeezed my hand gently. "Don't worry about a thing Katrina. I'll be there for you no matter what."

Hope fluttered in me and I squeezed his hand back. "Promise?" I asked.

"Promise."