DISCLAIMER: SAME AS CHAPTERS BEFORE

A/N: SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY. MY LAP TOP DIED AND I'M WORKING ON A LOANER UNTIL IT'S FIXED. AND THAT ON TOP OF CHRISTMAS AND REAL LIFE ISSUES…I JUST HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER! IT'S A SHORTER ONE, BUT I DIDN'T WANT OTHER SCENES WITH OTHER CHARACTERS TAKING AWAY FROM IT!

The Last Night

"Your parents say that everything is your fault,
but they don't know you like I do,
they don't know you at all.
I'm so sick of when they say it's just a phase, you'll be okay, you're fine,
But I know it's a lie.
This is the last night you'll spend alone,
I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go.
I'm everything you need me to be.
The last night away from me."
-Last Night, Skillet

Bree-Anne's POV

Laying the pad of my thumb over the END button on my cell phone, I disconnect the frantic and emotional phone call I'd placed to my future in laws. Closing my eyes, I tilt my face upwards the brilliant sunshine that bathes the front yard and the porch where I sit on the top step, my arms wrapped around my knees as I tuck them tight to my chest. What had started out as a beautiful summer day had spiraled quickly out of control; the melodic chirping of the birds in the surrounding trees and the refreshing breeze that tickles my face seem horrifically overshadowed by the darkness and despair that hang over me. The only thing that is registering through the fog that shrouds both my mind and body is the ache inhabiting the side of my face. My cheek is swollen and red from my mother's slap and bears a slight cut under my eye from when on of her rings tore into my skin. But nothing can possibly compare to the agony that constricts my heart and lungs and makes it nearly impossible to draw breath.

Behind me, the screen door clicks open and I glance over my shoulder as my father appears in the doorway; hands planted firmly on his hips and his mouth set in a grim line as he observes me with obvious disgust and disappointment. I open my mouth to speak. To beg and plead with him to at least take the time to hear my side of the story and to listen to my reasons and explanations for making the decisions regarding mine and Collin's futures. I refuse to apologize for my choices; I love Donnie and have wanted nothing more than to spend my life with him since the time I was sixteen years old and realizing I was hopelessly and desperately in love for real. All I want is to be his wife, for us to finally get the chance to jointly raise our son and to build a family together. I shouldn't feel the need to say I'm sorry for following my heart for once. For nearly four years I've put my own happiness on the backburner out of fear of being an utter disappointment and embarrassment to my parents and brothers. All that I'd concentrated on had been protecting Collin and Donnie from the gossip and possible retribution that my baby's real parentage would bring about. Fear and shame had forced me to lie to not just everyone around me, but to myself. And I simply can't live like that anymore. I've robbed Collin of a father for far too long and I'd single handily prevented Donnie from experiencing not only a pregnancy he'd played a major role in, but the subsequent delivery and the first two and a half years of his son's life. I can never take that back; no amount of apologies or atoning can bring back all the precious time that had been lost. All I can do know is build on the future, on making our lives as strong and stable and wonderful as possible. I'm through worrying about what everyone thinks and putting their feelings and beliefs a head of my own.

Before any words manage to escape my mouth, my father holds up a hand in a plea for silence, then narrows his cold gray eyes and shakes his head slowly. And tears once again well in my eyes and the hurt and anxiety threatening to choke me as I watch him begin loading my belongings out onto the front porch. Tossing plastic tote boxes and garbage bags onto the cement; shoving them further across the porch with the soles of his runners and not showing any care or concern when some of the containers topple over or the seams of the bags split under the abuse. He's letting me know that I'm no longer welcome there; that he's shedding not only his home of things that will remind him of me and Collin, but he's effectively discarding us physically out of his life.

"Why are you doing this?" I finally manage, as he turns to head back into the house. "Why can't you just listen to what I have to say?" I ask, and I notice the way his shoulders and back stiffen and hear his shaky intake of breath. He's furious; it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he hates me. That he's pretty much hated me for the majority of my life. That I've been nothing but a nuisance since I became old enough to rebel against his heavy handed, strict approach to life and I'd grown the confidence to stand up for myself and make my own decisions. "Why does it always have to be your way or the highway? All my life it's always been about doing what makes you and mom happy. For once why can't I do something that makes me happy?"

"You doing what makes you happy is what got you into this mess, Bree-Anne," he answers. "You doing what you want and what is only good for you is what made your life the complete disaster is."

"My life is not a complete disaster," I argue. "I finally have something amazing and tangible in front of me, daddy. Why can't you see that? Why can't you see that things happened for a reason? Donnie came back for me like he always said he would. He promised me always and forever and he's finally making good on that. Why can't you see it as the blessing that it is?"

"A blessing?" my father gives a derisive snort and turns and looks down at me. "You call this is a blessing? He's the one that let you down, Bree-Anne. He's the one that lied to you and left you alone. He's the one that turned you into what you are now. If he'd never taken advantage of you when you were vulnerable and he'd never come between you and Dean..."

"Don never took advantage of me," I quickly, and adamantly, defend my future husband. "I was vulnerable because of the problems that Dean and I were having and maybe I wasn't in the right frame of mine to make the best decisions, but he was there for me when I needed someone. He was there when no one else was. When you and mom turned your back on me because you both thought I should stay with Dean no matter what was going on in our lives, Don was the one who listened to me and understood where I was coming from. He was the one that helped me and you…"

"He helped you?" my dad gives a dry laugh. "Is that what you call what he did? Is that what you call convincing you to have an affair with him? Brainwashing you into thinking that adultery is acceptable? Sweet talking his way into your bed and then tossing you to the curb like yesterday's trash?"

I shake my head in denial. "That isn't how it happened and you know it. Dean was a monster; he was mean and abusive and both you and him made me feel like I was trapped and like I didn't have anywhere else to go and who to turn to! You thought it was okay, dad! You thought that what Dean was doing was perfectly acceptable!"

"You had an obligation to him!" my father snaps. "When you took your vows you promised to love, honor and obey him!"

"I never promised to let him treat me like a whore off of the street!" I cry, and jumping to my feet, plant myself directly in front of my father and jam a finger repeatedly into his chest. "I never promised that he'd talk to me like I was no better than the prostitutes he dragged off to jail in the course of his job. I never promised that I'd take the black eyes and the split lips and the cracked ribs and the busted ear drum! I never promised that I'd be okay with all of that! And what about his vows? What about when he promised to protect me and take care of me? He broke his vows long before I did! Or is this a classic case of a double standard. As long as it's the man who's at fault everything is forgivable. Is that how you see things, dad? Is that what your God teaches you?"

"You listen to me…" he furiously snatches a hold of my shoulders and shakes me vigorously. "You had an obligation to stand by Dean through thick and thin! You had an obligation to make things work! To turn the other cheek and be the bigger person. He who is without sin should cast the first stone and you…"

"Spare me your bible bullshit!" I rage, and shove his hands off of me. "All my life it's been about treating everyone as equals and forgiving people for their sins! All my life you've drilled it into me that everyone should get a second chance! Since I was a little girl you've gone on and on about the commandments and how a good Christian and a devout Catholic should behave! And I tried, dad! I tried to live up to all the expectations you had for me! And I tried to stick by Dean! I tried so hard to be faithful and true! But the second he turned into a complete monster and began to destroy everything that was good inside of me…"

"He's the person that started to instill good inside of you!" my dad interjects. "Everything that was good and pure about you was destroyed the second you turned sixteen and…"

"And what?" I challenge. "And I decided to have sex? I decided that I was in love with someone and I wanted to give myself to them? Because I decided to hand over my virginity and break some stupid abstinence vow that you practically forced down my throat when I was thirteen! Is that what this is all about? The fact that you lost your little girl to Donnie all those years ago and you're losing me to him again? Is that why you're being a selfish, stubborn bastard?"

"I am your father!" he bellows, and grabs me by the front of my shirt, and propelling me across the patio, backs me up against the wrought iron railing. "I am your father! I helped give you life and this is how you talk to me? You have the nerve to disrespect me and…"

"It's always about you!" I yell. "Ever since I was kid every decision and every choice I've ever made has always been about what you wanted! About what you'd think about me! I'm not a little girl anymore! I'm a grown woman and I'm a mother and I'm going to be someone's wife! I'm going to marry a decent, wonderful man who nearly gave his life to protect people like you and all you can do is stand here and talk shit about him! Respect is a two way fucking street and you need to…"

"Shut your mouth!" he orders, and clamps a hand over my lips and nose. "You shut that foul, tramp mouth of yours. Who the hell do you think you are? What the hell has happened to you? You either shut your mouth or I shut it for you! Understand me? How dare you come here and embarrass me like this? How dare you come here and humiliate your mother and I after everything you've done for us!"

"Let go of me!" I shriek against his palm, and beat one fist against his chest and rake the nails of my free hand along his forearm, causing him to wince and pain, release me and raise his hand as if to strike me. "Do it!" I dare him. "Do it! All my life you've walked around here like the second coming of Christ when you're the farthest goddamn thing from it! You want to hit me, dad? Is that what you really want? Do you want to prove once and for all that the reason you defended Dean so much is because deep down you and him are exactly the same?"

My father blinks, then lowers his hand and takes a step backwards.

"Dean is a piece of shit," I hiss. "He's nothing but a cold blooded, psychopathic murder! He stole drugs from a police raid and sold them on the street! He killed an innocent kid and then stood over his lifeless body and removed the bullets from his wounds because he didn't want to get caught! He's a monster and he deserves to rot in hell for the rest of his life. Isn't that one of the Ten Commandments? Though Shalt Not Kill? Or are the rules only set in stone for certain people?"

"He never would have committed his sins if you hadn't have committed yours first," my father informs me. "If you'd never laid down with another man."

"Don't you blame what Dean did on me," I give a derisive snort. "I may not have exercised the best judgment and I should have handled things differently, but there's no goddamn way any rational human being can forgive him for murdering someone just because I decided that I deserved better than him."

"You pushed him over the edge," my dad shakes his head as he attempts to rationalize his absurd thoughts. "If you hadn't have…"

"And who pushed you over the edge?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean back against the railing and silently will my heart to stop thundering in my chest and plead for my body to cease it's uncontrollable shuddering. "Who made you do the things you did when you were young, daddy? You can't blame it on mom; you didn't even know her than. What lovely lady are you going to blame your sins and your evil doings on?"

"What are you talking about?" he asks, eyes narrowing. "What are…"

"I'm talking about the criminal record that is almost as long as Collin is tall," I reply. "I'm talking about how you spend time in jail for domestic assault, drug possession for the purposes of trafficking, public intoxication. There's a dozen other things I could bring up if you're suddenly suffering from a bout of selective memory."

"That little sonofabitch…" he mutters. "All these years I've kept that back to protect you and he turns around and uses it to turn you against me?"

"Donnie didn't tell me," I say. "I know that he knows all about you. So does his father. He even busted you a couple times himself, didn't he?"

"I can't believe this…" my father breathes, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I used to actually be mad at Don for never telling me about you," I continue. "I used to always want to bring it up and ask him why he'd kept it all back. And then I realized that he didn't tell me because he was afraid of the way I'd react. He was worried that I'd be pissed off that you'd lived a complete lie all of your life and that I wouldn't want anything to do with you anymore. He didn't want to be the person that wrecked our relationship so he kept quiet about it. So if anything, you should be on your hands and knees groveling to him for keeping your dirty little secrets. Because if it wasn't for him, I never would have been around. And neither would have Collin."

"I owe him nothing," my dad spits. "I wouldn't spit in his fucking direction! The man that you cheated on your husband with? Who got you pregnant and walked out on you when…"

"Donnie didn't know that Collin was his," I calmly interject. "He had no idea until he showed up here that the baby I'd been pregnant with at the trial was his. I'd told him that it was Dean's and that he didn't have anything to worry about. I lied to him. I lied to him, I lied to myself and I lied to everyone around me. Including Collin. All this time I thought I'd been fooling everyone about my son's parentage when in reality, the only fool in the entire thing has been me."

My father sighs heavily and rakes a hand through his thin, graying hair. "How did you know?" he asks. "How did you find out about me?"

"Jessica Angell told me," I answer. "We weren't the best of friends but we did spent some time together and we did respect one another. She'd tried to convince me tons of times to leave Dean. To just come clean about what was going on between Donnie and I. I guess she'd been worried about me and had mentioned a Bree-Anne Douglas in passing to her father. He was the one that put two and two together. Do you remember, Cliff Angell? You must remember him. He was the uniform officer that arrested you the last time. The one that convinced you to clean yourself up."

"Really is a small world," he declares.

"You talk about how I disappointed and I disgust you," I struggle with tears yet again. "You talk about how I'm pathetic and how I'm embarrassed you and mom and let you both down with the decisions I've made. But what about how you let me down, dad? How about all those times you taught me to be decent and not lie and treat everyone as if I'd want to be treated and all the while you were lying to me. All the while you were hiding your past. You always say how people atone for their sins and should be forgiving. Why is it you can talk the talk but not walk the walk?"

He doesn't respond.

"All I ever wanted was for you to admit to me what you'd been like before," I tell him. "I used to beg and plead every night to God for you to just come to me and be open and honest about the life you'd led before mom. If you'd only just…" I sigh and shake my head. "…if you'd only just told me sooner and been honest with me, I would have been able to forgive you for being such a cruel, hypocritical bastard."

"Don't you talk to me like that, Bree-Anne," he whispers. "Don't you dare talk to your father like that."

"But you can talk to me anyway you want?" I counter. "You can disrespect me and talk to me like I'm just some piece of shit off the street? I'm your daughter, dad. Your only daughter. I am the mother of your grandson and I deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. But talking to me the way you have? Putting your hands on me like you did?"

"I was upset," he attempts to reason. "You got me upset and…"

"I know that you're disappointed in me," I ignore him. "I know that I shouldn't have lied about who Collin's real father was and that I shouldn't have cheated on Dean. I didn't handle things the right way and I'll always wish I could take some it back and do it over. But what I don't regret is what happened between Don and I. I've loved him since I was fourteen years old and I've wanted nothing but to spend my life with him. And if it wasn't for Don, I wouldn't have Collin. And my son is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. He's the light at the end of every dark tunnel I've ever had to travel. And I don't regret for a moment the second that Donnie and I made him together."

"And you think that that's okay, Bree-Anne? That it's okay that the two of you created a bastard child together?"

"My son is an incredible, beautiful, phenomenally intelligent little boy," I counter. "He's my everything. He's made of everything that is good about Donnie and I. He didn't ask to be born. He didn't ask to be the by-product of all the craziness. But he was made and he did come into this world and there was never a time where he wasn't loved or wanted. And for you to talk about him like that? To call him names? That just shows me how close you are to slipping back down to the lowest of the low. So take your preaching and your self-righteous bullshit and go back inside. Because I won't have my son growing up around someone as indignant and vicious as you."

My father blinks at the harshness of my statement and the cold indifference in my voice. And as he opens his mouth to speak and to no doubt unleash another verbal attack on me, the moment is interrupted by the sounds of a car pulling up in front of the house. Tires crackling on trash that litters the curbs followed by an engine being killed and the open and closing of a door.

"Bree-Anne," my soon to be father in law's voice calls from the end of the driveway. "Are you okay?"

"It's time for me to go," I say to my dad, and then allow my eyes to survey my belongings. "It's obvious that neither you or mom want Collin and I to be part of your lives."

"We never said that," he shakes his head sadly. "We never said that we didn't…"

"Action speak louder than words," I inform him, and gather up one of the tote boxes. "For the record, there's been a lot I've forgiven you about, dad. Never admitting about your past, making me feel as if I was just a piece of trash that deserved what Dean was doing to me…"

"Bree-Anne, I never…"

"Keeping Donnie from me," I finish. "You thought I didn't know about that, didn't you. You had no idea that I knew about all the times he'd call and you wouldn't let him speak to me. I'm not a stupid girl, you know. I could figure it all out for myself. Don's the type of man that always keeps his word. And when he didn't come for me like he promised he would, I knew that there was greater forces in play. I guess I just thought that he'd be the one person to finally make you realize what kind of damage you were doing to me. Wishful thinking, I guess. Or maybe things were supposed to happen that way. So that when you finally met your demise, you'd meet it in a way you'd never forget."

"Is everything all right?" Flack Senior asks, as he mounts the front porch; blue eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight of the plastic boxes and garbage bags. "What's going on here?" he inquires, as he notices the tearing and wrinkling to my shirt, my tear stained face and my swollen face.

"A minor misunderstanding," my father replies. "None of your goddamn business."

"Girl looks like she's gone a couple rounds with Mike Tyson," Senior observes. "You don't get that way unless someone's been puttin' their hands on you. And if you've been puttin' your hands on my daughter in law?"

"I'm fine," I assure him, and step to his side; immediately calmed and comforted by his towering, reassuring presence. "Can we just leave? I just want to leave."

"We can do whatever you want, doll," he says, and laying a hand on my shoulder, gives it a firm squeeze and then affectionately tousles my hair. "You go on and wait in the car and I'll grab as much of this stuff as I can. I'll send the boys over later to get the rest."

I nod in agreement and then turn and descend the steps.

"If you go, you can never come back," my dad warns, and I pause in the middle of the front walk and turn back to face him. "Is that really what you want, Bree-Anne? After everything that your mother and I have done for you?"

I simply give a tiny smile and turn on my heel and head towards the car.

One step closer to the only place I truly feel I belong.

And to the only person who ever meant the words, 'I love you' and has always found a way to show them.

Thanks to everyone that is reading, reviewing and subscribing! I appreciate each and every one of you!