Hey guys! Sorry for the delay. I made this chapter a little longer to (hopefully) make up for it. A warning on this one, though; it has some adult themes.

For the next four years, the torment never stopped. Every night, Nathanial would come home, stinking of the liquid in the brown glass bottles, and look for Josephine. Josephine, however, became very good at hiding. For the first several months, the little girl hid under her bed when her father would come home drunk and violent. But one night, while he was searching her room for her, he happened to look under the bed and saw Josephine. Ms. Kennedy helped her with her cuts and bruises the next day, and this time, she didn't ask her where she got them from. Josephine quickly learned new places to hide in, but after she was found and beaten again, she just stayed out of the house until he tried to find her, failed, and then left to go do whatever he did after work.

When Josephine was six, Nathanial lost his job.

Since the redhead was in kindergarten, she didn't come home early anymore, but when she did come home, Nathanial would be there waiting. Sometimes, there'd be various people in the house with him, reeking of what she learned then was alcohol, and something else that made her cringe. Those were the times when he wouldn't beat his daughter, something Josephine was grateful for. But when they weren't there, and it was only him and her... She just prayed she'd be able to get away. One day, though, she wasn't as lucky…

Josephine was seven, and she came home late from Tiffany's house where her and her friend had a playdate. Tiffany's mom had been nice and took her home in her car after dinner instead of her walking home, since it was late. When she walked into the house, she expected Nathanial to still be out with his "buddies" or whatever they were, but he wasn't. Some woman not at all dressed for the cool, fall weather and wearing heels higher than Josephine's boots stormed past the girl and slammed the door shut behind her. She heard her dad shout and come running after the woman, and Josephine tried to run out, but was caught by Nathanial.

"You let her go," he growled, dragging Josephine by her jacket while she struggled, "and we were almost there." He stopped pulling her and gave her a once over, narrowing his eyes. "You'll do for now."

Josephine didn't know what the clouded look in his eyes meant, nor his words, but she felt terrified when he started dragging her towards his room. "Stop!" she shouted, reaching up and trying to pry his hands from around her jacket.

Nathanial bared his yellow teeth and slapped her face harshly, causing her to cry out and hold her now red cheek. "Shut up, you little bitch." She reluctantly listened, not wanting to be hurt again. Maybe if I don't struggle, he'll let me go…

The man pulled his daughter into his room and shut the door. He roughly threw her onto the bed, and Josephine cowered by the pillows. It was dark in the room, since he hadn't turned on the lights, so she couldn't see anything. She heard rustling and immediately her fear grew. The bed shifted and Josephine saw the faint outline of her father over her. He pried her arms and legs from her chest, ignoring her continuous struggling, and pulled her so she was laying on the bed. Josephine felt her legs be pinned down by his and her arms forced to her sides. She heard her father's ragged breathing and smelt the alcohol on his breath, momentarily distracting her from what he was doing. Cool air met her hips. The fabric was gone. Before she could react, she screamed.

Pain.

So, so much pain.

More than he had even inflicted upon her.

Josephine didn't know how long it lasted. Her first scream didn't last long, quickly being muffled by a hand. Her struggles were in vain. All she could do was cry, and that's what she did. That's the only thing she could do. The only thing she had control of, the only thing her mind could process, the only thing she knew how to do at that moment.

The pain was still there, even when he left. Her mind felt like it was filled with cotton. She felt like her body was moving through jello. Her throat was scorched. Her eyes were briny. The pain was immense as Josephine got up from the bed and fixed herself. She let out a silent sob and ran. Ran from the horrible man. Ran from the horrible place. Ran from the horrible memories.

The little girl didn't know where she was running to, but didn't care. She let her feet take her wherever they wanted to. She hated him. Hated that horrible man. She couldn't think of a strong enough word for it, but she hated him. He hurt her, more than she had ever imagined he would. She couldn't think of a single reason why he would've done that. Was it the woman? Did she make him do that to her? Did she tell him to hurt her? She hated that lady, too. She had caused it.

As the cotton went away, Josephine realized her feet were taking her to Tiffany and Riley's house. She was surprised by that, since they lived fairly far away in a better area of Detroit than her home. Her neighborhood wasn't very nice, but it was where her aunt Rachel had raised her, so she thought it must've been better than somewhere else. Her aunt always made sure to keep her safe.

Josephine made it to her friend's house after a while. Her legs hurt, her lungs hurt, her head hurt, and everything else seemed to hurt as well. She stumbled up the steps to the door and knocked, hoping they'd come soon before her legs gave out. A few moments later, Tiffany's mom came to the door. She looked concerned when she acknowledged the girl's disheveled appearance and tearful eyes.

"Josephine, are you ok?" she asked, standing to the side as the redhead walked in.

Josephine nodded, sniffling. "C-can I stay here?"

"But Josephine, I just took you home. Did you walk all the way here…?"

When she nodded, the mother sighed. "Alright, but… Let's clean you up a bit."

Tiffany's mom escorted Josephine up the stairs and into their large bathroom. Josephine knew Tiffany's mom was a nurse, since that's what Tiffany had told her. She had helped Josephine before with her injuries, and she helped her when she found out her aunt had died. Tiffany's mom was there when her aunt Rachel had died. She told Josephine her heart was attacked, but the little girl didn't know by what. Maybe it was by her father. Maybe he attacked her heart, and maybe that's what he was trying to do to Josephine. She hoped it hadn't worked.

Josephine thought Tiffany's mom was very nice, especially to her. She always had the best snacks, and had the coolest bandaids for Josephine and Tiffany to wear. She wished Tiffany's mom was her mom. She didn't know where her mom was, though. Maybe she was hiding from her dad so he wouldn't attack her heart. She didn't blame her.

Tiffany and Riley's mom wetted a washcloth and dabbed it on Josephine's reddened cheek. "How did you get hurt?" she asked softly.

The seven-year old wanted to tell her, but was worried her father would find out and try and hurt her friend's mom. "I fell," she told her.

"You fell?" she repeated in confusion. "Do you have any cuts?"

Josephine shook her head. "No, but my head hurts."

"Did you hit your head?"

She shook her head again. "No."

"Hmm… I'll just give you some medicine then." The woman got up from where she was crouched by Josephine and went over to a cabinet. She grabbed a bottle of something and took out two little, purple tablets. She walked back to Josephine and gave them to her. "Here, chew these up, ok?"

Josephine nodded and took the purple tablets, putting them into her mouth and chewing them up. They tasted like grape. "Thank you, um…"

"Yes?"

"What's your name?" she asked.

"You can call me Mrs. A."

The little girl nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. A."

"You're welcome, sweetie. Here, let me take you to a room for you to sleep in." Mrs. A led Josephine out of the bathroom and down the long hallway. Their house was large, especially compared to Josephine's house. Tiffany said it was because Mrs. A was a nurse and made a lot of money. Mr. A was a police officer, but he was a lot nicer than the police officers that would come to Josephine's neighborhood. They would yell and break into people's houses and wake the little girl up. She didn't like those police officers very much, but she liked Mr. A.

The room she was taken to was bigger than the one she and her aunt had shared. It was plain, though. The walls were tan, and the bed was big and tan, and the wood floor underneath it was brown. Josephine, for once, didn't mind it, though. She still hurt, and all she wanted to do was sleep now. Looking at the bed reminded her of what happened at her home earlier, but she tried to forget the memories. Josephine crawled onto the bed as Mrs. A pulled back the covers for her. She laid down and the woman placed the washcloth in her hand on the seven-year old's forehead.

"Do you need anything?" Mrs. A asked, walking over to the door.

"Um… Do you have a bunny?"

"A bunny? Like, a stuffed bunny?"

Josephine nodded. "I forgot mine."

"Oh. Let me go and see if Tiffany has one." She left the room, leaving Josephine alone for a moment. The room had a little nightlight in the corner that gave the space a soft, yellow glow and calmed Josephine's nerves a little. The covers were warm, and the washcloth on her head was warm, too. She almost fell asleep when Mrs. A returned with a little brown bunny in her hands.

"Is this ok?" she asked the toddler.

Josephine nodded, and Mrs. A gave her the bunny. "Goodnight, Josephine."

"Goodnight," she responded, watching as she gently shut the door.

Josephine looked at the brown bunny in her arms. It matched the color on the walls. It wasn't as nice as her purple one at home, but she thought it would be fine. Shifting a little to get more comfortable, Josephine hugged the bunny to her chest. The little tablets had started working, and the pain her father had inflicted had started to subside. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she let them fall shut, falling into a well-deserved, dreamless sleep.