Chapter 3

Hailey remembered all the times she had tried to please them.

All the chores she did, the quiet obedience.

She remembered starving so Kevin could have extra.

She remembered bruises hidden under long sleeves.

It never made them love her.

It only made them expect more, take more.

Compliance had led to her death.

This time, she wouldn't just obey.

Frank stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes bloodshot. He reeked of stale beer.

"What's this I hear?" he slurred, glaring at Hailey. "Causing trouble?"

Brenda stood behind him, a look of satisfaction on her face.

"She doesn't want to go in the footlocker," Brenda said. "She suggested Kevin go instead."

Frank's face darkened. "You ungrateful brat!"

He unbuckled his belt.

The thick leather strap. Hailey knew the sting of it too well.

"You'll do as you're told, or I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!"

He lunged.

Hailey scrambled back.

He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in.

The belt whistled through the air.

Pain exploded on her back.

Again.

And again.

Tears streamed down Hailey's face, but she bit her lip to keep from screaming.

He shoved her towards the bathroom. "Get in there! Think about what you've done!"

He slammed the door.

Hailey leaned against it, gasping. Her back burned.

Her eyes fell on the counter.

A can of her mother's aerosol hairspray.

A cheap plastic lighter Brenda always left lying around.

An idea, desperate and wild, sparked in her mind.

She remembered the fire. Not a real fire, but the burning in her lungs.

This was a different kind of fire.

Frank rattled the doorknob. "Open up, you little witch!"

Hailey grabbed the hairspray and the lighter.

Her hands trembled.

He kicked the door. The flimsy wood splintered.

The door burst open.

Frank stood there, his face contorted with rage, belt raised.

Hailey acted.

She aimed the hairspray can at his face and flicked the lighter.

A whoosh of flame shot out.

Frank screamed, stumbling back, clutching his hand and the side of his face.

The smell of burnt hair filled the small space.

"You crazy!" he yelled, his voice hoarse with pain and shock.

Hailey didn't wait.

She darted past him, out of the bathroom, and fled to her cramped bedroom.

She slammed her door and pushed her rickety dresser against it.

Her heart pounded.

She had fought back.

She had hurt him.

She looked at her shaking hands.

She saw her mother' s true face now, the cold calculation behind the calm.

She saw her father' s raw, uncontrolled brutality.

There was no love there. Only hate and convenience.