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“Stop!” I shout and brace for the attack as he whips the belt, hitting my leg.

At fifteen years old, I’m not strong enough to fight back, but I do it anyway. I kick him and he falls back. I get up, but my leg hurts so bad. My nose bleeds from the punch.

“I’m going to kill you!” He glares at me with eyes I don’t recognize.

“Go ahead—KILL ME!” I charge at him, but he whips the belt at me. I grip it and stare at him. “I’d rather be with Mom than you!”

He curses, and his eyes darken with rage. I’m going to die tonight, but I don’t care. The fear that should be with me is immobilized by the pain coursing through my body. Every part of me burns.

My body jerks every time the belt slams into my shoulder, my arms, my legs, and my back. I’m face down on the floor, curled into a ball, ready to die. Ready to be with my mom.

A knock sounds at the door, and he stops whipping me.

“Who is it?” he growls.

“We’re here to collect.”

“Fuck.” He drags me into my bedroom and shuts the door.

I don’t know who came. All I hear is Dad apologizing. How come he never apologizes for hurting me?

You must survive. Get strong. Live your life.

I hear my mom’s voice and glance around. My head is throbbing. I’m probably imagining all this, but I cling onto her voice because it’s my lifeline.

After that beating, I continued to hang out with my friends as much as I could. I stayed out of my dad’s way. If there were parental forms that needed his signature, I forged them. I’d come home when he was at work. I learned self-defense from YouTube videos and worked out in the basement of Pam’s Diner to build my strength and muscles to fight back. My life had been rife with fear and abuse until I graduated high school and joined the Navy. It was the escape that altered my life for the better.

I shook my head clear of the heavy memory. So strange how the human body could remember the pain as though it lived inside every cell. The misery I’d experienced made my Navy SEAL training seem less difficult. I’d survived a horrible obstacle no child should ever have endured.

Despite what I’d been through, I was curious about alcohol and studied it while I was in the Navy and even after I left it. I had to study the beast that made my father into a monster. And now I owned an empire that sold alcohol.

Alcohol was a weapon that could heal or harm. Alcohol was found in alternative medicine like the concoctions that Forrest had developed. I offered wine as a means to entertain, to help the mind relax. But for those who didn’t have a strong will to know their limits, this could be a detriment.

Sometimes I wondered if I was responsible for all the alcoholics out there. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t, but the thought lingered. I chose this path because I needed to understand the source of my dad’s illness, and I realized, though alcohol contributed, it was not the main reason.

My dad had a choice, and hechoseto drink. Hechoseto overdo it.

I stared at my phone. Vivian hadn’t replied to my message. I pivoted and texted someone who would reply.

Arrow:How’s your weekend, Kaylee?

Kaylee:Good. Gonna hang out with Violet soon.

Violet was also a student at Whiz Kidz.

Arrow:Is Vivian home?

Kaylee:Yes. But she’s not in a good mood.

Arrow:What happened?

Kaylee:Dunno. She came home with takeout last night, looking distraught.

Arrow:Was the takeout from Ormon’s?

Kaylee:How do you know?

Arrow:Wild guess.