Crescent Wolves - G. Bailey Page 0,2

me. Down here, I can re-read my worn copies of Narnia, the Harry Potter series, and yes, even Twilight, in peace, daydreaming about being swept away into a life full of purpose and magic, where tragedy and boredom were always just the precursors to a grand new adventure.

The grimy mirror on the back of the door makes me pause, looking at my blonde wet hair falling around my shoulders, dripping rainwater onto my drenched clothes. My very dark blue eyes stare back at me, daunting me with how much they look like the very water that smothers my clothes. Not for the first time, I wonder what my parents looked like. Do I look like my mother or father? Or neither of them.

But the mirror doesn’t have answers for me. Of course it doesn’t. No one does.

I’m just pulling on a dry sweater when Mark’s gravelly voice shatters the silence into a million pieces. “Millie, what the hell?!”

My eyes go wide. “Yeah, Mark? What’s wrong?”

“Get up here,” he yells, and even from down here I can hear the alcohol in his voice. Swallowing hard and bracing myself for the worst, I pad back up the basement stairs to find Mark standing in the entryway. His hulking figure makes me feel even smaller than I normally do, and with his shoulders hunched, his beer gut sagging over the top of his trousers, he looks more like a troll than ever before. “What the fuck is this?” he demands, pointing down at the floor by the welcome mat.

“What…?” I begin, taking a step closer, and then I see it. A set of streaky, damp boot prints leading to the basement door. Shit. Why the hell didn’t I take my shoes off?! “Oh,” I say, blanching as I turn to look at him again. “I, uh… I’m sorry. It’s pouring outside.”

“Yeah?” Mark rounds on me, his bloodshot eyes flashing. “Is that right? And why the hell didn’t you think about that before you went and got mud all over the floor?”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, inching back as he takes a step toward me. “I’ll clean it up. I didn’t even think about it—”

“Of course you didn’t, because you don’t think, period,” Mark says, swaying slightly on his feet, and I can smell the stench of booze coming off him. Not beer this time, either. Something heavier. Whiskey, maybe. And there’s something in his voice that floods me with unease. Have I ever seen him this drunk before? “Sometimes I wonder why the hell we’re even keeping you,” Mark continues, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I mean, you’re useless, do you know that? We spend all this time and money providing for you, and what do we get?” He advances on me, making my heart jump to my ears. The unease is turning into full-blown fear. “Nothing,” he finishes. “That’s what.”

“Mark,” I say, my voice coming out embarrassingly small, “please… I’m sorry. Really. I’ll—”

“Did I say you could talk?” he roars, and then he does something I’ve never seen him do before, no matter how drunk he’s been. He takes a swing at me. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, and I’m able to duck out of the way. His fist connects with the wall, and he roars in pain. “You little…” he begins, winding up to throw another punch.

Where’s Tonya? She won’t be back until dinner time, at the earliest. It occurs to me that he could do whatever he wanted to me right now, and no one would be the wiser.

He’s going to hurt me, I think, heart thundering as I continue to back up. He’s actually going to hurt me.

In that instant, with that realization, I feel something strange welling up in the pit of my stomach, something cool and insistent—a feeling I’ve never experienced before. For a moment it’s enough to draw my attention away from Mark, away from school, away from everything. The novelty of it makes me wonder if this is how newborn babies feel.

I can feel something in me waking up, something I couldn’t put my finger on even if I tried. And one thing becomes clear to me, a truth I think I’ve known for a long time but was unable—or unwilling—to face until now.

I need to get out of here.

Chapter 2

I don’t have time to think before Mark is winding up to hit me again; I turn on my heel and make a break for the basement door like my life depends on it. I