Chapter 1: Old friends

"Lace!" A deep voice bellowed.

I cringed, hearing the voice of my Step-dad. He was home today. Rolling over onto my stomach, I tried to suppress the growing urge to get up and obey him. I knew the consequences if I didn't obey. Too late now, I thought to myself hearing the pounding footsteps. The door slammed open and I could feel rather than see him advancing towards me. Ripping the covers off of me, he sneered down.

"Get your lazy ass out of bed. Now!" He boomed, yanking my hair and pushing me off the bed.

I fell into the routine of the morning beating. Although it wasn't much of a routine, this only happened every time he decided to pop in, which was about twice a month. Glowering up at him, I wondered for the thousandth time how my mother could have married such a drunken bastard.

"Don't you give me that look you ungrateful little bitch. I provide for you and your mother, this house, these clothes, all of this is my sweat and blood. You would be some hooker on the street if it weren't for me, so you'd best do what's right. And tell me now, what is right?" He paused the beating, alcohol tinted breath on my face.

"W-what you say is right." I whispered, turning away from his gaze.

He dropped me on the floor, I crumpled and formed a ball instinctively protecting my self.

"Damn straight bitch, and don't you forget it." Spitting on the floor near me, he gave me a swift kick to the side to emphasize his point.

I clutched at my stomach, trying to look weak to satisfy him.

"Can't take a fucking punch…" He mumbled, slamming the door shut behind him.

I sighed, relieved that the atmosphere in the room had already improved. I slowly got up, my body ached everywhere. This was his 5th day home this month, unusual considering he never bothered to come home anymore unless it was to drop off a wad of cash with unknown origins. For all we knew, he could be a drug dealer, I thought to myself.

Getting up and making my bed, I went through my after-morning-beatings-routine. Routines helped me cope with this-this life. If you can even consider it that. After making my bed, I limped to the small, dingy bathroom. Looking in the cracked mirror I wondered how I long I could survive this. There were bruises on my body and face. Some new, fresh, aching and light purple and others old, brown and yellow ringed. But all came from the same person, the same source.

Life wasn't always like this, it became this way after my dad died. We used to have a nice house, a happy family and good times in the best city in the world, New York. Then when I was just 10 years old, something called an 'aneurism' ruined it all. He collapsed in the car, driving home from work. Died within a minute, the doctors said. His death was like the death of my old life. We soon discovered mounds of debt had accumulated, my mom tried to get a job to pay it off but we were living poor soon enough. Our house gone, clothes sold and dignity stripped of us. Then along came 'James' or 'step-dad'. He helped us out for the year my mother was dating him. He was good to us, paid off a lot of the bills, moved us out of the projects and actually made me forget the pain. I thought he could replace my dad, but I was wrong. A beautiful June wedding later, the beatings started. My mother, she's only doing this for me. She just wants to provide for her family, she doesn't want things the way they were when Dad died. So we go through these same routines, day in and day out. But it's okay, because the weeks that James is gone, those are the best days of my life. Just my mom and I, nothing could separate us. Or at least I thought so.

Before that happened, there was breakfast. I hopped downstairs after finishing my routine, trying to hide the fact that James had just 'disciplined' me from Mom. She was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and holding the check in one shaky hand.

"Hey mom!" I smiled, giving her a kiss.

She only nodded, sighing afterwards. She looked long and hard at the check. Her face was one of pure concentration. My mother had never looked so serious in her life, it was like a whole other side of her was emerging.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Honey, you know I love you and whatever I do is for the best." She whispered.

I nodded and she motioned for me to sit. I perched on the table next to her, still looking at her in a weird way. What was going on?

"I've made a decision. Your uh, James just left the house. Won't be back until next month he says. This life, it isn't the one I wanted you to have. I haven't been a good mother to you." Mom's chin trembled now.

"No, you are the best mother anyone could ever want!" I protested, not liking where this conversation was going.

"No, I am not. Listen to me now Lacey, you have to listen. You can't keep living like this! You are supposed to be having fun, hanging out with friends these are the years of your life! You can't enjoy it because of that man. So I've decided to get us out of here." She said bravely.

"How?" I asked, point blank.

"Well that's the tricky part. This is the plan okay? I will be here, home waiting for when James comes home which is in a few weeks. When he does, there will be police waiting for him. I'll tell the police everything, the beatings the bruises all of it. Then he'll probably get detained, but not for long. This is the crucial part okay? You have to trust my decision on this. I will be at a Women's Shelter not too far from here and you will be staying with some people." She spoke slowly, letting the words sink in.

"No way, no. We can't be separated, I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you." I refused to look at her.

"That's the thing Lace, you shouldn't be protecting me I should be protecting you. I am your mother, the adult in this situation and what I say goes. You will go along with my plan." She fixed a look on me, the mom look.

I sighed, not ready to give in just yet.

"Who will I be staying with? Where will I be staying? There is no one you're related to and I don't know anyone from dad's side!" I pointed out to her.

"The who is a very close friend of your dad's family and the where is La Push." She cringed.

"La Push, what?" I sighed.

"La Push, Washington." She squeaked.

"Washington? Washington? Have you gone crazy? That's like a thousand miles from here, this is our home mom. Like it or not, this is our home. We can't just leave. I can't leave you in some shelter, we were in the projects so we wouldn't have to be in a shelter. Dad wouldn't have wanted for us to be separated, are you going to go against his wishes now?" I cried out.

"Your father wouldn't have wanted this life for you. That's why I called the family over there, they said they would be happy to take you in. We don't have a lot of people scrambling to help us, we just don't okay? This is the only opportunity you will have to get away from James. I hate that you have to put him with him hitting you, like its okay or something. But the truth is that it's not okay, I regret marrying him. I swear I would rather be rotting in the projects then to have to see my daughter getting beat by a stranger." She sighed.

"Fine. I can obviously tell you are distraught by this and that this is just something you made up in your head so I'll go along with it until you change your mind. But know this mom, I am not going to La Push." I ran upstairs after giving my last defiant stand.

Collapsing on the little metal twin bed I cried into the pillow. I can't believe she would do this to me. It's not that I hated moving, I just hated being so far away from dad. This apartment, crappy as it may be, was just a block away from my dad's grave. I visit everyday, putting random objects that remind me of him on the grave and give him a letter once a week. Speaking of the letter's I haven't written my letter for him this week, I thought to myself.

Finding the pen I always used to write him the letters and some paper I set to work on writing.

Dear Dad,

Still writing to you. I don't know why I do this, I guess it helps me cope. The routine idea isn't enough. Life is terrible without you. Truly, horrible. Now I find out that mom chooses to be brave and get us away from James. She chooses now of all times? When I need you the most? I should stop dwelling on the past, after all you've been gone for 7 years now. It feels like yesterday though. In a few days time I won't be able to visit you anymore, school will be starting and I would have moved in with your friends in La Push. Wherever that place is. That knot in my stomach in still there. The anger and raw emotion. I hope that mom stays safe, that James doesn't do anything he will regret. I've seen the gun in his room, I know where he hides it. I just might throw it out before I go. I am thinking about what to pack as I write this. I feel horrible for looking forward to life without James, but what about mom? She's the one who has to do the dirty work! I feel like a coward, like I'm running away. You always used to say that being brave isn't doing the dangerous, it's risking it for the people you love. Am I taking any risks by going to La Push? Or am I running away? I'm so confused. I wish you were still here, you'd make everything right.

Love,

Your daughter.

Clearing my head after writing the letter, I sealed the envelope and scrawled the date on the side. Well, I better start packing, I thought. But there wasn't much to pack. After spending a few minutes on the net on that ancient computer in my room, I realized that the weather there was mainly in the 40s and 50s, hardly ever hit the 60s or 30s. It was rainy, foggy and glum. Perfect! It matches my mood. The thing that struck me the most was that it was an Indian reservation. Dad was full Native American, but he didn't like to talk about his heritage. Only by assimilating into this society can we achieve greatness, he used to say. We didn't even visit his family, I guess this is why. If La Push was an Indian reservation, that meant I would be staying with Indians.

"Maybe I'll find out some stuff about dad." I shrugged, throwing my jeans into the small suitcase.

Ugh! No, I was looking on the bright side of all this. Mom walked in and stood in the doorway, she smiled tearfully when she saw the clothes.

"I'm doing this for you." She mumbled.

Turning away from her, I tried not to get angry. She left, sensing I didn't want her there. Lately it's been like this all the time. I try to control my anger, but I just can't. I even hit James back the first night he was here this month. I've never hit him back before, even he was surprised. My perfect, little routine was wearing thin these days. Routines didn't help, nothing did. Maybe moving would do me some good. Zipping up the suitcase after throwing the only picture I had left of my dad, I grabbed the letter and a bag full of clothes to donate. Leaving the house quietly, I looked around as I walked for something to give dad. Entering the little thrift store, I waited for the employee to count up how much I could get for the clothes. After she gave me a wad of cash, I stuffed the money in my pocket and kept a $5 to buy dad's gift. Then I saw it. It was the perfect little clay statue. Picking it up, my fingers traced the ragged edges of the claws and the mouth, pulled to an 'O', as the wolf howled. I bought two, one for dad and one for myself. Something was eerie about them.

"Where did you guys get these?" I asked the employee.

"We-uh some random person dropped them off. I think she was a Native American or something, told me a long story about the meaning of wolves to her tribe."

I shivered, this was just too creepy. It was like I was connecting with dads past already. I left the store, not liking the feeling it gave me. The cemetery was empty, as usual. It seemed like no one had any significant loved one there except for me. Dad's grave was colorful, bright and loved. I put flowers there once in a while and it made the whole graveyard smell better. I fell on my knees and read a prayer, the only thing about dad's culture that I knew. It wasn't an actual prayer, it was just a song in his tribe's language but I said it with enough conviction that it was a prayer. After digging a shallow hole in the ground I threw in the letter and gift. Spending the usual half-hour talking to him was unbearable; I forced myself to do this because the pains made the anger go away.

I arrived home a few hours later to find Mom watching outside the window.

"With your dad?" She asked.

"Yeah…" She didn't even need me to confirm, she already knew.

"I love you, so much. Tonight, you're getting on a plane. I bought the ticket already. I just talked to the family, after they heard the full situation they wanted you over there as soon as possible. I'll be leaving for the shelter in a few days. But I'll leave knowing you are safe."

I nodded, understanding the pain she felt. She didn't want me to leave, it was for the best. Packing was done, goodbye to my dad wasn't. I had no goodbyes though, only a see you soon. Because, dad, I will see you soon. And when I do, I'll have learned more about you, what kind of person you were and about your people. Our people.

A/N:

Hope you guys liked it! Read! Review! Review! Review! Did I mention review? Hahahaha. Next chapter up tomorrow.

xoxo

Lacey