If ye’ thinks he be ready to sail a beauty, then ye’ better be willin’ to sink with her!

“That’s the way it’s gonna be, little darling, we’ll go riding on the horses,” my father sings, his eyes soft and gentle. He stops after a moment, smiling down at me.

“Keep singing, Daddy,” I beg, tugging the sleeve of his jacket.

“Princess, my sweet princess. I can’t keep singing, I have to go.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

“But why, Daddy?”

“Because sometimes daddies have to go away, and it’s because they’re protecting their daughters.”

“I don’t want you to go away,” I cry, my eyes filling with tears.

He strokes my hair back from my face, and smiles down at me. “You’re going to be just fine. I raised a strong, beautiful daughter. Remember what I taught you, princess—always remember to find the good in the bad. Be caring and kind. Always know your place in the world, and most importantly, never let anyone hurt you. Not ever.”

“Daddy,” I cry as he stands, blowing me a kiss.

“Remember me forever, princess. Remember that on this day, in this moment, I love you.”

“Daddy!” I wail again as he disappears into the darkness.

I never did see him again.

My legs tremble as he nears the closet. I can hear his breathing; I can hear my own heart thudding. I clutch the gun, begging to the so-called god above to please let something happen so I don’t have to use it. I don’t want to use it. It’s not in me. I’m not that kind of girl. It would haunt me forever if I was forced to take someone’s life. Even someone like him. And he deserves it, God knows he does. I snake my tongue out, licking the coppery blood off my lip. It stings, and I clench my eyes shut, struggling to take a breath without making any noise. One noise and I’m dead.

I’m frightened.

I’m trapped.

And the only way out is through him, with a gun. A gun I don’t want to use. I swallow, and I get the distinct taste of blood mixed with tears and saliva. My body shudders, and I force myself to stay steady. If he gets hold of me again, I’m dead. I don’t doubt it. Not even for a second. He’s a violent, angry, and aggressive man. I can’t believe I ever thought he was the one for me. I can’t believe I ever loved him. You just never see it coming. You never believe the person who holds your hand, the person who kisses you sweetly, the person who makes love to you on a rainy Sunday, will be the person to try and take your life.

“I know you’re here, Indigo.”

I’ll never love my name again; not after hearing it coming from his lips. I clutch the gun, pointing it out and steadying my hand. The closet door swings open so suddenly I don’t even get the chance to react. Cold blue eyes meet mine, and a slow sick grin spreads across a face I once loved. A hand lashes out, catching mine before I even get a chance to pull the trigger. I fight, though, God knows I fight. I screech, twisting my body as he pulls me out. A fist hits my jaw and I cry out, head spinning as I fall to the floor. The gun is still clutched in my hand, desperate fingers refusing to let go.

Then he’s on top of me, more fists flying, one hand clutching the gun trying to…oh God…point it toward my head. I fight with every ounce of strength left in me. I fight until I can’t breathe. I bring my knee up, and hit him right in the groin. Bellowing in pain, he slaps me so hard I see stars. His fingers wrap around my throat and I struggle to breathe as he forces my wrist to point the gun back toward my head.

I won’t die like this—on the floor, like a pathetic animal. I won’t. I can’t. I kick again, twisting with everything I have. I manage to hit him in the kneecap, and he growls, losing his balance. It’s all I need. I twist my wrist and point the gun toward his chest.

Then I pull the trigger.

And all I can see in the fading light…is red.

Heaven, you fool. Did you ever hear of any pirates going there? Give me hell, it’s a merrier place.

“Running doesn’t solve anything.”

My best friend Eric’s voice fills my ears as I walk down the gravelly footpath to what is, I hope, a chance for freedom. I give him a quick glance over my shoulder, and he raises his brows at me. Eric is the perfect kind of man, really. He’s smart, handsome in that “good boy” kind of way, rich, and overall a great guy. He’s also very black and white. There is no in-between for Eric. Just how it is, or how it isn’t. He doesn’t like the idea of me running to another country. He wants me to stay, to fight, and to face my demons. It’s easy for him. He doesn’t have a crazy, angry ex stalking him.

“We’ve been over this, Eric,” I say, jerking the heavy backpack on my shoulders. “I need to start again. I can’t do that here.”

“You can do that here…”

I spin around, tired of the same old conversation. Him trying to convince me it’s better to stay and fight, yet not understanding how utterly terrifying my ordeal with Kane was. No one could possibly understand how terrifying that ordeal was, because they didn’t live it. The months of going through court, seeing him when they put him away, living for the years that he was behind bars wondering if he’d somehow find a way to get out and find me. Then, counting down the hours until he was released, knowing he would seek revenge. The day he got out, I packed my bags and booked a ticket overseas. Last night, I received my first threatening phone call from him. That did it for me.