Kylee once again ran over the scenario of getting permission to go to the beach.

She stepped into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch, her hands tapping her knees. She needed the right moment, the perfect opportunity. Otherwise, she knew Bill would say no just to be spiteful.

A commercial came on, and Bill picked up the remote, flipping through channels. Kylee exhaled, so intent on her thoughts she didn’t know what he was watching.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Kylee blurted out. Ugh. What a lame beginning.

Bill didn’t glance at her. He took a sip of his beer and changed the channel.

“Some kids from school are going to the beach,” Kylee continued. If all she got was silence, it wouldn’t be so bad. She could pretend it was a yes. “They invited me. Can I go?” Now she held her breath, waiting to see what Bill would say.

Nothing. The game came back on and Bill settled in his chair, dropping the remote on the end table with a loud belch.

“Okay, then,” she said, pushing herself to her feet with fake cheer. “Sounds great. I’ll be off in the morning, then.” She made a beeline for the kitchen, already envisioning herself locked in her room, out of Bill’s reach.

“Kylee!” Bill shouted, sitting up in his chair.

Kylee froze in the doorway, then slowly turned around. “I can go, right? You know, to the beach. We talked about it.” Kind of.

“Leave her alone,” Theresa said from where she stood by the couch.

“Always sticking your nose where it don’t belong.”

Her mother took a step toward them. “Kylee, go back to the kitchen.”

Bill rose to his feet, rolling his head and popping his neck. “Worthless, just like your mom.” He shoved Theresa aside and stepped toward Kylee.

“I just want to go out tomorrow,” she said, hating the pleading that entered her voice. “I’ll get my chores done when I get back. I promise. Let me go for a bit.”

“You got something to say, girl?” Bill backhanded her across the face, and Kylee caught herself before she crashed into the doorframe.

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way!” he hollered.

He was out of control. The skin on the back of Kylee’s neck prickled, warning her of danger.

“Go to your room, Kylee,” her mother said.

“Yeah, Kylee,” Bill sneered. “Go to your room so I can take care of your mom.”

“I’m not trying to be ungrateful.” Why couldn’t he let her go?

Bill’s fist lashed out again. This time Kylee ducked in time, and his fist propelled through the empty air.

Theresa grabbed Bill’s arm. He rammed his elbow back, smacking her in the face. “Kylee! Go. Now!” her mom said, one hand pressed against her cheekbone.

She’d watched this scene play out dozens of times, and she knew she couldn’t help her mom. If she didn’t leave now, Bill would just get angrier.

But as Kylee turned on her heel and raced for her room, she couldn’t shake the feeling of cowardice and guilt at leaving her mother behind.

She locked her door with shaking hands. Then she grabbed the chair from her desk and wedged it under the knob.

Get out, get out, get out.

The thought hammered through her head like a metronome. She couldn’t stay here. Bill would get in. Kylee whirled around. She slipped out the open window and raced across the yard. Bill’s voice carried all the way to the tree line. Kylee covered her ears, sobbing as she ran to her fallen trunk. Shaking and trembling, she crawled inside the hollow.

Finally, silence. From here she couldn’t hear Bill. She was safe.

Her heart tightened as she thought of her mother. Bill would turn on her now, take out his anger on someone else. “Stupid, stupid,” Kylee sobbed. She never should’ve asked to go to the beach. She knew better.

She needed a release. She needed a cut. To hell with her resolution. Reaching behind her and digging her fingers into the dirt, Kylee’s fingers brushed the small paring knife before she found what she wanted: a sharp steak knife.

Reckless, shaking with emotion, Kylee dug the knife into her skin at the bend of her arm and ran it down toward her wrist, right over the jagged scar. The red blood welled up along her forearm before spilling over the sides in small rivulets.

Kylee waited for the pain to come. It didn’t. Angry and impatient, she gripped the knife in her bloody fingers and cut the other arm the exact same way.

And then the sensation kicked in. She gasped as the nerve endings sent wave after wave of agony through her arms. Adrenaline drove out the anger and hurt, and she focused instead on the physical throbbing of her body.

Such relief. Kylee settled back under the tree and shut her eyes, cradling her arms against her body.

She’d cut herself deeper than usual. The blood soaked into her shirt. Her arms felt hot, like fire had started beneath her skin. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids seemed made of lead. Her short, shallow breaths deepened as her heart rate slowed. A small warning bell rang in her head. Should she be alarmed? It took a monumental effort, but she pried one eye open. Cloudiness fogged her mind, and she tried to lift her head up.

Too much blood. The sight of it pooling across her abdomen and creeping up her shirt startled her into reality.

Swearing at herself, Kylee yanked her shirt off and tore it up. Her hands trembled so badly she could hardly do a bandage, but she managed to wrap both arms up.

She crossed them over her exposed torso, her teeth chattering. She couldn’t think anymore. Exhaustion hit her between the eyes. She’d done what she could; there was nothing else to do. She lay down in the dirt, still clutching her elbows, and let the heavy fog wrap around her mind.