“Falsehood flies, and truth comes limping after it, so that when men come to be undeceived, it is too late; the jest is over, and the tale hath had its effect: like a man, who hath thought of a good repartee when the discourse is changed, or the company parted; or like a physician, who hath found out an infallible medicine, after the patient is dead.”

Jonathan Swift

‘The Examiner’ No. 14, 1710

Chapter 1

Home is Where the Heart is…

May’s POV

I blinked slowly, a blurry, reddish hue tinted my vision.

Horror struck me the instant I realized…

I was covered in blood.

I shuddered and took a short, raspy breath. Every part of my body was ablaze with pain. A warm, throbbing sensation traveled down the length of my legs, accompanied by an awful high-pitched ringing in my ears—

My fucking head…

That awful… pulsing reverberated through my skull.

With eardrums threatening to burst.

And labored breaths growing shorter and shorter…

I began to panic, body racking. I can’t—

“Help me, I—I can’t breathe,” I choked, grasping at my throat.

It happened so quickly…

There wasn’t anything I could do to stop it—

It was a Thursday afternoon, the beginning of August. I had gone to the public library after my AP classes at the local community college concluded for the day.

My instructor, Mrs. Bridgewell recommended a couple of insightful books for a paper I was writing… with exhaustingly long titles;

“Negative Effects of Systemic Family Violence on Children’s Mental Health”

and

“Domestic External Stressors in Children and Its Effects on Education.”

She honestly seemed more excited about it than I was.

After finals were presented, we’d be holding a class roundtable. She said my topic will be a good catalyst for ‘thought-provoking discussion.’

A Permanency Planning Social Worker

That's what I wanted to do with my life. It was my passion and, honestly, who doesn’t want a steady-paying government job?

I wanted to help children, the ones who weren’t able to help themselves.

The public library was a short walk from the community college. A narrowly paved trail connected the two areas. 

Ever since I could remember, I’d enjoyed taking walks down this wooded trail. It was lush, green, and calming. The main part of the path extended behind the building, leading straight to the edge of my family's neighborhood.

I could without a doubt say my commute to and from school was one of my favorite parts of the day…

It gave me just a bit longer before I had to return home.

I wouldn't recount my domestic life as glamorous by any stretch of the word. But this short wooded path was the closest thing I had to peace.

Regina and Greg Adler.

My “legally” separated parents, still living together for my sake and the elevated costs of living.– Is what they might tell any passerby willing to listen.

But I don't believe anyone truly knows the reason they're still together, not even those idiots.

I honestly think, after years of living and breathing all that toxic energy, they weren’t sure how to actually live apart. They were both just… suited for each other in all the worst ways.

The human brain is a complete shitshow, a mixture of some of the most ridiculous and incomprehensible psychology. 

Anyway, there was a lot of tension in our home.

My father, that stupid fuck, would go out on dates. Yeah, as ridiculous as that sounds, there was no misread.

D-A-T-E-S.

Without a care in the world who’d see him.– Me, Mom, that guy who steals Amazon packages off our porch, the neighbors’ cat, Freddy… I could quite honestly go on forever.

At the root of all that cheating, I knew my mom was hurt, that much was clear, but more importantly,...

She was angry.

She’d always wondered exactly when the infidelity started. For her, I guess she felt there was no way it hadn't existed before this, and I think at the root of it Mom needed the gratification of knowing that it wasn’t her fault.

Unfortunately, as many times as it had been brought up, Dad never answered that question.

Good idea or bad idea? I can’t really say, but because of that, Mom took to the bottle.

Or more so, the bottle took her in a deadly grip.

From then on, she was different. For the first time in our lives, Dad and I experienced a violent side of her.

She could get scary, and she could hurt you if she wanted.

He couldn’t deal with all of that and always conveniently made himself scarce, leaving me to fend for myself.

Father of the fucking year.

That bastard didn’t even care that I’d become target practice.

Forced to wear long sleeves in the summer to cover bruises.

Fucking bullshit.

No parent should ever harm their child—ALSO, I look more like HER than him.

Hi, mini-me here. What the fuck?!

Ah, but what can I do? The part of me she doesn’t like, or doesn’t want rather, is him.

So, between #1 DAD’s neglect and my mother’s violent, alcoholic tendencies, this short path was somewhat of a haven for me.

 20 minutes.

20 minutes where I felt safe. No walking on eggshells or worrying about what I’d be coming home to. I could just be here, in the moment.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Yeah, that’s the fucking stuff. Nature.

I listened to the airy whistle of the wind breezing through the trees, the birds chirping happily, and inhaled. Taking in the buttery smell of sweet honeysuckle bushes beside me.

I felt my lips curl up into a smile. My eyes fluttered open as a few leaves brushed past my cheek. The young squirrels were even dancing in the trees way above my head, jumping from branch to branch, without a care in the world.

I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. I'd worn long sleeves again, despite it being a beautifully warm day.

The sun beamed down harshly on me, but I didn’t care. It felt nice to be out here, and I wanted everything to stay exactly like this for just a bit longer.

I frowned, drooping my head to the side in contemplation. Could I afford to linger?

If I didn’t make it home before my father left the house on some date, I would, without a doubt, catch my mother’s ire.

But even if he didn't go out, there was no actual guarantee that I’d be safe from any torment. 

Between her rage at having procreated with an infidel and his callous neglectfulness of the daughter of the violent woman he wished he’d never met, I was getting the short end of the stick no matter what I did.

I sighed, mentally preparing to head back home, as my ears perked up.

I paused at the rhythm of heavy footfalls approaching from behind. I turned to look, off in the distance was a hooded jogger.

I felt an uncomfortable itch in the pit of my stomach, but shook it off.

Joggers were in no way uncommon in this area. Nor cyclists, for that matter. They all tended to frequent this path. It actually was a huge 6 mile loop that ran all the way through the downtown area of the city.

I shrugged off the thought…

It was a nice afternoon for a  jog after all…

But with a hood?...– I paused again, peeking back, before continuing on.

I’m in long sleeves on a bright, sunny day. I certainly was not in a position to judge a person’s choice of outerwear. 

As much as I tried to rationalize it, the icky feeling of dread still managed to creep up my spine, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

I held my breath as the footfalls got quicker,

…then louder…

They were unnecessarily close! Without the intention of going around me, it seemed.

Survival mode triggered: I quickly stepped to the side, my shoes kicking up mulch on the shoulder of the trail toward a short white picket fence.

I swiftly turned around, prepared to give them the good ole what the fuc-.

It had happened so fast; before I knew it, my feet were in the air.

Completely forsaken by gravity, I was falling backwards over the picket fence.

I had been forcefully shoved off my feet. All the air knocked out of my chest.

As I lost my balance, my books flew in one direction and my body in another. The back of my knees acting as a lever, propelling me backwards over the fence.

I didn’t even have enough time to cover my head from the initial impact.

My shoulders smashed into the ground and my head boomeranged, twisting my neck…

Then I rolled.

I rolled with increasing speed down the steep hill, desperately reaching out for something, anything, to help slow the fall.

It was no use; I barreled full speed into a bed of rocks and wooded debris at the bottom of the hill. 

Those sharp jagged rocks, splintered stumps, and thorny vines pierced my skin and ripped my clothing to shreds.

My body stung, punctured and torn, arms and legs alight with a fiery sensation.

So, I lay there on the ground in excruciating pain, unable to move, blinking back dirt from my bloodied eyes.

A sharp pain in my legs originating from my kneecap. 

Something... was definitely broken.

Tears, seemingly from nowhere, welled up as I writhed in pain.

Why would someone do this? I-I could’ve died!

A single branch snapped in the distance…

My eyes widened as the wooded area around me stayed silent.

I strained my ears, but all I could hear was my heart pounding loudly in my chest.

A hard knot shoved its way into my throat; I felt like I was going to vomit.

A tremor started deep in my core, rippling through my limbs, until I began to shake. My teeth sinking deep into my lip, in a desperate attempt to quell my body.

I’m scared.

I squeezed my eyes shut, as I felt a warm liquid dampen my jeans.

I don’t want to die like this.

That’s when I heard him.

“You’ll do.” A cold, harsh voice rang out in the silence.

Those—those were the last words that touched my ears before I felt a crushing whack on the side of my skull, and then... everything went dark.