“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

My eyes slowly blinked open. A blurry, reddish hue, tinting my vision. My eyes widened in horror as I realized I was bleeding. Shuddering, letting out a short, raspy breath. Every part of my body was ablaze with pain. A sharp throbbing sensation flowed down my legs, accompanied by an awful high-pitched ringing in my ears—oh god, my head! There was this god awful pulsing, that left such an intense pain reverberating off my skull, my eardrums threatened to burst at any minute.

Panic started to set in. My shallow breaths growing shorter and shorter. I can’t—

“Help me, I—I can’t breathe.” I croaked, squeezing my eyes shut.

…I remember it happening 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. I needed to pick up research materials for a paper I was writing for my final. A couple of books titled “Negative Effects of Systemic Family Violence on Children’s Mental Health” and “Domestic External Stressors in Children and Its Effects on Education.” My instructor, Mrs. Bridgewell, recommended these and seemed excited about the direction my topic was going. After finals were presented, we’d be holding a class roundtable. She thinks my paper will be a good catalyst for ‘thought-provoking discussion.’ I was wholly passionate about social work, and it seemed like the perfect career path for me. Who doesn’t want a steady-paying government job? The reality of it was, 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 was young, I’d enjoyed taking walks down this wooded trail. Part of it actually extended behind the building and conveniently led straight to the edge of my family's neighborhood. It truly was a beautiful path, lush, green, and calming. My walk to and from school was honestly one of my favorite parts of any day... it gave me just a bit longer before I had to go back home.

I’d not be so inclined to say my home life was glamorous by any stretch of the word. One might say this short wooded path was a brief respite from the toils of life. My mother and father, Regina and Greg, were “legally” separated but still living together for the sake of finances and, well, me. Is what they might tell any passerby willing to listen, but I don't believe anyone truly knows the reason, not even those idiots. I think, after years of releasing and devouring all that toxic energy, they weren’t quite sure how to actually live apart. The human brain is a complete shitshow, a mixture of some of the most ridiculous and incomprehensible psychology. Anyway, due to the “split” (that never truly existed), 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. Ironically, he hadn’t a care in the world about 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. I knew it hurt Mom, but more importantly, I think it lit a fire in her, a rage. She’d always wondered exactly when the infidelity truly started. I’m not exactly sure why; nothing would have changed. For her, I guess she felt there was no way his infidelity hadn’t existed before this, and I think Mom needed the gratification of knowing that it wasn’t her fault.

Unfortunately, Dad never actually answered that question. Good idea or bad idea? I can’t really say, but because of that (mostly), 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 all alone to fend for myself. Father of the fucking year.

That bastard didn’t even care that I’d become target practice. Wearing long sleeves in the summer to cover bruises. Which is complete bullshit. I mean, 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. I had 20 minutes where I felt safe. I wasn’t 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. For the next 20 minutes, I don’t have to worry about anything. I listened to the airy whistle of the wind breezing through the trees and the birds chirping happily. I inhaled deeply, taking in the buttery smell of honeysuckle bushes beside me. I smell jasmine... there's vanilla and honey there too; it's sweet. I felt my lips curl up into a smile. My eyes fluttered open as a few leaves brushed past my face. I looked up at the young squirrels dancing in the trees. Way above my head, jumping from branch to branch, without a care in the world.

I had worn long sleeves, despite it being warm today. The sun was beaming down on me, as bits of perspiration developed across my forehead, but I didn’t care too much. It felt nice to be out here, and I wanted to stay for just a bit longer. Or rather, I wished I could stay here longer. Frowning slightly, I drooped my head to the side in contemplation. 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 were there, there was no actual guarantee that I’d be safe from any torment. Between her rage at having procreated with an infidelious man 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. My ears perked up, and I stopped walking. I heard the thud of heavy footfalls behind me. Turned back slightly to look, off in the distance was a hooded jogger. I had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, but shook it off. Joggers weren’t uncommon for this area. Nor cyclists, for that matter. They all tended to frequent this path. It actually was a huge loop that ran all the way through the downtown area of the city. It was a 6-mile trail. I’ve never walked the entire thing, but I heard from some of the girls at school that it’s quite beautiful in the wintertime. For dates, I rolled my eyes.

I shrugged and continued on my way; it was a nice afternoon to be jogging after all… But with a hood?.. 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. A feeling of dread slowly creeping up my spine 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 side my shoes kicking up mulch on the shoulder of the trail near 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, fast. I had been forcefully knocked off my feet.

All the air had knocked out of me. That bitch shoved me in the CHEST, hard. Losing my balance, my books flying in one direction and my body in another. The back of my knees acted at 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. I convulsed as my head boomeranged off the ground. My neck had twisted in an awkward position. I rolled with increasing speed down the steep hill, desperately reaching out for something, anything, to help slow my fall. It was no use; I barreled full speed into a bed of rocks and wooded debris at the bottom of the hill. The terrain was unyielding; those sharp jagged rocks, splintered stumps, and thorny vines pierced my skin and ripped my clothing to shreds. My skin stung, punctured and torn, setting my arms and legs alight with an arduous fiery sensation.

I lay there on the ground in excruciating pain, unable to move, blinking back tears from my bloodied eyes. I started to feel a sharp pain in my legs originating from my kneecap. Something... was definitely broken. I couldn’t believe this. The tears I had been trying to suppress welled up in my eyes as I writhed in pain, and began sobbing silently. Why would someone do this? Is this a cruel prank? I’d been bullied before, albeit years ago, but this is too far. I could’ve died.

A single branch snapped in the distance… then silence. 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 shook uncontrollably. My teeth sank deeply into my lip, a desperate attempt to quell my body. Oh god, I’m scared. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath caught in my throat. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. Were they back? Are they here to hurt me again?

I—I can’t do this. I faltered. I’m really scared! I want to go home... I squeezed my eyes shut tighter 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.