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from this, I jab my free hand into his stomach hard enough that he doubles over. My heart slams against the rocks of my ribcage while my head is a jumble of words and images I can’t place and full of feelings I can’t define. My vision is blurry, out of focus and I can’t quite see straight. Suddenly I feel like I’m falling and crashing all at once and one thought punches through my haze of panic: get out!
    Trent shouts for me but I’m already gone.
    My feet pound against the hardwood floor and carry me out of there fast as hell. Rhett’s behind me – I can hear his footsteps – and Michael’s running too. I just keep going. A hollow sob that doesn’t really know what to do with itself wrecks my lungs and I’m retching with tears and for oxygen as I burst into the night air. The sprinklers have turned on and it seems too fitting that, as I sprint through the golf course, mud flies around me and stains the dress and my legs and everything on me.
    Abruptly I stop.
    Concentrate.
    My breaths are ragged and labored from the running and the panic and I have to take my pulse. Too fast to count with my brain slipping in and out of lucidity every second. Like a dying rabbit waiting for the grim reaper. I buckle over, hands firmly on knees, and there’s a splash behind me of a foot landing too hard in a puddle of mud.
    Struck by the thought that it could very well be Michael trying to be a father to me or some bullshit like that, I start running again despite the hard knocking of my heart. I just have to get away right now . I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing or how to get there but I know I’m going.
    “Hey!” Michael. Pretending to care. “Del! Cordelia Charlotte Kane! Get the hell back here!”
    No no no no no no no no no .
    I run and run and run until my legs think they’re done for the night and then I run some more.
    Until Michael catches up with me. His fingers nab my upper arm and tear me backwards. I let out a howl from the slap of pain clawed through my shoulder.
    “What do you think you’re doing, young lady?”
    I’m screaming and crying and not completely sure what’s happening. All I know is he’s holding me tightly with both hands on my arms and the moon is suffocating bright and my mother is replacing me with a new child. “Get off of me!”
    “I am your father and you will respect me,” he argues kindly without a raised voice.
    I gasp in air and shout at the top of my lungs, “You will never be my father! Get the fuck away from me right now. This is harassment!”
    Between words, I try to yank my arms away from him to no avail. He’s much stronger than me and has more motivation to restrain me than Trent did.
    “Listen to me, Del. You need to calm down. Everything’s going to be fine if you calm down right now .”
    “Let me go, Michael!”
    Then Rhett’s there behind Michael with his jacket off and his tie undone. “Hey, asshole, she asked you to leave her alone.”
    Michael turns around but doesn’t loosen his grip on my arms, giving me the chance to catch my breath and collect myself without him seeing. “And who do you think you are?”
    “Cordelia’s boyfriend,” he answers softly but charged, “and I’m afraid you need to let go or-”
    “Or what? You’re some kid. I’m her legal guardian. I have a right to discipline my child.”
    “Then I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
    My heaving lungs and liquefied stomach distract me from the exchange until the gunshot of Rhett’s knuckles connecting with Michael’s face catches me off guard. My stepfather clutches his face and lets out a string of rather impressive expletives before trying to smack Rhett in the face with his own fist. But Rhett’s too fast and Michael’s nails catch his collarbone and nothing else. So Rhett pushes him onto the ground and sends one boot into his stomach for good measure.
    Michael groans and, before passing out, glares up at me. “Don’t you dare come home