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shattering of glass. I charge out of my hiding place to see Marcus and Ford rolling across the living room floor. There’s glass all over the place and fists are flying. Marcus has the upper hand; he’s on top of Ford, driving his fist into his mouth over and over again.
    “Stop it!” I scream, running towards them.
    They don’t listen. They keep rolling, and punching, and grunting. I leap over a fallen chair and land directly on a piece of shattered glass. It slices through my foot and I go down with a scream. I reach down, wailing in agony, and cup my foot, my hand quickly filling with blood. This is enough to stop the both of them.
    “Fuck,” Marcus mutters, shoving Ford back and standing, striding towards me.
    He looks terrifying. He’s drunk; I’ve seen him this way enough to know it. His shirt is opened, his tie gone. His hair is disheveled and he’s got blood running from his lip. He looks dangerous.
    “Don’t,” I warn when he goes to kneel.
    “You’re cut.”
    “Don’t you touch me,” I spit. “Don’t you dare.”
    “Stop it, Katia. You’re hurt.”
    He reaches out and I skitter back, dropping my foot. “I said, don’t.”
    His eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other for long moments. Then he stands up, and turns to Ford. “Clean her up.”
    Ford scowls at him, clenching his fists. His big body is panting. He, too, has blood pouring out of a gash in his lip.
    “Get out of here,” I whisper, shaking.
    Marcus turns back to me. “We’re talking, Katia. I won’t sign anything until we do.”
    “You don’t get to control me anymore!” I scream. “You don’t get to.”
    “And you don’t get to fuckin’ dictate terms to me. We fuckin’ talk, or I don’t sign. You decide.”
    “Get out!” I scream. “Get out!”
    He bares his teeth at me, a feral scowl that has me flinching. Then he turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him. I close my eyes, dropping my head. There’s glass everywhere, and blood. My blood. Their blood. Ford steps forward but I put up my hand. “There’s glass everywhere.”
    He ignores me and keeps walking, dodging the glass until he reaches me. He leans down and lifts me in one, effortless swipe. He carries me into the kitchen and puts me down on the counter. Without speaking, he turns and walks out, returning minutes later with a first-aid kit. He says nothing as he works on my cut, and when he’s done, he turns and washes his hands in the sink.
    “Ford, I’m sorry,” I whisper.
    He doesn’t look at me. He’s angry. His pride has been struck. Without turning to me, he mutters, “You decide what you’re going to do, but that man will not come back to my house again. Sort your shit out. Don’t bring me into it.”
    Then he disappears down the hall.
    My head drops and I close my eyes. This isn’t getting any easier.

CHAPTER SEVEN
MARCUS
THEN
    S weat trickles down my body as I clasp at my stomach, trying to keep the vomit at bay. I drank too much, yet again. Then the nightmares came. Nightmares of her, trapped in heartache, being swallowed up by despair. Her beautiful face twisted in agony as she stares up at me. I’m in control, like I always am. Only in this dream, she reaches up from her position on her knees, and wraps her fingers around my clenched fists.
    Then she begs.
    Her begging destroys me, even if it is only a dream. She begs me not to leave. She begs me to love her. She begs me to let her stay. I want to tell her I do love her, and that she changed me, but my mouth refuses to open. Instead, I struggle, staring down into her eyes and trying to tell her I fucked up.
    I can’t.
    My dream won’t let me.
    The worst part . . .
    Neither will my real life.
    ~*~*~*~

KATIA
    I t’s been two days since I’ve seen Marcus and I know, I just know he’s going to chase me up soon. He’s also not going to let me just walk away with a signed document. He wants to talk. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to talk. Besides, what the hell is