Prologue

Acid – Age Sixteen

I grit my teeth as I tighten my grip on the wallet I just stole from the dude after knocking him over, and guilt fills me.

It was either him or the old lady, and fuck, I can't sink that low, not again.

The urge to go to Halliwell's Gym to smack the shit outta the bag overwhelms me, but I know I can't. I need to get this fucking wallet to Aiden, my father, preferably before he kicks the shit out of my little brother, Elijah, who's had enough beatings to last him a lifetime.

He's only a year younger than me, but he's been through so much fucking shit that no kid should go through. I try to shield him as much as I can, but the more I go to the gym, the more bulk I gain, causing Aiden to make Elijah his target instead. Aiden knows I'll fight back now, but he uses Eli against me, so I do his bidding.

I quicken my steps.

I know it's not my fault, fuck, I know it; I just wanted to be stronger than the man who fathered us, but guilt hits me when I think of Eli’s beatings from Aiden.

When Eli was seven, Aiden put him in the hospital, and nearly fucking killed him, all because Eli refused to beat our mother while she was passed out on drugs and hadn't cooked him dinner. When Aiden doesn't get what he wants, he gets angry.

The iron bar he was trying to force Eli to take, Aiden used on him, giving him a concussion, two broken ribs, and a broken arm—then Aiden used the iron bar on our mother.

He told the cops that we were robbed, and he ran into the house to find both Eli and our mom unconscious Aiden even fucking trashed the house further to back up his story—a house we're going to lose if he keeps this shit up.

Mom was in a coma for three weeks before she woke up, and all she wanted was her next hit.

Elijah found her a year later, dead; she'd overdosed in the bathroom. He was fucking eight.

Sirens blare in the background, and I curse. I quickly jump behind the dumpster in the alley, banging my shoulder against the wall, making me wince. But I ignore the pain and peek out around the corner, making sure they're not coming after me.

I don't have a job; most places in Brooklyn know who my father is, knowing he'd want my wage for his drink, so they all refused to help me. They also knew my mother was a druggie, something my father turned her into.

I remember the sweet woman who used to shield me from Aiden's anger, treating me like I was made of glass, until she couldn't take the abuse any longer. I still have the image in my head of her snorting coke off the wooden coffee table for the first time. Aiden hit Elijah, who was four at the time, instead of her, screaming at her to take the hit or he'd go for me next.

I was only five.

I look around the dumpster again and sigh in relief when it's clear. I break into a sprint, the house only a few blocks away.

After all these years, I don't understand how they still managed to keep custody of Eli and me. We go to school with bruises and dirty clothes that hang off our bodies, yet we still live with them.

It's something I will never understand.

A few minutes later, the run-down, brown, two-story house comes into view, but so does my father. I see him through the window, holding onto the torn black couch, looking down as his body moves violently. I curse, picking up speed.

For years, he's had my brother and me steal for him, grabbing anything we can get our hands on so he doesn't have to work.

Fuck, he tried getting Eli to steal a fucking Porsche at one point, only for the alarm to go off. Eli ran, hiding out until he thought I was home, but I wasn't; I was stuck in detention when James Kilt decided he could take me in a fight all because his girlfriend at the time flirted with me.

He lost, and I got the blame.

I got home later that day to find Aiden drowning Eli in the bathtub.

I knocked Aiden out, dragged Eli into our shared room, and barricaded the door.

The next morning, when Eli went to school, Aiden dragged a knife down my back, something Eli doesn’t know.

While Aiden uses his fists with Eli, with me, he uses knives because of how big I've gotten. And don't get me started on everything else I’ve endured over the years—again, something I do not want my brother knowing.

I slam into the house as Eli grunts in pain from the floor, his back to the couch as Aiden leans over him, kicking the shit out of him.

"I fucking told you to fuck her, you little bitch!" Aiden roars.

Aiden pulls his leg back to kick Eli again, and I see red. I throw the wallet I stole at Aiden’s head, getting his attention, and then I crouch and run toward him. My shoulder hits his stomach, causing him to grunt as I tackle him to the dirty floor.

I vaguely hear Eli cough as I ram my fist in Aiden's nose, his green eyes widening in shock before I hit him again, my fist slamming into his lip, busting it.

A scream echoes in the room, and I look up for a second to see some brunette standing on the stairs naked, with track marks on her arms. The words Aiden was yelling when I came into the house finally filter through my thoughts.

He was trying to fucking pimp my little brother out, just like he did with me.

"You'll allow her to fuck you, or I'll slice Elijah's throat," Aiden threatens, holding a knife before me, his other hand tightly keeping hold of my shirt. Fear hits me. He grins, showing his yellow teeth, and sneers, "Just be grateful it's a woman and not a fucking man. Now get on your back…."

I was eleven when he started pimping me out to sick women who had a fascination with kids.

Fucking kiddie fiddlers.

He only stopped last year when I finally got strong enough to take the knife off him and stab his leg, though he did beat Eli for it….

The woman eyes me up, and my skin starts to itch, bile rising. I glare down at Aiden, and panic hits his features.

"Ol," he tries, and I hit him again, knocking him out, but my anger still consumes me.

I turn to the bitch and point at her. "You've got five seconds to get the fuck outta here before you join him."

Her caramel eyes widen with fear before she runs out of the house without any clothes on.

I breathe hard.

"Ollie…" Eli croaks, and I look at him but curse when I notice his face is bloodied.

I didn't get home in time….

I boot Aiden in the ribs before rushing over to my brother, helping him up, causing him to groan. I take most of his weight before guiding him out of the house to place three doors down. To Mrs. Andrews.

Normally, when this happens, she looks after him for me. She has tried calling CPS, but they haven't listened, which isn’t a surprise considering who the main woman he forced me to fuck was.

A fucking social worker!

"Yes, fuck yes, just like that," the woman screams, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hating myself for being hard, my eyes tearing up.

It’s years later, and I can still hear her in my head. I hit the punching bag harder, grunting as the force ripples through my arm, but I continue hitting it anyway, trying to block out the past, but it consumes me.

"Mm," she moans as she licks my tip, and disgust hits me when I feel my member twitch.

"Be careful, Ollie!" John, the owner of Halliwell's gym, shouts. I grunt in acknowledgment as I hit the bag again with a quick jab, then kick it with a round house.

After I dropped Eli off with Mrs. Andrews and ensured he was alright, I went back home and woke Aiden up while holding a knife to his throat.

I told him if he ever forced Eli to do what he forced me to do for four years, I'd kill him while he was sleeping. Then I stabbed his leg, right above the last scar I left.

I know I can't stop him from beating us, forcing us to steal, and I know I can’t fucking run with my brother, knowing that bitch social worker will be on Aiden’s side, but I can fucking ensure Eli doesn't suffer my fate.

" You need to thrust harder, baby. Come on, you can do it," the woman before me moans as a man holds me from behind, gripping my hips and forcing me to move.

I squeeze my eyes tight as the memories haunt me and I start punching the bag over and over, wishing for just a little bit of peace.

"Hey, uh, um, excuse me?" a girl's voice says loudly, but I ignore her and hit the bag like my life depends on it.

She speaks louder, "Excuse me, boy, beating up the bag…."

I growl when I miss, nearly falling over, only just grabbing the bag to keep me up, and I snap, "Will you fuck off, girl!"

I step back and regain my stance, lifting my fists, ready to hit the bag again. I'm prepared to get lost in the motions again when I feel the ring bounce.

I grit my teeth as she snaps back, "Geez, I was asked to give everyone water. You don't have to be such a jerk about it!"

I look her way sharply, my anger heightening before looking into the lightest blue eyes I've ever seen, making me suck in a shocked breath.

Fuck me, she's beautiful, and way too fucking pure to be anywhere near filth like me….

Perrie – Age Fourteen

"Harder!" I hear my dad shout, and I roll my eyes, smiling a little as I grab my water bottle and take a sip. "Fucking duck, William," he continues, and I snort.

People who want him as their trainer are either stupid or smart, depending on their ability to keep up with the man.

My father is one of the most sought-after trainers this side of Brooklyn. Although he may be on the wrong side of the tracks, as some people say, business is booming. I love that he owns Halliwell's gym.

My momma says I was wearing boxing gloves before I could even walk.

"My fucking daughter can hit harder than that!" I hear him roar, and I grin wide as I pick up my calculator.

He's not wrong, I probably could. My father taught me to fight when I was in diapers, whereas my older sister, Cassidy, patched me up afterward.

She's twenty and currently doing her four-year undergraduate program, wanting to go to medical school and become an ER doctor, working her butt off to make our parents proud, which they are, just like I am.

I look up to her, admire her confidence, and especially love it when she doesn't tell our parents what I get up to, even if she doesn't agree.

"Right, one more fuck up like that, and I'm getting Pez out here!" my dad shouts, and I laugh before continuing with my homework.

I need to get good grades to get a college scholarship. I don't want my parents to have to worry about it when they are already paying for Cass's schooling after she missed the cutoff for her applications.

Her advisor gave her the wrong date, which, to this day, I still believe she did on purpose because Cass called her an old hag.

In her defense, the woman had insulted our father because he owns the gym.

I sigh in relief when I finish questions 9 to 32 in my calculus book, and sit back, just as the door to my dad's office opens. I look up, smiling, when my dad's light blue eyes lock with mine.

"All done, sweetie?" he asks, and I nod.

"All done. Thank you for letting me study here instead of at home," I reply, and he grins as he picks up the crate of water bottles.

"Anytime. I know you're not into the whole baking malarkey," he says, and I nod, trying not to let my facade slip.

My mom invited my “best friend” over to bake, which she has been doing a lot since she met her last year. Mom seemed to have forgotten that she has two daughters already and would take Andrea out to get her hair or nails done, if they're not baking.

It's hard not to be upset over it. She never even asks if I want to join.

I met Andrea last year, and she latched onto me when all I wanted to do was stick to the shadows and get on with school. But she wouldn't let me; if anything, she became really pushy, and demanded to meet my parents, and since she’s met my mom and dad, she's tried to stick to my family. I don't understand why.

Her parents are the sweetest, and have much more money than we do, despite my father being the best trainer.

He has a habit of training for free, so….

"So, you're definitely finished?" he asks, raising a brow at me. I raise one back before I eye the crate in his hands, and I groan.

My dad laughs, and I can't help but smile.

With great effort, I stand and take the crate from him, making him grin. Laugh lines appear at the corner of his eyes.

"Thank you, sweetie," he says. I grunt and walk past him but stop just shy of the door, and say, "Oh, by the way, the mail came when you went out for lunch. There's another donation for the gym."

His mouth parts in shock as he runs a hand through his dark brown hair, which is graying at the sides. I continue, "I may have opened it to be nosy, but it's all in notes, and I counted it. There's $2,650."

He blinks, and I send him a grin before leaving his office, feeling happy.

If he knew I was the person donating to the gym—his fourteen-year-old daughter—he'd choke, but if he knew how I got it, he'd probably have a heart attack, which is why Cass keeps quiet and bandages me up.

I hand out the bottles of water to the men in the gym, and some women, my eyes focusing on the old white paint that's cracking on the walls, the chipped wood flooring, and the old, worn-out sign on the front desk.

Every time I give Dad the “sponsor” money, he spends it on the major things that need doing, including paying off loans that he's had to take out on the house, not wanting to touch the only thing bringing in money. I just wish he'd use some of it to fix the gym up a little.

Mom doesn't need two handbags a month or a new pair of shoes, and neither does Andrea.

I swear, something isn't right with their relationship; it's like my mom already knew her before she begged for a sleepover at my house last year, as Andrea sought me out purposely to get into my family, or maybe I'm just jealous of how close she is to my mom suddenly, when I never got that attention.

I give William a grin, and the man playfully scowls at me, making me giggle as I hand him the water bottle before looking around to ensure I got everyone. I frown when I notice a boy with shaggy dark blonde hair beating the crap out of the bag.

"Be careful, Ollie!" my dad shouts. I look his way to see him frowning with concern from the doorway to his office. The boy grunts in acknowledgment before his hits on the bag become more forceful.

Huh.

Shaking my head, I walk over to the ring.

"Hey, uh, um, excuse me?" I say loudly, trying to get his attention, but he ignores me. I look at my dad and raise my brow, not knowing what to do, but he just grins and tips his head to the boy.

Okay, then.

I speak even louder, "Excuse me, boy, beating up the bag," causing him to stumble a little, and I wince as his right fist misses the bag before he grabs it to stop himself from falling.

Oops….

Tension radiates from him, sweat clinging to his shirt, and he snaps, "Will you fuck off, girl!"

No, he didn't!

Narrowing my eyes, I angrily drop the crate with the last water bottle. I can already hear my dad chuckling as I storm to the ring and jump in, just as he gets ready to hit the bag again.

He tenses as I snap back, "Geez, I was asked to give everyone water. You don't have to be such a jerk about it!"

He looks at me sharply, his dark green eyes mesmerizing, but I hold the pretty boy's gaze, and snarl, "Just because you are angry doesn't mean you take it out on everyone else, especially when I was trying to do something nice!"

He looks at me in shock, his mouth opening a little, and I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at the boy.

Seriously, how hard is it to be nice? Why are the pretty ones always the mean ones?

"Well, it looks like you met your match, Ollie," my dad says, causing the boy, Ollie, to snap out of it. We both look toward the edge of the ring to see my dad leaning against the ropes.

I give him a smile, my tension leaving my body, until the angry brat opens his mouth.

"She can't take me, John, and you know it; maybe with her mouthing off, which is going to get her in trouble one day, but physically, nah," he scoffs, and my dad raises a brow at me, a challenge shining in those eyes.

I narrow my eyes, but he grins, clearly wanting me to take the bait. I nod before quickly spinning and crouching as I kick my leg out, knocking Ollie off his feet.

He catches himself, grabbing hold of the bag with one arm while his other goes to grab me, which I'm guessing is because he thinks I fell, but I stand and grab his arm, yanking him toward me, before elbowing him in the ribs. He grunts before I pull his arm, crouch, and twist, sending him flying over my back and onto the ring floor.

The boy looks up at me in shock while I plant my hand on my hip, and pretend to inspect the nails on my other.

"You were saying, Ollie?" my dad asks with amusement.

I grin and offer a hand, which the boy, Ollie, accepts, and I state, "Don't look too shocked; you didn't stand a chance. My dad's the owner; he’s trained me since before I could even walk."

Ollie furrows his brows and looks at my dad, who is still grinning like mad, before he looks at me, putting his hands on his hips, and asks, "So you're Perrie, Cassidy's little sister that no one here will spar with?"

Yeah, because they are all too scared of my dad.

I grin proudly. "The one and only…."

He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. "I can see why no one is willing…."

I shrug. No one except Cass knows what I can really do.

He nods. "I'll spar with you."

My eyes widen with excitement as I bounce on my feet, and ask, "Really?"

My dad chuckles while Ollie grins, his dark green eyes sparkling. He confirms, "Yeah, I will, and I'm sorry; when I'm in the zone, I don't seem to think before I open my mouth."

"Yeah, my dad's the same."

"Hey," my dad says as he wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I grin before looking back at Ollie, who has a weird look on his face. He blinks it away and nods to the ring.

"Ready then?" Ollie asks, and I practically bounce on my feet, suddenly happy I wore leggings and a tank top over my sports bra.

I rush to the middle of the ring. They both laugh at me before Ollie gets into a fighting stance, and I get into mine.

He runs at me first, and I dodge him before elbowing him in the back, then kicking him, my dad cheering from the ropes.

Happiness fills me as Ollie fights back harder, not going soft on me because I'm a girl or because I'm young. I feel free.

It's just a shame that in two years, my whole world will crash and burn, taking me along with it.