Prologue

PROLOGUE

Jade

Age 6

My baby brother was coming home. Jett. Mommy had been gone for two sleeps and Daddy left this morning to bring her and him home. Marissa, my best friend at school, had a baby brother. She said he was stinky and cried a lot, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t wait to have someone to play hide-and-seek with. It got really scary in the dark places by myself.

I heard the squeak of the front door opening, then it slammed shut.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Daddy called.

As soon as I heard our super-secret words, I scrambled to my feet, turned the knob to the hall closet, and sprung out.

“Here I am,” I shouted.

“Jesus, not so loud,” Mommy grumbled, shaking her head back and forth as she lowered herself onto the sofa.

“Come meet your brother, Jade.”

Careful not to make a sound, I tiptoed over to where Daddy had set the carrier thingy on the floor next to him and got down on my knees. Jett looked just like the baby doll I had upstairs, except he had lotsa hair on his head. Reaching out, I touched his tiny hand with the tip of my finger and almost fell on my butt when his little body jumped, his eyes popping open the same way my dolly did when I sat her up. He stared at me, so I stared back. When his face scrunched up, I leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Don’t cry, baby,” I whispered. “I’m your big sister, Jade. I’ve got you.”

Jade

Age 12

“I’m sorry, Jade.” Jett’s voice trembled as tears streamed down his face, while I tucked him safely behind a pile of worn-out stuffed animals in the back of the closet we shared. “I didn’t do it by purpose.”

My mother’s slurred shouts, amidst the sounds of breaking dishes, had me double-timing my efforts to hide him. I should’ve known it was going to be one of those days when she stumbled out of her bedroom this morning with a bottle of vodka already clutched in her cruel hands.

Our life had never been sunshine and roses, but something happened not too long after Jett was born to turn it into a living nightmare. For some reason, Dad stopped going to work every day. At first, it was fun having him home all the time, even though the house smelled terrible from the stuff he and Mom were smoking. Then, they started inviting some of their friends over to party all night long.

“Jett is your responsibility, Jade. Keep him in here and keep him quiet or you’ll be sorry,” Mom barked as she slammed our flimsy bedroom door.

By the time Jett was four, I knew exactly what she meant by “you’ll be sorry.” Hugs and kisses were a thing of the past, replaced with welts and bruises from their hands, or Daddy’s belt if I was particularly bad. Nothing I ever did seemed to satisfy them; was ever good enough. One thing was for certain though. I wouldn’t let them touch Jett.

Crouching down to look him in the eye, I said, “I know, buddy. I’ve got you.

Jade

Age 18

Last night I dropped Jett off at a friend’s house before going out to celebrate my eighteenth trip around the sun at Marissa’s. Parties weren’t really my scene. I was more of a hide-in-the-background kinda girl, which was why my role as editor of the school paper fit perfectly. It wasn’t my name on the byline; I was simply the one who ensured the writers used the correct grammar and spelling. Yet, somehow, she’d convinced me to let her throw me a little soirée, under the guise of it also being our last official bash before we graduated from high school.

Well, little my ass.

She’d taken my agreement and gone to the extreme; inviting half the town, including my sort-of boyfriend, Danny. He and I started hanging out after school a few weeks earlier. We’d kissed a couple of times and held hands walking in the hall between classes. However, that’s as far as it went because I didn’t go out on dates like a normal teenage girl, not with Jett at home to worry about. There was no way I’d leave him alone with them.

Marissa was the only person who knew what my life at home was like. She’d been my best friend since kindergarten, but it wasn’t until sometime in middle school when she’d first noticed the bruises I hid underneath my threadbare clothes. Convincing her to keep quiet nearly took an act of God, however, once she met Jett, she understood.

The party was—surprisingly—fun, though I’m certain the spiked punch rolling through my bloodstream helped. For the first time in forever, I felt free. Free of responsibility. Free to do what I wanted. Just…free. Which was how I ended up giving Danny my virginity. It wasn’t anything special, in fact, it hurt like hell and was over far too quickly, but at least it was my choice. The pathetic part of it all was, I knew the score before my clothes ever left my body. You see, Danny had one goal in life; to pop as many cherries as possible, and since he’d effectively sweet-talked his way into mine, the thrill of the chase was over when he left the room to deal with the condom. Meaning he didn’t come back…at all.

I spent the remainder of the night tucked into the corner of Marissa’s living room sofa, sipping on a Diet Coke while the rest of my classmates partied hard. More often than not, I found myself staring off into space, dreaming of a life I’d never have.

When the first rays of sunlight began to spread across the skies, I knew it was time to head home. Maneuvering carefully around the sleeping bodies littering every available surface, I stepped out onto the porch, then quietly closed the front door behind me.

Twenty long minutes later, I winced at the sight of my ramshackle house, which sat back off of the main road in town between a copse of overgrown bushes. Once upon a time it had been a nice place, now it was an eyesore. There were two rusted-out cars sitting in the front yard from yet another one of Dad’s “get rich quick” schemes a few years ago. He swore he’d be able to fix them up, then sell them for a decent profit. Unfortunately, he and Mom snorted more money up their noses than he invested in parts.

It hadn’t always been that way. When Dad lost his high-paying job due to cutbacks, the wheels came off of our carefully constructed bus and we crash-landed into hell. Where others would have clawed their way through life, doing whatever they could in order to survive, my parents clawed their way to the bottom of a bottle of the cheapest liquor they could afford. When the booze didn’t drown their sorrows any longer, they added drugs to the mix. That’s when their anger turned physical.

Shaking my head to dislodge the memories, I reached out, twisting the knob while simultaneously slamming my shoulder against the door. The wood swelled this time of year from the humidity, and the only way to get it open was with brute force. The lights were off when I stepped inside; not surprising given how early it was, but something wasn’t right. Thankfully, I’d paid the electric bill with my check from the grocery store last week. I flipped the switch next to the kitchen and nearly fell over at the sight in front of me. If I believed we had anything of value, I may have thought we were robbed. Our shitty sofa was missing out of the living room and the kitchen cabinets were thrown open; their contents empty or on the floor. The place was completely trashed.

As I was about to check the rest of the house, a manila envelope on the counter caught my attention. Picking it up, I saw my name in my father’s chicken-scratch handwriting on the front. When I pulled the papers out, a whoosh of air left my lungs. For years, I’d prayed they’d disappear; to one day wake up and not have to cower at their abuse. Never did I actually think it would happen .

My hands shook while I quickly scanned through the documents; Jett’s birth certificate, Social Security card, and a notarized letter appointing guardianship of my brother to me. Of all the emotions I’d expected to have at the revelation, rage wasn’t one of them. Yet, when I reached the final page and read the motherfucking Post-it note with the words, “He’s your problem now,” on it, I saw red.

Those goddamn cowards!

The front door flew open, banging against the back wall as Jett strolled in. At twelve years old, he already towered over my five-foot-three frame, taking after our piece of shit father in height. He didn’t get far when he noticed both me and the destruction.

“What the hell, Jade?”

“Language,” I scolded, even though I couldn’t blame him for the outburst. “They’re gone.”

Walking to his side, I pocketed the sticky note prior to handing him the stack of papers. Even though I’d spent every waking moment of the last twelve years protecting him from their physical abuse, he was well acquainted with their cruel words. Still, he didn’t need the guilt that would inevitably come if he saw the yellow four-by-four note. He was not a problem; never had been. He was my whole world.

“What are we gonna do now?” He looked at me with a weariness in his deep-brown eyes, which cut me to the core.

Drawing him into my arms, I responded the way I always did, “I’ll figure it out. I’ve got you.”