I stood on the stairs, wildly confused. Something was wrong. I was home, wasn't I? So why did everything seem different?

                But then I watched as my father walked into the hallway and I relaxed. Right. Of course. I was home, and my father was here, and everything was normal.

                "Ace," he said, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking out of the front door. "Ace, don't rollerblade without me watching you!"

                "Dad," I said. Or, at least, I tried to say it. My words cut off as soon as they left my mouth, a taunt in the air that never reached my father's ears.

                "Ace!" dad said again, moving closer to the door. "Why don't you listen to me? Why are you always such a bad boy?"

                I shrank down, peeking between the railings. I was a bad boy.

                When I peeked over the railing, though, I was no longer in my house. I was in my Aunt's house, and I was looking down at myself and my cousin Phil.

                "You're bad," Phil yelled, shoving me to the ground.

                I watched myself desperately try to hush Phil before our parents heard us. A primal terror slowly paralyzed my body as I watched the scene. Consequences. There were always consequences. Our parents would hear us and they'd come down here and punish us. Phil's mom would beat us until we begged her to stop. My father would scream until my ears hurt.

                "Bad, bad, bad!" Phil cried, and suddenly I was on the ground looking up at him, trying to throw my arms up to defend myself. Why couldn't I move my arms? Why couldn't I close my eyes? I didn't want to be here anymore.

                "Bad, Ace, you're bad." I wasn't looking at Phil anymore; now it was Jack. "You're bad and they'll find you. Your dad knows where you are, Ace. He's on his fucking way to punish you. You stole his money and left him. Bad, bad, ba-"

                I sat up in my bed, chest heaving, cold sweat coating my skin. My eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness of the room as I gripped the covers too tightly in my hands.

                I threw my covers off and stood up, stumbling away from my bed, my heart beating too fast. It was too hot in here. Why the hell was it so hot?

                I left my bedroom and hurried down the stairs, throwing open the front door and falling to my knees on the porch. I gulped in the fresh air, letting the cool night breeze wash over my skin.

                Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I squeezed my eyes shut. Just a nightmare. Just a stupid nightmare. I wasn't a damn child anymore. I shouldn't be overreacting this much to some stupid nightmare.

                I heard a noise behind me and turned, scrambling away in surprise. "Oh, Jesus!"

                "As much as you need Jesus, he's not here," Ike said. He held a glass of water out to me.

                I took it and Ike stepped out, shutting the door behind him. I leaned against the railing and chugged half the glass of water before forcing myself to stop.

                Ike leaned against the railing, looking up at the sky. The breeze pushed his dark hair into his face, but he made no moves to brush it away.

                "Sometimes I dream about my mom," he said at last. "She's on fire and my dad pours his drink on her and it only makes the fire worse. Joshie would dream about her too. I'd wake up to his screams. He'd be crying and thrashing and screaming. Our dad would stand in the doorway and take another shot."

                I set the glass down ran my hands through my hair, hating the way they trembled. God, I was too old for this to be happening. It had been too long.

                "Ace, you don't outgrow trauma," Ike said. "We're all traumatized, but you and Alexis had it the worst. Your parents shattered your minds on purpose. They wanted to break you."

                "Alexis and I are fine," I said, glaring up at him.

                He shook his head. "No, and you'll never be fine. But Alexis...He found something to live for. He found Micah, and that helped him heal. You never found anything. Alexis was as close to a crutch as you had, but you're destructive and that relationship was just one more thing for your hands to smash."

                "Alexis chose to leave on his own," I reminded, clenching my fists.

                Ike met my angry gaze with his calm stare. "You left your house because of the things your father did to you. Alexis left this house because of the things you did to him and Micah."

                My blood turned to ice in my veins and a cold chill racked my body. I tore my gaze from Ike's, my breathing unsteady.

                I'd worked so hard to get away from my father. How was he still with me? Why was the cycle starting again? I couldn't take much more of this. I wanted it to stop. I told myself for years that I was free of him, but my body was heavy with the shackles he'd snapped on the moment I was born.

                "Leave me alone, Ike. I'm not your damn brother," I said, picking up the glass of water again just to have something in my hands.

                Ike let out a soft sigh. "You're such a damn idiot sometimes, Ace."

                "Go," I snarled.

                Ike leaned over the railing a little, hair still swaying with the breeze. "When we first met you, I wanted to hit you. You were ready to attack Alexis, and I wanted to smack the shit out of you for it. I can't say the urge has ever fully passed."

                He stepped away from the railing and moved towards the front door. He stopped, his hand lightly gripping the handle of the door. He looked over his shoulder at me with eyes that had seen far too much of the world, a boy who'd had a bright future that went up in flames alongside his mother.

                "I wish what you said was true, Ace. Because I don't think I can watch my family burn to ashes again," he said before disappearing inside, the door closing softly behind him.

                I leaned back and closed my eyes, setting the water back down next to me. Once, just once, I wanted to look in the mirror and see someone who deserved to live. I was so tired of seeing the same face everyone else saw; the face of a boy who burned bright with anger, who was fueled by a pointless desire to survive in this shithole world, who put up a playful charm to keep the reality of broken pieces away.

                I looked at my empty hands, wishing I had brought my phone out here with me. I wanted to call Jack. I wanted to call Alexis. I wanted to call someone and just know that I wasn't blowing away in the breeze, slipping away into the night but without meaning to this time.

                Instead, I closed my eyes again and pressed my empty palms against my shorts, just to feel something. I didn't have hobbies or a purpose or friends or family or dreams. I just had a natural instinct to survive, and until that was stolen from me, too, I'd keep fighting with bloodied knuckles.

                                                                                                ***

                "Ace!"

                I groaned as someone kicked me and I opened my eyes. Jer towered over me, a newspaper tucked under his arm. He kicked me again.

                "Get the fuck off the porch. Christ, what is wrong with you? You're lucky no one stabbed you. Who the fuck sleeps outside in this shithole of a neighborhood?" He slapped his newspaper down on the chair he usually sat at.

                I rubbed at my eyes and slowly sat up, my back sore from sleeping on the porch. Jer impatiently grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, making me wince.

                "Easy, I'm an old man," I said, pushing him off.

                "The fuck are you sleeping out here for?" Jer asked in annoyance.

                I ran a hand through my hair. "I fell asleep."

                "On the porch? Christ, Ace, you have a bed for a reason," he said, glaring.

                "I came outside to get some fresh air." I picked up my glass of water off the ground and stretched, hearing things pop that probably shouldn't be popping.

                "Don't sleep outside. I swear you're suicidal. You're such a pain in the ass," Jer said, shoving past me so he could sit down. He snapped the newspaper open, and I didn't miss the way his eyes found the obituaries first, as if he was expecting to find his parents' names there.

                I went inside, leaving Jer to his relief that his drugged up folks had survived another day. Survival. Surviving was not the same as living, and we had all learned that the hard way.

                I made my way to the kitchen, where Ike and Christian were, eating at the table. Ike glanced at me, but didn't say anything about last night.

                I put down toast in the toaster and left the kitchen, heading upstairs to grab my phone. I checked it as I walked back downstairs, seeing no missed calls or texts.

                Leaning against the counter, I texted Jack, asking if he wanted to grab a CD and some ice cream today. I tossed my phone onto the counter and rubbed my eyes again, feeling exhausted and sore.

                "You look awful," Christian said.

                "Thanks, I love hearing that," I said.

                Christian stood up and set his dirty dish in the sink, where we had a stack of them steadily creeping up. We tended to avoid doing dishes until the sink was overwhelmed with them.

                "Ace, stay out of trouble," Christian said.

                "Sure, mom," I said.

                Ike got up as well and he and Christian left the kitchen together. I grabbed my toast as it popped up and buttered it, taking a bite.

                My phone buzzed against the counter and I snatched it, checking the text from Jack. He'd sent a text informing me that he'd pick me up in an hour.

                I finished my toast and went upstairs, going into the bathroom and stripping off my clothes. I stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over me and ease my tension.

                I couldn't shake that damn nightmare from my mind. God, I should be better than this by now. I shouldn't still get shaken up over a stupid little dream.

                Still, it kept replaying in my mind. Phil's face suddenly becoming Jack's, my father yelling for me not to rollerblade without him, I'm a bad boy, I'm a bad boy, I'm a bad boy.

                I slapped my hands over my ears and slid down until I was kneeling in the shower, water crashing down around me. Bad boy, bad boy, bad boy.

                "Stop it," I whispered desperately. I was stronger than this. I was so much stronger than this. My father wasn't here anymore. I needed to untie his noose from around my neck and breathe.

                Squeezing my eyes shut, I forced myself to breathe in and out slowly, steadily. I pictured this rundown house with dirty dishes and furniture that didn't match. I pictured Alexis putting Micah in my arms, trusting me to watch the most important person in his life. I pictured Ike handing me water and Jer glaring when he found me outside and Christian telling me to stay out of trouble. This was the world I lived in now, not the tight, choked version my father had carefully contained me in.

                After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and pulled myself to my feet, hands trembling. Get ahold of yourself, Ace. It was okay. Everything was okay. I was okay.

                I finished showering and got dressed, towel drying my hair and pulling my beanie over it. I ran my fingers over the edge of the beanie, remembering the sincere expression on Alexis's face when he gifted it to. He'd barely even been able to afford a jacket for himself, but he'd gone out and bought things to keep me warm.

                Needing to keep my mind distracted before that dream invaded my thoughts again, I made my way down to the kitchen. I pulled out my phone and turned my music up as loud as it would go, tackling the dirty dishes with soap.

                It helped me calm down as I sang along with my music and worked my way through the mess of dishes, glasses, and silverware that had piled up. Soap suds crawled up my arms and water splashed against my T-shirt, but the nightmare stayed lurking on the edges of my mind, fenced out by distraction for the moment.

                Movement to my left caught my eye and I turned, jumping in surprise. Water splashed against me and onto the counter.

                "Just let yourself in!" I said. "Not like I live in a neighborhood full of sketchy fuckers or anything."

                "You weren't answering your phone," Jack said, leaning against the doorway. "Or the doorbell. I could hear your music, though. So, I let myself in. Ta-da."

                "This is breaking and entering," I said, using my elbow to pause the music.

                "Nothing is broken. This is just entering," Jack clarified.

                "I need to learn to lock the door," I grumbled.

                "What, you don't like it when attractive men let themselves into your house?" Jack asked.

                "I wouldn't mind that. But in this case, it was just you who came into my house," I said.

                "You're an ass." He sat down at the table and nodded towards the nearly finished dishes. "Finish being a maid and let's go."

                "It's called being responsible," I said.

                "Responsibility isn't a trait I would typically associate with you," Jack said.

                "Some of us know how to have fun and clean up our messes," I said, stacking the last dish to dry. I wiped my hands on a towel and tugged my shirt off, realizing how wet it was. "Let me just go pull on a dry shirt."

                I went upstairs and into my bedroom, digging around for a clean shirt. I glanced over at my bed, the nightmare scratching at my mind.

                Grabbing the first shirt I saw, I hurried out of my room, shutting the door. I pulled my shirt on over my head and made sure I had my wallet before walking back to the kitchen.

                "Ready?" Jack asked, standing up.

                "Well, I'm wearing a dry shirt and I'm standing up," I said.

                "Good enough for me. Let's go." He swung his car keys around his finger and walked past me.

                I followed him out of the house, locking the door before getting into the passenger seat of his car. Jack started the car and backed out of the driveway, taking off towards our usual store to grab a new CD.

                "You look exhausted," Jack said.

                "I went outside for some fresh air and ended up sleeping on the porch," I said. "Not the most comfortable mattress I've ever had."

                I bit my cheek, trying to fight off images of my 16 year old self curling up in the corner of an abandoned building, desperate to keep warm as the temperature dropped. Waking up sore and unrested but alive.

                "Who the hell falls asleep on their porch?" Jack said.

                "I the hell do," I said.

                Jack shook his head. "Shit, Ace, you're an idiot."

                "Hey, I was tired. Don't judge me," I said.

                Jack rolled his eyes. After a little, he parked the car and we both got out, heading into the store and down towards the CDs.

                I let myself flick through the CDs, seeing bands I did and didn't recognize. I looked over the cover art, the band names, the song titles. Anything to keep my brain busy.

                "You know the drill," Jack said, eyeing the cover of a CD in his hands. "Go ahead and pick something."

                I closed my eyes and let my hand glide over the tops of CDs. I grabbed one at random, lifting it from the stack and holding it out to Jack.

                My eyes slid past Jack and widened, my body freezing. My breath caught in my throat, choked off with fear.

                It was him. It was my dad, walking right there. He was going to see me. He had found me. After five years of running and hiding, he was right here, he was right here, he was right here.

                "Ace?" Jack's voice was concerned, the first time I'd ever really heard it take on that tone. It rang in my mind, trying and failing to reach me through this paralyzed horror.

                If my father turned, he would see me. He would grab me and drag me back home and then I'd never get out again, he'd be smarter this time, he'd punish me for running away and make sure I couldn't do it twice.

                Suddenly, I wasn't 21 anymore. I was 16 years old and my heart was racing because if he woke up before I got far enough, it'd be over. I had one chance to get away and I hadn't blown it then, but I was about to blow it now because I was too afraid to move before he turned and saw me.

                He'd recognize me. God, he'd recognize me. He'd see the same failure he'd last laid eyes on, only taller and more exhausted.

                Bad boy, bad boy, bad boy, bad boy, bad boy, bad b-

                "Ace!"

                A sharp stinging echoed across my cheek and I snapped out of my frozen state. Jack let his hand drop back to his side, his other hand on my shoulder.

                "Ace, look at me," he commanded. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

                I looked over his shoulder, a shaky breath escaping me. My father wasn't there. It was just a man with blond hair lazily flicking through some DVDs on a shelf.

                "Ace, what just happened?" Jack asked, catching my attention again. "You just went completely catatonic on me."

                "I..." I slowly shook my head. Why was this happening?

                Everything had been fine not that long again. Alexis had still lived at the house with us, our little family had been doing fine, and I wasn't seeing my dad when he wasn't there.

                I looked at Jack, suddenly afraid again. What if it was because I was letting my guard down for him? I start dropping my guard and all of a sudden I'm having nightmares and hallucinating my father.

                "I need to go home," I said. "I don't feel good."

                Jack nodded and led me to the counter. He paid for the CD and we went out, getting in his car. He put the CD in and let it play as he drove back towards the house.

                We remained silent until he pulled into the driveway. He ejected the CD and scribbled the date on the back, holding it out to me.

                "You were not looking so great back there. Are you sure you should be alone?" he asked.

                "I'm just going to take a nap. I'll be fine." I took the CD from him and pushed the door open.

                "Hey, text me so I know you're still alive later," Jack said.

                "Yea, sure." I got out of the car and let myself back into the house. No one was home, and the silence was maddening.

                I pulled out my phone, needing to stop this, needing to get everything back to normal. I'd worked hard to put up those defenses so that something like this would never happen. What a fool I was to think that I could drop them around Jack with no consequences.

                It didn't matter that I liked being around Jack. It didn't matter how I felt about him. What mattered was survival, because that drive still pounded through my veins, a stronger instinct than the one for happiness.

                I tapped on a contact and held the phone to my ear as it rang. It was a few rings before Delaney's voice crackled to life on the other end.

                "Hey Ace," he answered.

                "Hey, mind coming over?" I asked.

                "Sure, I can be there in a few minutes. Is everything okay?"

                "Everything is fine. See you soon."

                I hung up the phone and went upstairs, gathering the CDs from Jack. I stacked them up against my wall, looking at the little collection.

                This wasn't an easy life. I had to give up a lot of things to keep myself going. This was just one more thing.

                It was a little while before the doorbell finally rang. I went downstairs and pulled the door open, letting Delaney in.

                "Hey," he said with a small smile.

                "Come on," I said, leading him upstairs. We sat on my bed together and I sighed, slipping into just another role to get the response I wanted. "I'm sorry about the other day, Delaney."

                "Hey, don't worry about it," he said. "I'm sorry if I made things awkward between us, Ace. I really didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

                I tapped my fingers against my shorts. "It's just...I don't know, I guess it caught me off guard. I thought Jack had told you..."

                "Told me what?" Delaney asked in confusion.

                I gave him a look of surprise. "He didn't tell you?"

                "What?" Now Delaney looked nervous.

                "About me and him," I said. "He said you knew."

                "What about you and him?" he asked, eyes widening a little.

                "That we've been...well, I don't really know what we are." I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "We've been going on dates and kissing and I've slept over a few times."

                "He didn't tell me." Delaney's voice was quiet and betrayed. "He didn't say a word about that. He told me he wasn't interested in you."

                I got up and went over to the CDs, picking them up and carrying them over. I grabbed the bottom one and opened it, flashing the date on it to Delaney.

                "That's when it all started. Jack and I will usually go pick up a CD and Jack will write the date on the back when we're done." I let Delaney take the CDs from me.

                He opened them, looking at the writing, the betrayal and hurt growing in his expression. He closed the CD cases and set them down, not looking at me.

                "I can't believe he..." Delaney shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.

                "Delaney, I'm so sorry," I said, forcing myself to sound sincere. "I had no idea he never told you what was going on between us. I thought you knew."

                "It's not your fault." Delaney pushed himself off of my bed. "I'm sorry Ace, but I need to go. I need to talk to Jack about this."

                "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have told you," I said.

                "No, I'm glad you did. Obviously Jack wasn't planning on it," Delaney said, clenching his fists. "I'll talk to you later, Ace."

                I listened until I heard the front door shut. I fell back against my bed and closed my eyes. It was done, and I couldn't take it back.

                I wanted to grab that chance Jack was offering me. But if I did that, everything around me would unravel, and I'd worked too hard to let that happen. Happiness wasn't for people like me, and I was just going to have to accept that and learn to live with it.