I can't believe he's helping me. No one ever helps me. Well, there were a few who did, but they got burned. Just like Milan will. I'm not so sure about that anymore though. My firm belief in my own destructive nature is wavering with each act of kindness he extends to me.

If there is a way into my world-weary, broken heart, it's to show kindness. I've never been shown kindness without the expectation of something back. It warms me inside, and yet it seems to burn as well. I want to push him away, but I want him as close as I can get him. I want him to forget me, but I also want him to hold me and tell me everything will be okay.

So I sit here in the passenger seat, wishing that everything wasn't so hard. That I had a simpler, happier life. That I could be in the same circle as Milan so that I could be worthy of the kindness he's bestowed so far. Fear sparks too. I don't want him to leave. I don't want my mom to push him out.

With Millie, I was almost relieved to see her go before she got hurt worse. But with Milan, I, for the first time in my life, quite selfishly want to have him in my life for the rest of my time on Earth. Granted, at this rate, it might not be much time at all. Some is still better than none, though.

A smile tugs at his lips as he reaches over and brushes my bangs out of my face. I jump, startled by the gesture of affection. Then I relax and smile back at him shyly.

"What's got you looking so serious?" he asks.

I shrug and stare down at his hands on the steering wheel. My gaze doesn't actually catch anything. It just glosses over as I think about what almost happened to me today and where I am now.

"Is it what happened today? I'm so sorry that happened," he whispers, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "I wish I'd shown up sooner to keep them from touching you at all. No one gets to touch you like that if you don't want them to."

Surprised, I look up at his face. His eyes are focused on the road, but his jaw is clenched just like his fingers. His shoulders are full of tension. Uncertain, I reach out and put a hand on his arm. "Please don't be angry. Nothing too bad happened. Nothing that hasn't happened before, and you were there to stop them," I soothe.

This only seems to make him angrier. He pulls over into a store parking lot and parks the car. Then he smacks the steering wheel and turns to look at me, frustration and sorrow glinting in his eyes.

I cower back, wondering if he'll hit me. He said he wasn't like the men my mom dates, but maybe he was lying to me.

As though he senses my thoughts, he relaxes and shakes his head. I watch carefully as he rests his forehead against the steering wheel and runs his hands through his hair slowly. His back rises and falls as he takes deep breaths. Slowly, his taut muscles relax, and he sits up straight. Turning to me again, he reaches for my hands. When I pull them back slightly, he drops his hands back into his lap and sighs. "Meri, you... They..."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, tears soaking my eyes and dropping down onto my hands.

Why am I crying? I can take this punishment like an adult. I made yet another good person mad. This is what I deserve. Somehow, my heart just won't accept that explanation with Milan.

He reaches out and tilts my chin up, wiping away my tears tenderly. I see tears glinting in his eyes through the haze of my own tears. "Meri," he whispers, his voice so gentle it breaks my heart. "Meri, you shouldn't ever accept that kind of treatment. It's okay to be upset about it. I admire you for being so forgiving, but sometimes I honestly don't believe you're forgiving them. You just think you deserve their treatment, don't you?"

My cheeks burn and I duck my head, afraid to look him in the eye as I whisper, "Yes."

He gets out of the car and opens my door. When he pulls me gently from my seat and wraps me into his warm embrace, I don't resist. It feels good to be held for once. No one ever takes care of me, and I didn't realize until now how much I need it. How is it that this boy can make me understand my own needs and desires in just a few short days when I've spent years ignoring them?

"Did God send you to me?" I murmur into his jacket, my hands clutching his shoulders as I start crying.

He pulls back, surprised. "Why would you think that?"

"Because... Because I need someone, and you've been my protector the last few days even though I pushed you away," I blurt out.

He smiles and pulls me back into his arms, letting me cling to him like a drowning man clings to the driftwood in the midst of a raging sea. "Maybe He did."

***

I push open the door and let Milan in. "I'm sorry about the smell and state of the house. I haven't had a chance to clean up after my mom's party last night."

"How do you know she partied?" Milan asks. "You were at my house."

"Yeah, well... The broken beer bottles and stench of vodka kind of give it away." I wave at the mess on the kitchen floor.

The place is trashed. Broken glass and half-dried puddles of alcohol cover the floor. Someone must've cut themselves, because there's blood on the counter and a hastily torn apart package of band-aids beside it. The smell of alcohol permeates everything.

I pick up a stack of scattered bills, which are lying on the counter. All overdue. Plus, someone spilled vodka or beer on them, causing the ink to bleed in places. I see another envelope and the contents scattered on the floor. I pick it up too and look at it. It's a notice of foreclosure. I close my eyes and force myself to put the bills and notice of foreclosure into a secure place before continuing into the kitchen.

Our kitchen shades, which have been patched more times than I can count, are now on the floor and torn to shreds. I swallow back the tears as I look at the mess. She'll expect it to be spotless when she gets home, and I still have to cook dinner. When I open the cupboards, I choke back a sob. The food pantry's been raided. What little was left is strewn all over.

I turn to Milan and shake my head, trying not to dissolve into tears again. "Why don't you make yourself at home? I... I'll..."

"Hey," he murmurs, stepping forward and pulling me into a hug. "We'll get it all cleaned up. I promise. And I'll help you figure out dinner."

For the second time that day, I break down, weeping into his shirt. It's going to have tear-stains all over it by the time I'm done. It's all just too much. How are we supposed to keep living like this? She's stopped paying the bills. Our electricity has already been shut off twice, and we don't have access to internet, so I often have to spend lunch hour in the library to get assignments done. In fact, we don't even have a usable computer anymore. She broke it when I ticked her off. Almost broke my head too since she threw it at me.

"I can't do this anymore," I moan, collapsing to the dirty floor when he lets go of me.

He crouches in front of me and lifts my chin. "You're going to stay at my place. No questions asked, Meri. This isn't safe."

I shake my head. "No. I have to help her, Milan. She needs me. If I leave, she'll get worse. I know she will because I've seen it firsthand. I..." I stop, unsure if I should tell him. Then I decide. Forget the worries; he knows almost everything else. Why shouldn't he know this? "I ran away once when I was twelve. At the time, I didn't know where to go, so I went to a friend's house. This was before she made me stop hanging out with friends. We got a call a week later from the hospital. She was there for drug overdose. I'd spent the whole week pretending that I had someplace to stay and that I was going home to my mom. I really wasn't. I actually camped out at the homeless shelter down the street. She almost died because I left, Milan! This..." I wave a hand at the disaster. "This is nothing in comparison to what will happen if I leave her."

"But... But, Meri..." he stammers. "Meri, don't you see how sick this is? She needs professional help. You can't keep living in an environment like this, and she's sick. She's not in her right mind, so nothing you do will ever fix it."

Heavy footsteps clumped above us, and I gasped, grabbing Milan's shoulders. "She's still home, and probably has her most recent boyfriend with her. You have to go before they come down here, Milan."

He stands up, reluctance in every movement he makes.

I, on the other hand, don't hesitate at all. I grab his coat from the coat rack and shove it into his hands. "Take it!" I hiss. "Go out the back door."

"Meri?" A male voice calls from the top of the stairs.

I swallow back the lump in my throat as my stomach churns. Petre is one of the worst out of all of my mom's boyfriends. I can't recall anyone who's been worse. He abuses me just like my mom does, and she lets him go further than the others. I've managed to evade him so far.

Petre is a big, strapping guy. He's got a Slovakian accent and jet black hair. His eyes are a brown so deep that they almost match. At first glance, you'd think he's not that bad. He's relatively well-dressed, has a nice white smile, and keeps himself clean shaven with neatly trimmed hair. Nothing about him screams pervert or drunk, but when he's around here, he is. Maybe he's got a genuinely nice spark in him somewhere. Maybe... But even I can't see it.

"Yes?" I answer, trying not to let my voice shake.

Milan casts me a worried look and steps in front of me, shielding me from the, as of yet, unseen threat.

"Come here, baby doll... Your mom's asking to see you. She was so worried last night."

I don't miss the syrupy tone of his voice, nor do I miss the undercurrent of desire and anger that rages beneath the false sweetness. Petre is like a rotten fruit. You think it'll be all sweetness and crisply juicy, but instead it's molded and bitter at the core. Involuntarily, I press close to Milan's back as Petre's heavy footsteps clomp down the stairs.

He comes into the kitchen, and I watch him over Milan's shoulder.

"You really need to go," I murmur in Milan's ear. "He's a lot bigger than you."

"Bigger doesn't mean smarter," Milan quipped back. "I don't like the way he's looking at you or the way he talks to you."

"Please," I plead, tightening my hold on his shoulders.

"No."

"Who is this, Meri?" Petre shifts so that he can see me despite my position behind Milan. His sharp eyes pin me in place, undressing me and laying me bare to his scrutiny.

I take a deep breath and try to force a smile onto my face. "A friend."

"Now, now... Meri, dear, you don't need to be frightened of me." He laughs and shakes his head. "Girl's afraid of her own shadow," he tells Milan. "Her mother loves her dearly, as do I, but sometimes she gets queer notions about us. Not sure what she's told you, but whatever it is, I wouldn't believe it. She hasn't been taking her meds."

I close my eyes and bury my face in Milan's back, unable to face Petre anymore.

"You can't imagine how worried we were about her when she didn't come home last night," Petre says.

Milan's shoulder muscles tighten further underneath my already tight grip. "Really? Well, she spent the night at my place."

"Did she?" Petre eyes me for a long moment. "You know how your mother and I feel about you staying at a guy's place."

"My parents were home," Milan interjects, his voice as taut as his muscles.

"Ah. Well, thank you for bringing her home. I apologize about the mess. We had some people over yesterday, and things got a bit rowdy. Had to kick several out to avoid any further destruction, if you know what I mean." Petre smiles, the grin wolfish despite the clear attempt to charm. "We kicked the rest out when she didn't come home at the usual time. Spent all night waiting up for her. But, now that she's home, she's got to help me with this mess. I hope we'll see you around again." He steps toward us.

I cringe.

Milan clears his throat loudly. "Stay away from her," he hisses.

Petre stops, frowning. "Excuse me?"

"I said, stay away from her, you pervert," Milan snaps.

"I think you have the wrong impression. I'm going to be marrying her mother in just a few months. Legally, that would make me her step-father and guardian. Exactly what has she told you?" he narrows his eyes at me, and the warning glitters harshly in them.

"She hasn't told me anything. The way she reacts to you is more than enough."

"I don't see how that's any of your concern," Petre says, raising his hands. "Besides, I told you that she's on meds. She sees things and tends to imagine that her loved ones are trying to hurt her. Sees a threat in every shadow. I'm surprised she hasn't tried to hurt you yet," he says, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "Meri, sweetie, you really need to take the meds right now. Go upstairs and get them, please."

Milan doesn't move, nor does he allow me to leave when I start to move reluctantly toward the stairs. He knows I don't want to leave his protection, so he holds me there with a gentle hand. Fortunately, he stops me before Petre can notice the movement. Still, I can tell this is going to escalate.

"Let's go, Meri. You're staying with me tonight," Milan says, moving his hand to take my trembling one from his shoulder. He squeezes my hand reassuringly, but I still can't relax. I won't be able to until we escape this house and Petre's presence.

"Excuse me, but you're not taking her anywhere."

"She's not under your jurisdiction yet, sir. So with all due respect, she can choose for herself."

"She can't. She still seventeen. Her birthday isn't for another four months, and so her mother has to give permission since she's still a minor." Petre said, smiling. His dark eyes settle heavily on me, and the glint of triumph.

I feel as though I'm being swallowed whole, sinking into darkness and drowning in it. There won't be an escape. He'll hurt Milan too if he doesn't leave. I try to tug my hand from Milan's, but he doesn't let go.

"Well, I'd like to speak with her mother please." Milan steps toward Petre, a threatening tone in his deep tenor voice.

I shiver, wanting to flee from the house and Petre. Why isn't Milan just leaving me to face him alone? He'd be safer if he did. Who are you kidding? Milan's already proven that he won't back down when confrontation comes.

"Unfortunately, her mother isn't in any condition to speak with you. She's too distraught over Meri's disappearance." Petre sighs and shrugs.

"In other words," Milan snaps. "She's drunk and hung-over."

"I think you need to leave," Petre says, the false smile falling off his face in a flash. "Without my girl."

"She's not an object, you idiot." Milan's grip on my hand tightens, and I can tell he's losing it.

I tug him back toward the back door. "I don't want to stay here," I whisper.

Petre's eyes snap back to me, and he glares. "What did you say?"

"I...I... I don't want to stay here," I stammer out, raising my voice so that he can hear me. "Milan, please. Let's go."

He doesn't need further urging. Before Petre has a chance to recuperate from his astonishment over my refusal to cooperate, Milan scoops me up into his arms and walks out of the back door, slamming it behind him. Despite his anger, his grip is gentle. I squeak in surprise as it registers that he's carrying me, and I bury my face in his shoulder, embarrassment washing over me.

The back door squeaks open, and I hear Petre's angry voice following us. "I'm going to call the cops!" he shouts.

"Yeah, go ahead! I'm sure they'll have a thing or two to say about molesting minors and abusive home life," Milan shouts back as he places me in the passenger's side and goes back around.

Petre goes silent, and I think we've won until I see him approaching Milan. Before I know it, Milan's being slammed against the side of the car. I struggle not to cry as I unbuckle and get back out. If he's going to hurt Milan, then I have to go with him, no matter what Petre does to me for my rebellion. I can't let him hurt someone else for my sins.

"Stop!" I scream, shocking both of them and myself with the strength in my voice.

Milan takes the advantage and swings his fist into Petre's gut followed by a knee to the chest. Petre, despite his bigger size, is taken off guard and falls back on the snow. Milan gets into the driver's side and calls out to me, "Meri, get in before he gets up."

I obey, stunned.

He pulls out of the driveway quickly, leaving Petre in our wake, still on the ground.

Tearfully, I ask, "Did you kill him?"

"No. He'll have one heck of a bloody nose and bruises though. Deserves a whole lot more than that," he says, gritting his teeth.

I swallow hard and sink down into the seat, crying quietly. Between the tears, I manage to say, "I'm so sorry. I never meant to involve you in any of that."

"If I'd left you with him, he'd have finished what those boys were planning earlier." He doesn't ask, he just states it as though he knows exactly what I do.

I hang my head, ashamed.

"And your mother would've let him, wouldn't she?" he asked.

"My mom wouldn't have known. He's careful not to go too far when she's around, and this was just an unlucky encounter. Usually he's not around when my mom's drunk or I'm by myself. He's one that I never let in even if I knew my mom would be mad when she heard about it."

"He should be rotting in a jail cell for the way he treats you. Does he hit your mom too?"

"No. Just..."

"Just you?" he murmurs.

I nod, cheeks flaming. Closing my eyes, I let the tears fall. I hate myself for involving him. For allowing Petre to split his lip and give him a bloody nose. Milan ignores the split lip, and he pinches his nose with one hand while steering us into a random driveway. Thankfully, no one seems to be home.

"Hand me a tissue, please?" he asks.

I fish through the glove compartment for one and hand it to him. "Here, let me."

He allows me to wipe the blood from his face, and then he takes the tissues from me and uses them to stop the bleeding. When that's stopped, he uses the last of them to wipe away my tears and lets me blow my nose.

"You have nothing to apologize for. But you aren't going back there with that monster in the house," he says vehemently.

I wince and look away. "I have to go back."

"No, you don't. You'll say with us, and we'll get your mom help. We'll get him out of your life too. As soon as we get home, we'll tell my mom what happened and ask her to phone the cops." He takes my hands in his with a sigh. "But Meri, you have to be willing to testify or they won't - no, can't - do anything."

To get Petre out of my life, I'd testify. But would it hurt my mom? If Petre was telling the truth, she'd chosen to marry him. That meant something. My mom never sticks with anyone as long as she's stuck with Petre. I've seen how much she adores him. It's sickening since he's nothing like what she sees, but I know it'll hurt her. "It's going to hurt my mom," I whisper. "And what if they lock her up too instead of getting her help? I don't want her in prison. I just want her to get help."

"Well, the fact that you're admitting that you can't help her is a start," he murmurs.

"I just don't know what to do anymore!" I burst out. "Nothing I do helps. Nothing. It doesn't matter whether I'm good or bad. Nothing's good enough. She's still drinking. The only difference is that she does drugs if I'm being particularly bothersome."

"Meri, it isn't you driving her to drugs or alcohol. I'm sure she's addicted to both, and she can't help it."

"No, it's my fault. She quits for a while and just drinks if I'm doing a good job of behaving and being a model child. Otherwise, she goes back." I look out the window as he pulls out of the driveway.

"None of this is your fault," he insists.

"Yes, it is. She said it was. The day everything changed, she said it was my fault. That if I hadn't been left on her doorstep, she wouldn't be in this situation."

"You mean... She isn't even your real mother?" Milan asks, surprise flickering over his face.

I shake my head and wrap my arms around myself. "No. But my real mom left me when I was just a baby. See... She knew I was worthless. That's why she left too."

His jaw tightens, and his lips press together tightly. "You aren't worthless. You're anything but that. You're smart, beautiful, funny, and way kinder than I thought anyone could be. You forgive people no matter what they do to you, and you love others no matter how badly they hurt you. I wish I was like that."

I stare at him, as surprised as he was moments ago. "But... But... I'm not any of those things. You're all of them. I... I've spent my whole life wishing I could be those things so that my mom would get better and love me again. But I can't seem to make it."

"You're you, Meri, and that's just fine. There's no such thing as a perfect human being, but you're one of the kindest souls I've ever known. No one, much less someone as sweet and good as you, deserves to be treated like an animal," Milan says after a few moments.

We pull into his driveway, and I get out when he parks. He follows me to the doorstep, and when we reach the door, I turn to face him. "I wish with all my heart that I believed you. I want to so bad... But how can I when everything around me says that you're lying? How can I when everyone in my life so far has told me I'm worthless?" I ask, breathless.

Milan smiles sadly down at me. "They were the ones lying," he says before opening the door and ushering me in. "You'll see it someday. I promise."