"You're— you're sick," I said, refusing to believe that Kevin wasn't just attempting to hurt me. "That's a sick joke."

"It's not a joke," he lowered his voice, it even seemed as though he felt like he'd said too much. But it was too late now. "I had a brief affair a few months before Cassandra and I were going to be married. Her name was Emory Melrose. She didn't like the fact that I wouldn't call off the wedding so she disappeared and I didn't hear from her for some time."

My throat felt thick while I listened to my father recounting a time that was obviously difficult for him to think about. His tone was distant and his gaze was unfocused. This might have been the longest conversation that we'd had, ever.

"She resurfaced a few months after the wedding and she was pregnant. Five and a half months or so. I don't know. I told her that I didn't want her, or her child or a future with her, she was pissed but I agreed to financially support her— pending she could prove that I was the father through DNA— that was it. Anyway, less than a year later, I got a phone call from child protective services. They had me listed as the father through financial and paternal records and told me that proceedings were in place to have me take guardianship because Emory was dead. She killed herself when you were two months old."

Out of body experiences are not just an overused expression. I was having one while I absorbed the news. News that should have twisted my stomach into a knot and shredded my heart into pieces. Surely it would catch up with me, surely I would start to feel the weight of his words. But right now, I felt numb.

"Obviously Cassandra found out. I had to tell her the entire truth and I know that I broke her. She couldn't have her own children. We had talked about surrogacy or adoption but I wasn't fussed. I never wanted kids. Anyway, I told CPS to find you alternative care and they came back a while later to tell me that no one wanted the full time responsibility. It'd been a few months so Cassandra had, had some time to recover from the news of my affair, she said that she didn't want to walk without giving us a chance to get through it but as soon as she heard that you were going to be placed in foster care, she went straight to CPS.

"She told me that we needed to take you in. That you didn't deserve to suffer for my indiscretions. She said that we'd never talk about the affair again and we'd be a family. That was her chance to raise a child and it was your chance for a fresh start. Those were her words. She loved you and she never let me forget it."

Slowly, so that I didn't spin out, I stood and looked at him, a man who I thought couldn't be more of a coward. I was wrong.

"That just makes me love her more," I said, feeling tears sliding down my cheeks, my voice trembling. Hit after hit and you'd think I'd be used to hearing devastating news. "She had no reason to love me. I would have been a reminder of the worst thing you ever did to her and she never ever showed it. She loved me and I lost the only family that ever chose me."

An arm went around my shoulder and I felt Brecken pull me into his side, which was a blessing because I could barely hold my own weight. Kevin looked at him but did nothing apart from lower himself into his chair.

"And now it all makes sense," I nodded, blubbering and barely coherent. "I remind you of the worst thing you ever did. And you never let me forget that."

"Yes well—"

"Why did she kill her self?!"

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, jaw clenched and fluttering. "I don't know why she did it. I don't know how she did it. I don't know if she had parents or siblings. I didn't want the details."

"The less you know, the less guilt to burden, right?"

Brecken was holding me tight but it wasn't enough to keep me from feeling as though I was shattering. Shattering into irreparable fragments of my already broken parts.

"I want her details!" I screamed and swung out at the lamp sitting on his desk. It flew onto the floor and shattered, the sound somewhat satisfying. So I clutched his crystal bottle of scotch and threw it at him, but he ducked to the side and it exploded on the wall behind him. "I want to know where she's buried and wh—"

Before I could keep on breaking things, Brecken began to drag me out of the office and it was futile to fight him, but I tried. I tried because it felt like the only thing that could match the internal destruction that was going on within me, was to destroy every single thing that Kevin considered precious. His precious office filled with expensive material items that meant more to him than the life of his own daughter and her mothers.

"I hate you!" I screamed, not able to see when Breck scooped me up and my face pressed into his chest. "I hate him."

White air billowed above me, created a cloud on the canvas of the black sky and dissipated again, but it was soon followed by another breath, another white cloud of cold. Because I was still breathing. Somehow. Somehow the world could spin so fast that it would knock me over, wrap its hand around my throat, choke hold me without wavering and I continued to breathe. It's amazing what the human heart can endure.

Brecken lay beside me among the headstones, names inscribed on the cement, reminding us of all the people that aren't breathing. The people that lost their fight with life. I might have been breathing, but it was hard not to feel as if I wasn't six feet under right now. I blinked and felt a warm tear roll down my cold cheek. I wasn't sure how long we'd been here but it was dark and quiet.

"She might not be in this cemetery," Brecken said, his voice sounded tight, like he was cold, I felt bad but I'd told him that he could leave. He chose not to.

"Thanks Captain obvious," I muttered, swiping at my face with a trembling hand. "I don't know how else to visit her."

He didn't respond.

"Cassandra was my mother. Nothing changes that. But this woman, she— I don't know— wasn't I enough?"

"Sometimes people just don't know how to keep living, Bea. She could have been going through anything. She might have had severe depression or—"

"She lost her fight," I nodded and sat up, my limbs were stiff, my nose stung and I watched as Breck sit up beside me, his hood up. "She couldn't keep breathing."

There was a light pinch in his brow, like he wasn't quite sure what I meant, but he nodded and pulled his knee up, resting an elbow on it.

"I knew that mom was a good woman but this— this just makes me hurt so fucking bad for her. She deserved so much better, Brecken." I cried again. "She deserved so much better than Kevin. She deserved more than the decay of her own mind. She loved someone who came into existence through betrayal. She could have hated me."

He nodded, a small smile among his thick black stubble. "She was a good woman."

"She was an angel."

Brecken started to stand up, he dusted off his jeans, which were damp from the cold wet ground and offered me his hand. "Can we start walking back to the car. My balls are fucking gone. Searching for somewhere warm."

I nodded and let him help me up. It concerned me that I wasn't colder, my legs were bare and I had a blazer on over top of a blouse. Not much else seemed important right now. Not the way my expensive heels sunk into the soft grass, not the fact that I must have had make up smeared down the length of my face, not the fact that physical pain wasn't even a factor to consider right now. It should have been. But my chest had a gaping hole in it that was worse than the near frozen state of my legs.

We left the cemetery and started walking along the footpath, cars passed, the dull sound of engines and their tires on the wet road, the hum of electronic store signs and low chatter of restaurant occupants as we passed establishments filled the air. We walked for a long time, Brecken kept his hands in his pockets and his hood up, I kept my arms folded and watched the world as it continued to move and I stood still.

"So what's the deal with Dyl?" Brecken asked as we wandered through a park in between apartment buildings and boutiques. "You haven't talked in a while, huh?"

"I guess I'm trying to figure out if I really love him, or if I just think I love him because I'm so dependant on him."

"What's it been, a few weeks? So, do you still love him?"

"Yes," I didn't even hesitate. There'd be no point in denying it. "Of course I love him, dumbass."

"You just said you were figuring out if it's love or dependency?"

"I am."

"I'm confused."

I sighed. "Breck, there are just some things that you couldn't understand. And one of them is my mind. Because I don't even understand it most of the time."

He inhaled a deep breath and pierced me with a narrow stare. "Idiots." He rubbed his hands together, blew on them and slipped them back into his pocket. "So, you're going to have a little sister."

"Yeah."

"You should call Dylan. Tell him about it. Let him be there. Stop wasting time and be with the kid."

"This is the problem. I call him whenever I'm upset. Whenever the littlest thing goes on, I run to him and I can't treat him like a crutch. I need to feel healthy alone. That's when I know I'll be ready for him."

"I think that's true," Brecken's voice rose a little. "It's true. People should learn how to be content alone before they depend on someone else. You're right. But Bea, this isn't a little situation. This is big. This is fucking life shattering and there's not a damn thing wrong with leaning on someone when your life is falling to bits. Everyone should have that person in their life. And the only reason it might have been wrong before, was because of Charlie. But she's gone now. And he wants you."

My heart sped up and I swallowed as I stared out in front of me, focusing on the twinkling lights in the tree branches, the park benches, the panels of light built into the footpath to illuminate our walk. "I did like you in high school. I liked you until I found out that Dylan liked you first.

"He could tell that I did too and told me that it would kill him to watch us be together— on the chance that I won you over— so I stepped off and made it so that you'd find me repulsive. I knew your character and I knew that you would never date someone as arrogant as I used to behave."

All of the news was more than I could seem to process. "Why didn't he tell me?"

He shrugged and we were careful on the slick footpath that elevated into a long, low bridge that crossed a shallow frozen pond. "Not sure. Something about you putting him in the friendzone and not wanting to lose you. I think he figured you'd be available at some point and shit just got to the point of no return. He really thought you wouldn't ever see him as more than a pal you could lean on. I knew different."

For the first time tonight, the ice cold wind whipped out and slid under my skin, tingling and painful. It was time to stop taking time for granted. I'd lost too much of it as it was. We wandered over the bridge, passing couples and groups of friends who were watching the ice glisten while skaters glided and sliced the surface. Leaning on the steel railing, was a couple, mid twenties, wrapped in coats, beanies and scarves. I smiled at the man who had his arm around her shoulder, his head leaning into hers.

But as we got closer, I noticed that he had a tight grip on her shoulder and his expression was contorted in anger. The closer that we came, the more I could hear of his harsh voice. "You said you'd stop bringing it up and you fucking won't shut the fuck up about it. I'm sick of your fucking mental health issues coming back on me. It's not my fault you're paranoid all the fucking time. Get a therapist and fix your shit before I walk."

Brecken scowled and he might have done something if he'd had the chance. But he didn't get one because I didn't care about the context of this situation, I walked straight toward him, bent down, gripped his ankle with two hands and lifted so fast that he didn't have the chance to brace himself and he went over the bridge, landing two meters below.

His girlfriend gasped and looked over, her mouth hanging open. She was cute, Korean perhaps with shoulder length waves and a little nose. If she was concerned, she didn't express it, I took that to be a good sign, or a bad one. Instead, she looked at me and smiled but it was brief and fleeting because her douche of a dude started shouting like a total maniac. He stood up, slipped over and stood up again.

"You bitch," he spat, staring up at us as he hobbled. He couldn't put weight on his foot and I wondered if he'd broken his ankle. "You fucking broke my leg."

He fell over again and I laughed so hard that I almost lost my own footing.

"Nel," he sat down on the ice and I noticed a number of people were now watching, Brecken stood behind me, peering over and I could feel him laughing, see it as his air billowed past me. "Nel, fucking help me. Bitch," he pointed at me. "You're a fucking mutt. I'm goin—"

"To do jack shit bud," Brecken picked up a handful of snow and shook it out so that it sprinkled over douche like his own personal snow fall. "Even if you could stand up, you're not touching her. Someone might decide to help though. Good luck."

I turned around and looked at Nel who was still blinking down at her boyfriend or husband in disbelief. She met my eyes and I held her shoulder. "One moment can change the entire course of your life." She swallowed, listening. "Is he your husband?" She shook her head. "Kids together?" She shook her head. "Live together?" She nodded and I exhaled. "Go home, pack up and leave. Leave before it gets worse, before kids come into the equation and become another generation of traumatised witnesses to the abuse of their mother. Leave before he can ever do this again." I reached out and swept her hair back from her forehead, skimming across a purple bruise.

"Do you need help?" Brecken stepped closer to her and looked down. "Help moving, hiding?"

Douche was still screaming from the ice but when I peeped down, he had a small crowd surrounding him and two officers who were watching me while a middle aged man pointed in our direction. Fuck.

Nel cleared her throat. "I have a dad," she said, her accent thick but her English was clear. "My dad will look after me. My brother too."

She threw her arms around me and squeezed so hard that for just a moment, I wasn't in agonising pain. I'd done something good for someone else, although admittedly, in the beginning, throwing that son of a bitch off a bridge had been to satisfy my own rage. But this girls hug of gratitude made it all worth while. Even when a set of hands pried us apart and an officer began to read me my rights.

"What are you arresting her for?!" Brecken stepped closer and watched my arms being pinned behind my back. "That prick down there is the one hurting his girlfriend, arrest him!"

"The lady here was confirmed to have thrown him over the bridge by multiple witnesses, sir. She's under arrest for assault at the moment," he said, gripping my shoulder. "If the other woman wants to make a statement about—"

"I'll talk to her," the female officer said from beside me. She headed toward Nel and lead her away from the crowd, which was a relief, knowing that she might have the support of the law on her side.

"Bea," Brecken sounded distressed as I was pushed forward and made to walk.

"Don't stress. I've done this before."

"Oh great," he followed along. "So you're a repeat offender. That's going to go well for you."

"The first time was just a practice run. I feel super prepared for this. I didn't choose the thug life, the thug life chose me. Besides, What else do I have to do tonight, you know?"

"Bea! Shut up. This isn't a joke!"

"Since when do you take everything so seriously? Relax, sheesh. But in case I end up in the big house, with a tattoo on my face and a rep for shanking bitches, tell Dylan that I love him and uh we belong together, but tell him like this," I cleared my throat and sang in tune to Pat Benatar. "We belong, we belon—"

"Do you hear how unstable she is?" Brecken pleaded with the officer as we approached a cruiser that was parked at the edge of the park. A street light shone down and coloured the white roof top a dust orange and the windows had clouded over with condensation. "She's fucked up, sir. Her mom just died and it turns out that it wasn't even her birth mom but her birth mom is dead too and her dad knocked up a girl the same age as her and now he wants nothing to do with either of his daught—"

"Please stop."

"Son," the officer said when we stopped beside the car. "She threw a man over a bridge and broke his leg. Unprovoked and not in self defence. She's going in."

"A bridge," Breck scoffed and threw his arms open. "It was a raised platform at the most. Don't be dramatic."

"She's under arrest."