"I know, baby girl. I know." I cooed into Danielle's ear as I paced the bedroom. My eyes remained trained on Dalton, his arms folded over his face, a slight tension in his shoulders. He'd been stirred awake the minute Danni had started wailing an hour and a half ago. Being that I was surviving off fumes, it'd taken him nudging me with his elbow for me to wake and tend to our daughter. He made no attempt to try and console her. Though, in his defense, anytime he held her, the cry shifted into an ear piercing scream and she was thrust right back into my arms without hesitation. It'd gotten to a point where I'd had to quit my job, as I couldn't return after maternity leave due to Dalton refusing to pay for a babysitter or watch her.

"What's wrong with her?" he snapped now, sitting upright and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, burying his head in his hands. "Is it your breast milk or something? My mom mentioned that sometimes the shit you eat affects them."

I shook my head. "I don't breastfeed anymore, Dalton."

As much as I tried, my supply had become nonexistent. Mom thought it was stress, but I'd chalked it up as being an issue within me. It seemed I just wasn't good enough at or for anything anymore.

"Well, why won't she shut up?" he huffed angrily. "Can you shut her up?"

"Dalton." His name left me in a whimper. "This is your daughter not a dog."

He shot to his feet at the response. "My daughter? She screams bloody murder anytime I hold her! She doesn't do anything but shit, eat, and cry."

"That's what babies do."

He shook his head and before I could say a word he snatched the picture frame of the two of us at the Baby shower from where it sat in front of the lamp on our nightstand and chucked it at the wall across the room. Glass rained down on the floor as a cry escaped me and I stumbled back a few steps, cradling Danielle to my chest.

"I can't do this! I have work, Harley! I need sleep!" he shook his head and crossed the room, shoving passed me, and started to dress himself. "I can't fucking do this."

I wished I had the strength and confidence of Ashley, but in that moment, I felt like a small, weak, defenseless child. I turned my body in the opposite direction, uncertain of his what he was to do. I watched intently as he slipped into his jacket, and without as much as a glance back at us over his shoulder, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it shook on its hinges. I waited until I heard the engine of his truck roar to life and fade to sink to the ground with Danielle against me and bury my face against the back of her head, allowing tears to fall silently.

*

Mom kept her eyes on Danielle in the crib across the room, and once she was sure my daughter wasn't going to wake, she nudged me out of the room and gently shut the door, taking the baby monitor with us.

I rubbed the exhaustion from my eyes as I trailed along after my mother. She waited until we were out of hearing range to set the monitor down and cross her arms.

"I can't keep doing this Har. I have to be up and on a plane at six." she said it with a bitter edge to her voice, but her eyes were soft and full of pity. "Dalton has no business running away like a child. You're sleep deprived as well."

"But he works."

My mom snickered. "Honey, I raised you on my own while working thirteen hour shifts when you were born. That's no excuse."

I leaned over the back of the kitchen chair. "Mom, I haven't sleep in three days."

"I know." she touched a hand to my shoulder. "But I can't keep coming to your rescue, Har. I have a job. A job I have to be up bright and early for. I can't be spending nights driving clear across town."

"I know, I'm sorry." I whispered.

She shook her head. "Come back home. With you there, I can try and arrange times for you to sleep. Hell, I'm sure your dad would even watch Danni for a while if it meant you getting a couple hours of sleep."

The thought of packing up all of our stuff had never sounded so appealing, but my fear of what Dalton might to, and that small, wishful part of my heart that still held out for hope he'd change, kept me from doing so. My mom must have seen it on my face because she shook her head to herself. "Ashley? Lindsey? Have you asked them for help?"

Tears stung the back of my eyes at the mention of their names. "Dalton doesn't want them in the house."

"I don't give two shits what he wants." Mom snapped angrily. I stared in surprise. It'd been years since I heard my mother curse. "He doesn't want to help, then he doesn't have a say in those who do."

"I don't want. . . I don't want to argue with him, Mom."

Her eyes roamed me. "Has he hit you again?"

"No." I lied softly. "No, of course not. He promised it was a one time thing, Mom. It was."

As if it were trying to force itself to be known to my mother, the bruise under my left breast started to throb. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the pain.

"I told you when you were pregnant with Danielle that there should not be anything in this world more important that that beautiful little girl." She reminded. "But you are still so caught up in Dalton and his emotional manipulation, his head games, that you aren't seeing clearly, sweetheart."

I wrapped my arms around myself. "I love him, Mom."

"No, baby, you don't." she extended a hand and batted a stray, dirty, greasy strand of hair out of my eyes. "You're scared of him. You're in love with the idea of who you wanted him to be. Who you expected him to be. But that man that you think he is, or was, he never existed."

I brought the back of my hand to my mouth to cage a loud sob and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Harley, you need to think about what's best for Danni."

I sniffled, and through my tears, said, "I don't want her to have a broken family, Mom. I saw what it did to Ashley."

"You'd rather her have a selfish little boy who refuses to make her a bottle raise her? Maybe it's little things now, sweetie, like refusal to help with all the baby things because you're the mom. But it'll grow. It'll grow and grow until he's become a monster that she fears. Is that what you want?"

"He'd never hurt her, Mom."

She held my gaze. "Are you sure about that? Because her watching her mother, her only source of comfort right now slowly dwindle away into nothing isn't hurting her?"

"Mom." The word left me in a sob and she closed the small distance between us and hugged me, pressing her lips to the top of my head.

"You always have a home, do you understand me? You may choose to stay here now, but if there ever comes a time where you want to listen to everyone around you and not your head and heart, then my door is always open for you two, baby, okay? I love you. I love Danielle."

*

I was startled awake in the middle of the night by the front door slamming shut. I immediately glanced around the nursery, my eyes shooting to Danni sleeping soundly in her crib. I stood shakily, knowing better than to remain in here if I wanted my daughter to remain asleep. The minute I was in our bedroom, Dalton lifted his head and disgust entered his eyes.

"Do you even care about yourself anymore?" he questioned, discarding his jacket on the bed. "When was the last time you showered? Brushed your teeth? Eaten?"

I didn't answer. I knew there was no right response.

"You don't touch me anymore. When I try to touch you, you're too tired or the baby wakes up." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "What is this, Harley? Because it sure as hell isn't a relationship."

I didn't budge, and though my stomach churned and my heart felt as though it were breaking, I just stared straight ahead.

"Go shower and come to bed." He didn't look at me as he spat the order. "Stop just staring. Go."

I grabbed a change of clothes and locked myself in the bathroom, setting my shirt and shorts on the counter and starting the water. In the time it took me to fully undress and climb into the shower, something in me changed. The tears stopped flowing, my throat grew dry, my chest suddenly felt cold.

I stood under the water for a long time, not washing my hair or body. I just stared blankly at the tile on the wall opposite of me until the water turned cold. It was as I lowered myself into the tub, hugging my legs against my chest, that I realized with all the dirt, spit up, and grime the old me was being washed down that drain.