JADE POV.

*****

He was drunk again. Heavy footsteps thudded up the stair and I cowered in the dark closet, my hand clenching harder on the kitchen knife I held. Sweat beaded, then trickled down the side of my face. My stomach grumbled in protest, as it should have since I hadn't eaten for two whole days. He was the one who fed us, but I hated him showing up. It was much quieter when he wasn't around. But it also meant no food to eat for days, except if mother met a new customer. 

I wet my patched lips, my ears pressed against the wall. They were fighting again,...