Fury blazes again, and I move to smash his face in. Mom blocks me, hands to my chest, pushing me back.

“Please, baby, no!” she cries. “Don’t be like this!”

“How the f**k else am I supposed to be?” I yell, powerless and hating it. I can’t believe she’s defending him, this worthless piece of garbage.

That she’s choosing him. Over us.

Mom doesn’t speak. She helps Artie to the door.

Leaving.

Pain splinters through me, so sharp I can hardly breathe. “What am I supposed to tell Brit?” I demand. “Or Ray Jay? What about them? They’re still just kids!”

Mom turns back with a sob. “I’m sorry, but I can’t… I just can’t. Staying here, letting you all down. I can’t do it anymore. It’s for the best, you have to see that.”

“Don’t worry, kid.” Artie sneers at me. “I’ll take real good care of her.”

I snap. I let out a roar and charge right at him. I bend low and tackle, head butting into his torso as we fall out of the front door and down the front steps. I roll on top of him, and unleash it all, raining down blows on his face, his neck. Pounding. Furious. Mom’s screams blur into the background. My knuckles smash against his skin, tearing it back to the bone. Artie gurgles, choking on his own blood. I can’t stop. All I want is to end him, to break this hold he has over her, to keep her from walking away.

“Emerson!” Another voice screams. “Emerson, stop! You’re killing him!”

Two arms reach around me. I struggle, but the fight is leaving me now.

“Please,” I hear them beg me. Through my haze, I recognize the voice. Juliet. “Please don’t do this.”

Artie lays there, groaning, eyelids flickering. A shell of a man. A f**king parasite. I could kill him, right now.

But what would that make me?

I stop.

Juliet pulls me off him. I fall to my hands and knees on the grass, gasping. She sits beside me, pulls my head into her lap. I don’t move. All my rage is gone now, leaving nothing but despair.

She’s finally leaving.

“It’s OK,” Juliet murmurs, stroking my hair. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

I don’t answer. I don’t look to see mom take Artie over to the car. I lay there, crumpled, empty, listening to the sound of her going back to the house, getting her things, closing the car door behind her. The engine starts.

“Emerson?” Juliet’s voice is shaking.

“Let her go.” I manage. “She wants to go.”

I lay there in Juliet’s arms, listening to mom drive away. It should be a relief, after all the midnight whispering me and Brit have done, but instead, it just feels like betrayal. Like a dark cloud, blotting everything good from the sky.

She left. They all leave, in the end.

My pain hardens in my chest. I know now what I have to do.

I sit up, and take a shuddering breath. Bracing myself.

“I told you to stay in the truck.”

“Emerson…” Juliet’s staring at me, wary.

I get to my feet. I hate that she’s seen me like this, but maybe it’ll help. She’ll know exactly the mess she’s escaping, have no time for regret. “Come on.” I barely look at her. “I’ll take you home now.”

“I can stay. You need…. you need to talk about what just happened.”

“No.” My voice spits it, harsh. “I want to be alone. I need to talk to Brit, and find Ray Jay.. it’s family stuff, OK?”

I start for the truck without looking at her, sit up in the driver’s seat until she climbs in. I stare at my knuckles: raw and covered with blood. His or mine, I don’t know. I don’t care.

I wait until she’s buckled in, then I start the engine.

“Wait a minute,” Juliet says. She reaches out and puts her hand on my arm, soft. Soothing. “You’re hurt, let me bandage up your hand—“

“No!” It comes out a roar. “You shouldn’t be here. This is none of your f**king business, so just let me take you home, OK?!”

I hear her soft intake of breath, but I can’t bear to look and see the hurt on her face. I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead, all the way back to her house. I pull up in the driveway, and wait for her to get down.

“Emerson. Emerson, look at me!” Juliet yanks my arm and forces me around. She bites her lip, eyes wide and full of such tender sympathy I almost break, but I can’t. This is for the best.

“Go.”

“Not until I know when I’m seeing you again,” she insists. “I can come over later tonight.”

“No.”

“Tomorrow then.” Her jaw is set. Firm.

Frustration boils up in me, edged with guilt and shame. Why can’t she be like the other girls: easy to walk away from? Why does she have to be stubborn, and strong, and look at me like she actually gives a damn?

“Don’t you get it, Jules?” I demand. “I can’t do this. Be with you. You saw what happened back there!”

“Bullshit.”

Her answer shocks me. Juliet’s eyes flare, determined. “You don’t get to push me away because of your f**ked up family. I know what it’s like, remember? I can help you. Let me be there for you, it’s what girlfriend’s are supposed to do!”

“Girlfriend?” I give a hollow laugh. “So, what, we go steady for a couple of months? I take you out on dates and kiss you goodnight on the front porch?”