Page 144 of The Other Side

“Fuck!” Daddy shouts.

My lip quivers when I catch his sadistic smirk. I hear the rumble of his mocking laugh, and those onyx eyes challenge me. They dare me to test him. To provoke him just so he can unleash the inevitable punishment.

And that’s when I see it.

A hummingbird lands on his shoulder, the metallic feathers fluttering. Daddy’s head turns, brows dipped as he stares down the tiny creature. His sardonic demeanor is thrown, and he tries to nudge it off.

But the bird’s feet remain glued. It’s there to stay.

There to win.

Daddy’s attention drags to me, his expression unfamiliar. Foreign. There’s a single glint in his eyes that softens, and that manipulative smirk flatlines just enough.

Just enough to show me the father he could’ve been. The parent he should’ve been. And that’s when I realize…

Love will always win.

I gulp, my glassy eyes staring into Daddy’s. “You will never hurt me again,” I whisper.

Daddy’s chin gently tilts up, and he inhales when we lock eyes. That hummingbird casts a serene umbrella over the yard, paralyzing us in place.

Neither of us move, and my stare sinks into his the way it never could. The energy shifts, and I’m not sure if I should trust it.

I gasp, frightened that he’s going to sprint toward me. That he’s going to unravel his belt and whip my body with it. That he’s going to strike my cheek with the back of his hand or touch me between my legs.

But it’s none of those things he does.

For the first time in my entire life, Daddy doesn’t use his hands to speak to me.

Instead, his throat rolls right before he nods. In acceptance.

His mirage dissolves, and the hummingbird remains perched on the hanging flower pot.

My brows lift as I sigh a breath out. I reach for my shirt, stationing a palm on the center of my chest and clutching at the cotton. My lips fold, and my body replenishes with the courage that began to dwindle at the start of this conversation.

I dip my attention between me and Jesse, nudging the velvet boxes closer to him. Until he finally plucks them from my hand.

“I’m going to spend tonight clearing out my things,” I say. “I might have to spend the night here, but it will be in the spare bedroom or the couch.”

I lift my gaze to his, shoveling up the words I never got the chance to say when Daddy was alive. When I was just a kid. Just a teenager held hostage at her daddy’s cruel abuse.

And I decide that this isn’t for me. It’s for her.

This one’s for you.

“And you will not lay a hand on me,” I assert, jaw set. “Do I make myself clear?”

His chest inflates as he slightly tips his chin up. “I guess so.”

“Do I make myself clear?” I repeat.

He gulps. “Yes.”

I walk around Jesse to enter the house, knowing I’ll be able to chase all the dreams I ever had on the other side.

Finally.

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