After Chuck came home, Bambi started going to AA meetings. She would only go in the mornings because she was afraid to leave Chuck and me alone at night. “While the cat’s away the mice will play,” she’d say, narrowing her eyes at me. “And I don’t intend to let any little mice play with what’s mine.”

I rolled my eyes and Bambi reached for her pack of Marlboros, her face red and her hands shaking. She smacked the bottom of the pack hard and stuck a cigarette into her mouth backward. Chuck laughed out loud at the sight. Bambi’s face turned an even darker shade of red. She ripped the cigarette from her lips. “Guess I’m just a big fat joke to you!”

“Don’t get it twisted, Baby.” Chuck pulled her onto his lap and kissed the side of her neck. “Lighten up.”

Bambi perched on Chuck’s lap like a prized parrot. She was smug, like she’d won her man back or something. She lit her cigarette and glared at me as if it were my fault that she was all mixed up. That she was unraveling. I glared right back at her. Who did she think she was?

I hated her for the way she treated me, the way she always kept her beady eyes on me as if I were a predator stalking her mate. No matter how many times Chuck reassured her there was nothing going on between us, she still believed our relationship was something more, something ugly.

Bambi would never understand that Chuck was the only person I’d ever trusted, the closest thing to a dad I ever had. The section of my brain that stored all of my memories was void in the area of my real father—he appeared only in my nightmares. That hollow, empty space was now filled with stories of Russia, lessons about the stars, laughter, encouragement, and love. Chuck was my father now.

For a short time, while Bambi was sober—we were happy. Bambi knew I had brought Chuck back to her and even though she didn’t show it, she was grateful. This gave me leverage, a foot in the door, because I was the glue that held Chuck there. Bambi never called Family Services, but she never took her eyes off of me either. It was like walking on glass. I couldn’t laugh at Chuck’s jokes. I couldn’t wear shorts or tank-tops without Bambi making some kind of cutting remark. No longer did he read Chekov to me at night or tell me tales of Russia. Those moments—those stories—were vital to me. It was like missing an arm, or a leg. Bambi had severed them, taken them away all because she was jealous and selfish.

One Sunday Bambi stayed in her nightgown long after breakfast. Chuck glanced at the time on his cell phone. “You better get moving or you’re gonna be late for church.”

She leaned back on the couch, looked at me, and smiled. She reached for her cigarettes on the end table and selected one from the pack. “I’ve made a decision. I’m going to be doing my worshiping from home for now on.” She reached for Chuck’s leg and gave it a squeeze, glaring at me the whole time. “Give you and I more time together.”

I looked away, I didn’t want her to have the satisfaction of seeing the disappointment on my face. Bambi even stopped gambling or going to the salon to get her nails done or even to the grocery store. She spent every single second lurking around Chuck. I had to fight for every minute alone with him. It was like a competition between us to see who could spend the most time with him—and she was winning.

I couldn’t understand it. I was no threat to her. But still, her eyes trailed me everywhere, her gaze raw and suffocating. I spent my evenings alone on the back porch listening to music and enjoying the cool summer air, wishing she’d somehow just disappear.

One night, a star darted across the ebony sky, sizzling in a spectacular arch until finally swallowed by darkness. I longed to share this moment with Chuck, to hear him explain the death of stars. I already knew all the answers, but I loved to hear the soothing sound of his voice as he pointed to different quadrants of the sky. But if Chuck came outside to join me, so would Bambi. She’d flirt and act like a fool until she had all of his attention.

Later that evening, I sat waiting for Bambi to go to her AA meeting in town. She usually went in the morning but she’d missed it because she slept in. It was only an hour but it was the only time I’d have alone with Chuck and I looked forward to it. I leaned back in my chair on the porch, searching the sky for more shooting stars when I heard Chuck shouting at Bambi.

“What do you mean you’re not going to your meeting? You promised me if I came back you’d go.”

“Look honey, they’re not gonna miss me for one night. What are you having such a fit for? I thought you liked spending time with me. Guess I was wrong.” Bambi whimpered in her best baby voice.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Oh really?” Bambi shrieked. “Maybe you just want some time alone with….”

“Don’t.” Chuck shouted. “Don’t you dare say another word.”

The screen door opened and banged shut. Chuck stood beside me on the porch, lighting a cigarette. “Wanna go with me to the Quick Mart? I’ll buy you a soda. I need to cool off.”

“No thanks,” I said, my voice dropping. I knew better than to say yes no matter how bad I wanted to go. If we went anywhere alone, Bambi would freak out.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, spotting Bambi standing in the shadows of the doorway behind him, glaring at me. “No, you go ahead. I’m not feeling that great.” I got to my feet and pushed past Bambi into the house.

“Hey! Watch it missy. Don’t you have any manners?”

I stood in the hallway with my back turned to her. I clenched my teeth to keep from hurling words at her like stones. I could hardly contain the resentment boiling inside of me. For a terrible instant, I pictured the deadly nightshade blooming outside of the trailer. Maybe I could crush it up, put it into the tomato juice Bambi used to make her Bloody Marys. Get rid of her so Chuck and I could finally live in peace.

I passed a picture of Jesus hanging in the hallway, his soft brown eyes staring into mine. I looked away, ashamed. I couldn’t murder anyone. Who was I kidding?

Curled up in the safety of my bed, I closed my eyes, blocking out everything.

Footsteps shuffled outside my bedroom door.

“Why did you ask her to go to the store and not me?” Bambi screeched.

“Lower your voice,” Chuck said.

“Don’t you tell me what to do in my own house.”

My head ached, even with the door shut Bambi’s shrew-like voice pierced my eardrums. I smothered a pillow over my head. I was sick of all the fighting, all the conflict and tension in the house. Angry comments and snarling replies hammered their way into my bedroom, battering at my fragile control and sawing into my last nerve. I closed my eyes tighter, blocking out the noise and fought to steady my erratic pulse.

I woke up from a nightmare I couldn’t remember, screaming, limbs quivering, my nightgown twisted around my body. The door to my room flung open and light from the hallway streamed in, burned my eyes. Chuck was suddenly there, gathering me into his arms.

“What’s the matter, kid?” He hugged me to him. “It’s just a dream. You’re safe now.”

Coughing, I buried my face in his chest, my lungs relaxing as I inhaled his scent: motor oil, beer, and something cedar. I held on tight—he was my anchor, my only foothold, the safety of a forest floor in which I took refuge.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I sobbed. “I was dreaming and...” I couldn’t stop blubbering.

Chuck rocked me back and forth in his arms. I felt stupid for crying, but it felt good to be held. To be in the safety of his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of my head and released me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a dark figure lurking in the hallway. Bambi stood watching, lips pressed into a thin line of hate. Her face was bloated and pale, her unwashed hair hung in greasy knots. A half empty bottle of rum dangled from her hand.

I glanced at the alarm clock beside my bed—3:30 a.m. What was Bambi still doing up? Was she angry because I woke her?

“Sinners!” Bambi hissed. She staggered forward. “Finally—I caught you!”

“What are you talking about?” Chuck jumped to his feet. “Are you drunk again? Can’t you see she was having a bad dream and--”

“You like playing with little girls, don’t you? You disgusting pervert!”

“That’s it!” Chuck growled. “That’s the last straw.”

He stormed from my room, turning over my nightstand on his way out. Moments later, I heard the roll of closet doors thundering open in Bambi’s bedroom and the clunk of dresser drawers.

My heart froze. Chuck was leaving—packing all of his things. Moments later, he returned and handed me an envelope. “I need to give you something before I go. It took me awhile, but I managed to get everything arranged.” Chuck glanced over his shoulder. “This is very important so listen close. Don’t let anyone know you have this. Just follow the instructions. I have to go now before it’s too late. Good luck, honey.”

“No, wait!” I cried. “I’ll go with you!” I climbed out of bed.

“I can’t take you with me, kid. Wish I could. There’s things about me you don’t know. I couldn’t help my own daughter, but I wanted to help you. Take the letter, get out of here, and don’t look back.” Chuck gave me a quick hug. “Good luck.”

Bambi sprang out of nowhere, jumping on his back, clawing at his face. “How dare you!” she shrieked.

Chuck threw her off, but she sprang again, grabbing onto the back of his shirt. He slapped her hard and Bambi fell back, her nightgown wrapping around her body, forming a straight jacket. Bambi wailed like a skinned cat and Chuck stormed out. The front door slammed so hard it rattled in its frame.

I scrambled for my clothes, slipping them on fast as Bambi got to her feet and rushed out of my bedroom. I thought she was chasing after Chuck, but moments later, she returned with a shotgun, waving it at my chest.

“I should kill you!” she screamed.

I stared at the cold, hard steel. Images of my mother flashed before me, bullets ripping through her tender flesh as she cradled me in her arms.

But there was no one to shield me now. Bambi pumped the shotgun and aimed it at my head.

I closed my eyes and waited to die.