Free Trinity (Moonstone Book 1) by Andi Bremner

him, seen him with my mom, on the floor of our living room. My mom had been furious when she’d spied me hovering by the door and had started to yell at me to go when he had intervened. He’d stood up and come over and knelt down in front of me, offering his hand. He introduced himself as my mom’s friend Kent, but I knew he was my father. My mother told me that he was my father anyhow, not that that was necessarily true. It might be that she didn’t actually know who my father was.
    It didn’t matter. Even if he was my father he had never made any effort to get to know me and my mother had made sure I was never there again when he visited.
    “Well he said you are,” she stepped closer and I stiffened, my fingers curling around the strap of my bag, “and I believe him. You’ve always set to ruin things between us, right from the very beginning.”
    And then there it was. I didn’t see it coming or I would have ducked out of the way, but her hand hit me straight across the head, the force knocking me backwards. My feet slid out from underneath me and I landed with a thump on my backside, my head flinging back and hitting the edge of the coffee table.
    Pain shot through me and I cried out.
    A kick to my ribs had me doubling over and I choked as the wind was knocked out of me.
    “You are ruining my life!” my mother screamed and then she was gone, the sound of her bedroom door slamming reverberating throughout the house.
    I curled up on the living room floor, pain coursing through me and sobbed. She was getting worse. Normally after he left she was in a good mood, he’d made her promises he would never keep and she was high and happy. We were okay for a few weeks until she started to miss him. But this was the third time she had hit me this week and tonight, she had hit me hard.
    I had to get out of there.
    Managing to control my sobs I sat up, keeping one hand wrapped around my side which stung bad. Had I cracked a rib? I really hoped not as that would seriously hinder my performance with the band. I’d suffered broken ribs before and they took ages to heal. Sucking in a deep breath I touched my forehead where my head hit the coffee table. When I pulled them away blood stained my fingers. That wasn’t good.
    Pulling myself to standing I hobbled down the hall towards the bathroom, keeping one hand around my side and the other pressed to my forehead. My fingers were growing wet and sticky and I felt something warm on my cheek. Inside the bathroom I examined the wound to my head.
    There was a lot of blood and the gash was deep. Wetting a hand towel I pressed it over the cut and prayed that I wouldn’t need stitches but within seconds the flannel was soaked with blood. Blood was on my dress too, my nice dress I’d worn out with Luke. For some reason that made the tears sneak out the side of my eyes and traced down my cheek.
    Luke . The thought of him cut through me. If he could see me now.
    I threw the towel into the hamper and grabbed some toilet paper pressing it against my head again. It turned bright red straight away. Damn . I was going to have to go to the emergency.
    Quietly I walked back to the living room. Her bedroom door was shut and there was no sound coming from beyond. She was probably passed out on the bed. Collecting my bag and keys off the floor I left, shutting the door carefully behind me and making my way down the path the car.
    Driving slowly and carefully through town I drove to the hospital and parked before walking up to the well-lit emergency. I was familiar with the emergency department, had been a regular for years. I’d had broken bones, fractures, plus a few stitches in my time and yet not once had anyone questioned what had happened to me. They all believed my simple, bald-faced lies. Even as a ten year old no one questioned the broken arm or cracked ribs.
    The nurse at the counter gave me some forms to fill out and I took a seat. I had no insurance so I was just going to get them to