There were sounds of children at play coming from the house up the street. Mrs. Williams was sitting in her usual spot on the front porch, cigarette dangling from her crimson-painted lips, a beer bottle in her hand. Grubby children playing in front of her, ignoring her occasional demand that they stop fighting, knowing that she would never leave the porch, never carry through with the threats she issued.

Not understanding what was happening, she walked up the cracked concrete sidewalk, up the steps, avoiding the third one, which squeaked so loudly. Across the porch that needed painting so badly that most of the boards were beginning to splinter. The door was unlocked. Surprisingly. It was always locked. Especially after…if she had stood up for herself, left the house to avoid…punishment, it was always locked when she returned.

Her father…no…Frank…he wasn't her father, was he?…was sitting in the worn Barcolounger that he had saved for three years to buy. She could still remember the screaming that Helen had done when it was delivered.

"Hello, Casey."

"Hello…Frank."

"Fra…ah…yes. You've…found…your parents, haven't you?"

She nodded.

"You love them?"

"Very much. They love me very much. They were…devastated…when they were denied the right to raise me," she replied.

He nodded his balding head. "I can imagine. I always loved you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know," she replied softly.

"I should have…I should have protected you. Sent you to my mother's house permanently. I…she was a cruel woman, Casey. You have no idea how cruel she could be."

Casey couldn't hold back the sarcastic laugh that filled her throat. "Oh, I think I have a very good idea how cruel she could be."

The middle-aged man shook his head. "She abused you, yes. I know that she hurt you. Did you ever wonder why I never stood against her, even when she was beating you?"

She nodded slowly. "I thought it was because you didn't care."

"No, sweetie. It was because I was a coward. I couldn't take the pain."

"I don't understand," she said, her eyes full of confusion.

"Do you remember ever seeing me without at least a tee shirt on?"

She searched her memory. "No, now that you mention it, no. Why?"

Frank stood slowly, took off the tee shirt that covered his thin body.

She gasped. Scars, burns that looked like tiny circles covered his chest, his belly. "Wha…why…oh, god, Dad, what did she do to you?"

He pulled his shirt back on, motioned for her to sit down. Waited until she was settled on the worn, sagging couch. "Helen was never beautiful. Never even pretty. When she was young, however, her face was…interesting. Strong. Full of life. She was raised by her grandparents. Her mother was only fifteen when she was born. Out of wedlock of course. Something that her grandmother threw into Helen's face every day. No one knew who her father was. That information disappeared with her mother."

Casey shivered. Everything that Helen had suffered, she had re-directed toward the innocent child who had been adopted into their home. Had accused her adoptive daughter of being what she believed her mother was.

"Helen was never…friendly…either. She was quiet. Angry. Rebellious," Frank said, continuing his narrative. "And…easy. I don't think there was a boy in my class who hadn't…had…her. She used to go to the docks, and…well…she…she was a prostitute, Casey. She sold her body to the dockworkers, to sailors on the ships, for money. You see, once she turned fifteen, the age her mother had been when she had been born, her grandmother refused to…well, she was allowed to sleep in the house, but she paid for her own food, her own clothes."

"Oh, god," Casey murmured.

"She…your grandmother…Harris very rarely held her as a baby, as a small child. Helen never knew what love was. God help me, I didn't change that. I…I asked her out, only because I wanted…I was a virgin, you see, and I wanted…well, anyway, I tried to treat her kindly; took her to dinner, and then to a nice motel. No back seat. That…touched her. I guess she thought …hoped…that it meant that I loved her." He ran his hand over his face. "I don't know that I even liked her, not like that. I just wanted…Well, when I took her home, I walked her to the door. I had no intention of ever talking to her, seeing her again. When I didn’t call her, she confronted me at school. Offered something she hadn't given me…that night."

"A blowjob." She didn't know how she knew that. Somehow, that didn't seem to matter.

Frank nodded. "She took me behind the bleachers, and…oh god it was so amazing. Then she let me…take her…again. Two weeks later she told me she was pregnant. I didn’t know that she'd had gonorrhea. She was…sterile. My parents were mortified. Mom was so…disappointed. She never liked Helen. I think she knew exactly what was going on. But even in the mid 70's, there was no legal way for me to force her to prove that she was pregnant. We couldn't force her to have a pregnancy test. I have often wished that we could have. It would have saved me…you…so much pain."

"So, you married her."

"My father told me that it was just until the baby was born, to give the child a name. Then he was going to help me get a divorce. I was going to join the Navy, and that would have been the end of it."

"So what happened?" Casey was sitting forward on the sofa, unaware that Frank was sitting forward as well.

"She claimed to have had a miscarriage. A doctor who…that she had…serviced…told me that she had been…damaged …and wouldn't be able to have children. I felt so damned guilty!"

She smiled. "I can relate to that!"

He smiled at her. "Yes, I know. I don't know if I taught you that or not. If so, please forgive me."

"You have nothing to ask forgiveness for."

"That's not true," he said softly. "But thank you. You were always such a loving, giving child."

"Did you try to leave her?"

"Yes. I went to see an attorney straight from the doctor's office. When I got back to the apartment where we lived, she was waiting. She had followed me, then went home. Planned her…revenge."

"That was the first time she…hurt you?"

"Yes. She…she had a broken curling iron. The tip was missing. She was waiting for me, hit me over the head with a small bat that she carried when she was…working. When I came to, she had me tied to a kitchen chair. She had me gagged, and the radio playing…loudly. We had a gas stove, she turned on one of the burners, and had it…it was glowing red, Casey."

"Oh, god!"

"She only had to touch me twice before I was willing to do anything she said. After that, whenever I was…whenever I didn’t do what she wanted, I'd wake up tied to a chair, or the bed, gagged, and she would…burn me." Frank's hands were shaking as he lit his cigarette.

"Why didn’t you tell anyone?"

"Sweetie, men aren't supposed to be victims of domestic abuse. Aren't supposed to be the ones beaten, abused. I was…I was too ashamed. I was able to keep it…hidden. I did tell her that if she ever…hurt…you like that, I would turn her in to the police. She believed me."

"She hurt you. She hurt me. We've both had to live with what she did to us."

"Try to understand, Casey, she wasn't…your Mo…Helen was never…right, in her mind. Never. She was so full of anger and bitterness and hatred. Poisoned by it. She was always a bit… chubby…so every woman who was slender, who was beautiful, was a threat to her, made her more aware of what she looked like. That's why she hated you. I never should have insisted on adopting a child. I just wanted a family so damned badly…and I thought that if she had children…to make up for the one I thought she had lost, that she would…change. I fell in love with you the first time I laid eyes on you in that orphanage. So sweet, so full of energy and life. Helen could see the beauty in you, even at that young age. As you grew up, matured into such a lovely young woman, a popular young woman, something she had never been, it just…it ate at her, made her…angrier." Frank shook his head again. "I should have sent you to live with Mom. She offered, several times. No, not just offered, she begged me to let you live with her. I tried to get you there as often as possible, especially when Helen was in her…mood."

"What about Sheryl?"

"Sheryl was just like your mother…an angry, bitter child. I think Helen saw herself in that little girl. They both hated you, not just because of how beautiful you were…and are. Not just because of the light that shines in you, or the way you can make people laugh. They hated you because they couldn't break you."

"I'm not so sure that's true," she murmured. "I think they did more damage than anyone realizes. I'm afraid of men, Frank. I can't talk to my Husband about sex. My Husband, Frank! He's the most gentle, kind, generous man in the world, but I can't tell him what I want when we make love. I…I blame myself for everything bad that happens, because I grew up hearing that anything bad, any…accident…was my fault. Because I'm bad."

"You're not bad, Casey. You never were."

She shook her head. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to believe that."

"Believe it, Angel," a soft, familiar voice said from the doorway.

Casey stood to her feet. "Daniel!"

"I…you were moaning, I…I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said quickly, apologetically.

She held out her hand. Held his tightly when he crossed the room and put his fingers against hers. "Thank you," she whispered. "How much…?"

"From when Frank…uh…took her to the motel." He sat down on the couch, tugged her to sit beside him. He turned to the man who should have protected her, was unable to do so. "How did you explain…" he motioned toward the man's chest and belly.

Frank laughed, a sad, quiet laugh. "If anyone ever saw me, I told them I'd been in 'Nam. Didn't have to say anything else."

"Then you weren't married very long before you adopted Casey?"

"Three years. She…Helen said she didn't want some snot-nosed, shitty baby in the house. I thought a child would…I thought that she didn't want a baby because of the one I believed she had lost. So I talked her into adopting a little girl. It was cheaper, easier to adopt an older child as well."

"We never had money…how…?" Casey asked.

"When my dad died from a heart attack, he left me some money. It was tied up so that Helen couldn't get her hands on it. But Mom helped me get enough to pay all the fees for adopting you. And Sheryl," Frank explained.

"I always wondered something…why didn't Grandma Rose like Sheryl? I mean, I could understand her not liking…Helen…but why Sheryl?" Casey asked.

"Because Mom could see that Sheryl was just like Helen…and Sheryl didn't need protection from Helen the way that you did."

She nodded slowly. Stood to her feet. "Thanks," she said softly.

"You're welcome," Frank said, standing also. He offered his hand to Daniel. "Some scars will never be healed. But if she…understands…she might learn to…deal…with them," he said softly.

Daniel took the outstretched hand. "I hope so. I'll help her however I can."

Frank nodded. He turned back to the woman his little girl had become. "Got one last hug for your old man?"

Casey smiled, hugged the man, kissed his cheek. "Goodbye…Dad."

"Goodbye, sweetie."