To Love You Was to Hate You

On my birthday, Sebastian Crowe sliced off my father’s hand right in front of me.

When my father’s men chopped one of Sebastian’s legs in retaliation, he just lifted his head and smiled with blood shining in the moonlight.

“Go on. Kill me," he challenged. "If you leave me alive, and you lay a hand on her again, I’ll cut off your legs next! Try me!”

From that day forward, my stepfather never touched me again.

Sebastian always claimed women shouldn’t have blood on them, so he took the knife from my hands.