Page 58 of Ruined Wolfsbane

But Malachi doesn’t get the memo. “Where is your mom in all of this? What, does she just sit back and watch Patrick beat you?”

“She’s dead,” I say so quietly I’m not sure they can hear me. It echoes around the suddenly silent car like a gunshot. Bastian must have paused the music at Malachi’s question.

I see regret swimming in Malachi’s gaze before I’m pulled into the memory of the worst day of my life.

“Mama!” I shout as I push open the heavy front door of Patrick’s mansion. I wish we could move back home. Our house was so much homier than Patrick’s. Mama seemed happier, too, before we moved.

“I’m home!” I try again when I don’t get any response. Usually, Mama’s here to greet me after school’s out. She always asks me about my day before we walk to pick up Ava.

My friends say it’s lame that I hang out with my mom and baby sister after school, but I wouldn’t change our routine for anything. Patrick doesn’t get home until late, so he’s never involved in pickup. I try to spend as little time around my stepdad as possible. Something about him creeps me out.

I haphazardly toss my bright teal backpack near the front door before going in search of Mama.

Checking the kitchen first, I smile when I see a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Mama is an awesome baker, and her chocolate chip cookies are epic. Swiping one, I shove it in my mouth whole. I chew quickly, expecting Mama to pop out and scold me for having dessert before dinner. She’s a stickler for a balanced diet.

When she doesn’t, I frown. This isn’t like her.

Hmm. Maybe she’s in the library. Yeah, that’s probably it. She most likely got so caught up in a book she didn’t hear me come in. Mama loves her books. Whenever I ask if I can read them, she says not until I’m older. Once I’m old enough, I’ll appreciate them. I’m practically an adult, so I think she just doesn’t want to share.

I shake off the kernel of doubt trying to worm its way in. Everything’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about.

Grabbing another cookie, I head to the library. I roll my eyes at the multiple framed portraits of Patrick that I pass. Patrick loves talking about himself, looking at himself, and making everything about himself. I don’t know what Mama saw in him, but I’ll be forever grateful she married him because that’s how I got Ava.

I need to find Mama quick, or we’re gonna be late to pick up my favorite chicken nugget. Ava’s squishy little baby face turns red in annoyance whenever I call her that. It’s adorable.

The library doors are already open. I walk into the large space with soaring ceilings. The library is a couple rooms packed full of dark wood bookshelves. Patrick mostly keeps nonfiction in here because he’s a stick-in-the-mud. Mama’s been stocking it with fiction books for me and Aves.

When I reach the sitting room in the middle of the library, I see Mama lying on her back on one of the sofas. “Mama!” I call to get her attention. She doesn’t stir. Usually she’s a light sleeper, so her not waking up is weird.

As I approach the couch, I see that her lips are blue and one arm’s hanging limply off the edge. She’s pale and looks kinda sick. Rushing over, I fall to my knees and grab her icy-cold hand. “Mama,” I try again. “Please wake up! We need to go get Ava.”

I try to move her hand, but her arm is locked tight. I look up, expecting to see Mama’s blue eyes dancing with laughter as she stops me from moving her. But her eyes are shut tight, a slight grimace on her face. I look at her chest and see it isn’t rising. Reaching my hand up to her neck, I try to find a pulse. I can’t.

No breathing and no pulse mean she’s… dead.

“No!” I wail, tears cascading down my face and splashing on her yellow sundress. No! No, this can’t be happening. Mama can’t be dead. She was just alive and happy this morning. “Mama! You can’t leave me! We need you. Ava and I do. Please don’t leave,” I end on a pitiful plea, voice breaking in despair.

I sob so hard it’s difficult to breathe. As I’m gasping for a breath that’s just out of reach, I wonder why I’m trying to keep breathing so hard. Mama’s gone. What’s the point of living without her?

“Breathe, you stupid little brat. It’s not your time yet,” a harsh voice says from behind me. Someone smacks me hard enough on the back that I reflexively suck in a breath. Turning around, I note Patrick standing over me. I see his impassive face through my tear-slicked lashes. He doesn’t even seem to care that Mama’s dead. I, on the other hand, feel like my whole world has ended. “Move,” he demands.

“No!” I cry, clinging onto Mama’s necklace with one hand and her dress with the other.

Not liking my response, Patrick grabs me by the back of my shirt. He flings me into a bookshelf. I crash into it headfirst. Pain blooms at the base of my skull where my head cracked into the lowest shelf. Bringing my hand up to my head to touch the tender spot, I realize I have Mama’s necklace in my grip. It must have broken when Patrick threw me.

“Get up! Go pick up Ava. I’ll deal with your mother,” Patrick says with a sneer. He looks at Mama like she’s an inconvenience.

I want to protest, but the promise of pain in Patrick’s eyes has me sluggishly standing up. Besides, with Mama gone, there’s no one else to look out for Ava. I know Mama would want me to do everything possible to protect her, so that’s what I’ll do.

Gathering up every ounce of strength I possess, I stiffly walk away from Mama. Everything in me screams at me to try to wake her up one last time, but I have to be the adult now. There’s no time for childish hopes and dreams and wishes. Clenching Mama’s favorite wolfsbane locket in my hand, I stuff all my feelings down and focus on what needs to be done.

The car slowing down yanks me out of the memory of finding my mom that day.

I haven’t stopped suppressing my feelings since that day. Never fully dealing with the pain and grief of losing my mom probably isn’t healthy, but it’s what I have to do to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

After finding my mom dead, I had the equally heartbreaking job of telling Ava she was gone. Ava’s heartrending sobs that day will haunt me for the rest of my life.

They said my mom died of sudden heart failure, but she was completely healthy before with no symptoms of heart disease. The apathetic look on Patrick’s face when he found me with my mom has troubled me for the past seven years. He didn’t look surprised that my mom was dead. I can’t help but wonder if he had something to do with it.

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