Page 67 of Cuts Like an Angel: Part 2

Chapter Thirty-Two

Rosie

Rosie fought her anger as she drove back to the house with a silent, tormented William. His guilt had been so thick in that room she could hardly breathe. The way he held that woman’s hand—she couldn’t bring herself to refer to her as his mother. Then his hesitancy to leave. And she was sure he had no idea how obvious it was to those on the outside watching. She was sure he was trying his best to hide that he cared. He was damned if he cared, damned if he didn’t, and Rosie felt that struggle as much as she experienced it for him.

The need to love a mother, the need to have a mother to love. Then actually loving a monster that was your mother, and the guilt each of those sad realities bit him with. That’s what she witnessed back there. How did she convince him that he loved the only damn thing he’d ever been given and it wasn’t his fault?

Rosie broke the silence with, “Her color was great, I think?” She strangled the steering wheel, letting that sit in the air. “They seem to be taking good care of her,” she added.

He sat quietly, making her own turmoil grow.

“We don’t need to talk right now. I understand.”

It felt like a mile passed when he mumbled, “Thank you.” And by then, she wasn’t sure if it was for her previous comment or something else.

“Of course,” she said, hoping it covered whatever he thanked her for. “A nice hot cup of coffee would be great right about now. Hey, maybe we should take pictures of what we’re doing at the house and show Maria. Might cheer her up?”

He gave a derisive low snort. “Probably give her a heart attack.”

She couldn’t tell if it was excitement or guilt in his tone. She could’ve sworn both were there. She considered the possibility that he’d hate her as much as he loved her. God, what a corner to be crammed into.

“Well, then we don’t want that,” she whispered.

“No, we don’t,” he said in a carefree tone that went directly against the words. Almost like no, he didn’t want that, but yes, he did want exactly that.

The rest of the ride home was quiet. She fought the light tremble in her body, the cold weather not helping her anxiety over how to help William process things. She felt so useless. But doing nothing was better than doing the wrong thing. Right?

That was the stupid problem, she wasn’t sure. Carly would know. Hope tickled her stomach as she made mental plans to call her. Ask her for tips with him. Surely, she’d have an inside scoop into William by now?

Not William, Josh.

It dawned on Rosie then. Carly had pretty much been counseling the part of William that didn’t need it. The part of him that had his shit together or knew how to get it together, or pretend it was together. She wouldn’t be surprised if he made the visits as Josh to help bury William. Counsel him right into non-existence.

Entering the house, Rosie watched William slowly climb the stairs. She locked the door, biting her tongue on all the things she wanted to say to help make him feel better. Silence seemed to be what he needed.

She made coffee and heard the water running upstairs. A shower might definitely help him. Her stomach tensed at remembering he was a cutter. Please don’t do that William.

She paced near the stairs, mostly listening for sounds of distress, like a body falling or a head hitting something from maybe losing too much blood. On her second cup, she paused her pacing when the bathroom door opened. She waited for him through a third cup of coffee before realizing he wasn’t planning to come back down.

She made her way upstairs after checking nothing was left on in the kitchen. Listening for sounds of what he was doing, she tiptoed across the upstairs hallway to the bedroom door. It was ajar and dark inside. Slowly opening it, she made him out on the bed. Laying down.

A silent sigh released and her heart clenched in her chest. She wasn’t used to him closing himself off like that.

That damn hateful woman had messed him up so bad.

Rosie made her way to bed and quietly slipped off her sneakers, remembering to put them neatly at the foot before climbing in next to him. She held him in a way that hopefully conveyed she was there for him but not needing him. That he was free to not do anything for or with her, and that she still loved him. With the tips of her fingers, she barely stroked the soft blond hair at the back of his neck, using her best non-neediness touch.

She listened to his breathing, closing her eyes and praying for him. She realized as she did that she wasn’t very good at the praying thing.

God… I know I’ve not been spiritually active and I’m not trying to make any excuses. You know me better than I know myself. But can you please help William? Please help me help William? I have no idea what to do for him. I feel helpless. If you could give me some kind of direction, I swear I’ll … no, I won’t swear anything. I don’t want it to be about that, about conditions. Because that would mean you need bribing and according to Gramma, you’re not the type to go for that. I’m just going to ask and believe that you want the same things for him that I do. To be healed. And I don’t know how that is supposed to happen. If you could zap him all better, that would be great. But… if you have to go other routes, then do what you need to. You know things I don’t, and I’m praying you help me know what to do for him. Amen. Oh and help Maria get better. Unless you think she’s better off dead, then … do what you need to. And I know she’s his mother, and I know there’s reasons she’s like she is. So, please help me not hate her. Or want to kill her. Amen. And I’m sorry for not talking to you more. I love you. Goodnight. Tell Gramma hi for me. Amen for real this time.

Rosie wasn’t sure when she fell asleep or what had woken her. William wasn’t in the bed, she realized. Maybe that was it. Her body missed him and told her mind to fix it.

She got out of bed and slowly made her way to the door, listening before she stepped out into the hall. She turned at hearing voices on her right. She crept toward it, realizing it was coming from that room. The one William always hid from her. Was he on the phone? Why would he be there?

She carefully tip-toed till she was at the door. Leaning her head, she put her ear as close as she could to hear.

“No, it was you. It was always you. All I ever wanted was to be a good boy. All I ever wanted was your love.”

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