Page 177 of I Will Break You

My eyes burn as the movie cuts to a woman with my hair, my build, and the clothes I wore the night those men broke into myroom. She’s running for her life, fleeing, pursued by the dark figure striding forward with unwavering confidence.

“I can’t watch this.”

“So, it’s you, then?” she asks.

I shake my head.“It can’t be.”

In the next scene, she’s being tackled to the ground. The phone slips from my fingers and lands on the wooden floorboard.

Mom sets down her bag, picks up the handset, and leaves it on the sofa beside her to play. “I thought it was a rape scene at first,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Because no woman in her right mind would consent to this filth.”

I breathe hard, my ears ringing, but not loud enough to muffle the soundtrack or her vengeful words.

“Dr. Saint said some women are just unlucky and fall into patterns of abuse. She said if it happens when they’re young enough, they sometimes gravitate to predators.”

A tight fist squeezes my heart, sending pain radiating through my chest. “What the hell are you saying?”

She shakes her head. “Your past is etched into your DNA. I thought you were fighting against it, but nothing can erase the taint.”

My pulse thuds harder, faster, more frantically, as I puzzle out her cryptic words. There’s so much to unpack. “Are you blaming me for Mr. Lawson? Or did something else happen earlier?”

“You crave degradation, pain, and humiliation.”

“What are you talking about?” I shriek.

“I should have listened to my instincts.”

“Mom!”

She shoots out of her seat, finally looking me in the eyes. “Consider yourself disowned. No more bail outs. No more cover-ups. No more financial support, no more pretending you’re a broken little innocent. As of today, I’m childless.”

My stomach plummets to the floorboards. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I give up. I’m done. The house goes on the market tomorrow.”

Panicked thoughts race through my mind as I try to makesense of her rant. There’s more to what she’s saying than the incident when I was thirteen, and it’s probably related to something I did before I was ten. Before I can even process her words, Mom is already heading toward the door.

“Don’t leave without giving me answers.” I grab her wrist, but she twists me into an armlock and presses me against the wall.

“I’m relieved this happened because I finally have proof I need to stop treating you like a victim,” she snarls. “This is the last time you see me, girl. Come to my house, and I won’t just call the police. I’ll have you committed.”

“Let go of me.” I struggle against her, but she shoves back.

“That’s enough,” Xero’s voice booms from the stairs.

Mom jumps back with a gasp. “You!”

I freeze. What will Xero do to her if she calls the police?

EIGHTY-TWO

XERO

Amethyst’s mother has more red flags than a communist rally and not because of all that screaming. After overhearing her dismissive treatment of the troll’s attack, I expected to find a shitload of dirt on the woman, but she didn’t have so much as a speeding ticket. That in itself was suspicious.

Not only did someone powerful cover up the murder of her music teacher, but the coroner’s report claimed it was a suicide. No scandal involving Cuthbert Lawson and a young girl could be found in the New Alderney Times, only Lawson’s meager obituary.

We checked the background of Melonie Crowley, whose records don’t portray her as a three-dimensional person until she moved to New Alderney to become a socialite. This is typical of people in witness protection or who have bought a new ID, but there are no further clues to her true identity.

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