Page 143 of Finding Our Reality

Vomit coats the inside of my mouth. “There’s no point in denying it. There’s a photograph.”

His eyes widen, before narrowing in anger. He clenches his teeth and snarls, “Really? You have a picture? Of what?” He points to his chin. “Of my face?”

“I don’t need to see your face to know it’s you.”

“Look, Ella, I don’t know what you think you saw, but you’re mistaken.”

“I’m not!” I yell. “It’s you!” I grab the frame from the mantel and tap the glass. “This. It shows your cut. A cut that turns into a scar. Not too many people have a scar like this on their leg. Carrie is passed out, and you are raping her. On the couch. At Trey’s mobile home.”

“Who’s Trey?”

I have to give the asshole credit. He didn’t even flinch at the name.

“You know damn well who Trey was. Apparently, you were his supplier.”

“Supplier of what?”

“You tell me, Phillip. What drugs did you give him? How much money did he make you? Was the whole gas station operation your idea?”

Phillip takes a deep breath. Calmly, he walks back over to the bar and pours himself another two fingers. Fury courses through my veins, making me nauseous and dizzy. I quickly tire of his games and throw the race photograph at his head. He darts to the side and it shatters against the wall, sending glass scattering across the Italian marble floor.

Shaking his head, he chuckles. Cynically. Maniacally. “You know, Ella, you never used to cause problems like this when you were a little girl. You always did what you were told.” He walks over to a hutch in the corner, opens a drawer, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “I remember once, when you had just started high school…” His voice trails off as he lights a cigarette and takes a drag.

I’ve never seen him smoke before.

He blows smoke in the air. “Well, anyway, you went to the gynecologist. Do you remember that?”

Of course, I remember it. It was traumatic. Mom said I needed to go because I was fourteen and hadn’t started my period yet. I was a young, teenage girl and completelyoverwhelmed and embarrassed to have a doctor look at me and touch me. It didn’t matter that the doctor was a woman. I was even more embarrassed when she confirmed for my mother that I was a virgin.

But my mother insisted I go. I listened to her. I obeyed her. Just like I always did.

Before Carrie went missing. Before I met Ry. Before I found my voice.

He laughs, “Of course, you remember that. I see it on your face. You know that doctor was having an affair with your father. That’s why your mother wanted to meet her. She wanted to size up her latest competition. And you, my dear, were the perfect excuse. Sweet little Ella always making her mommy and daddy happy. You let someone touch your pussy just because you couldn’t say no to that conniving bitch of a mother. Anything to try and gain her love, right?”

I wish I didn’t have to hear his words. My eyes burn with the salt of unshed tears. The muscles in my throat hurt from holding in my sobs. “At least my parents weren’t drug dealers.”

“You think you have it all figured out? That little sleuth business of yours paying off?”

“I know that the surgery you did on my sister’s knee turned her into an addict. I know she turned to Trey and Trash and that gas station for her fix. I know she started selling. She was selling your drugs, wasn’t she? What happened? Did she find out you were the supplier? Did she confront you about the rape?” I take a step forward, closing some of the distance between us. “What did you do to my sister?”

He tosses the cigarette on the floor and grinds it out with his foot. “She brought all this on herself!”

“What happened to Carrie, you asshole!”

In two seconds flat, he rushes me. I’m completely unprepared. I should’ve been more prepared. Hell, this is whatI do for a living. I interview people all the time who have lived through situations like this. And what do I do? I freeze.

He flings me down on the stiff, white leather couch. His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing. Squeezing hard. I immediately panic when I can’t breathe. I claw at his hands, coughing and sputtering for air.

“I can’t believe that filthy little bitch made a copy of the picture. She showed up here with a memory card, said she didn’t make any copies. I guess that’s my fault for believing her.”

I buck against him, trying to knee him in the stomach or groin, but my position isn’t right. My vision grows foggy, clouding with small spots of green and purple. He leans down, pressing his lips against the rim of my ear. “She was pregnant. Did you know that? She knew it was me in the picture. Same as you, she saw the scar. She told me I had to get her clean, pay for her to go to rehab. I told her to go ask Robert and Susan for the money. You know what she said? She said they would cut her off when they found out she was pregnant. Said they would disown her. I told her I would give her the money for an abortion.”

He sits back a little bit, slightly loosening his grip. My greedy body hungers for the extra oxygen. I swallow as much air as I can.

His teeth grind. “She said no. She actually wanted to get clean and have the baby. Can you imagine that? What a stupid cunt. Did she actually think I was gonna let her have my kid? She would’ve ruined me. Completely ruined me. I’ve worked too hard; I’ve come too far.”

My whisper is barely audible. “What did you do?”

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