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My occasional punches to the ribs cannot compare to the horror I’m hearing.

“This,”—she gestures to her marks—“doesn’t excuse what happened to you, Skyler. I am your mother, and I should have protected you.”

I graze my fingertips along her ribs, she winces from the touch. “It seems like you tried to protect me.”

Every cut and bruise shows me that she tried in vivid detail.

“I feel like everything I could tell you would only sound like an excuse,” she admits.

“No, tell me.”

“I only starved you out because he threatened to fire Mrs. Rita, and I knew when we were out of town that she would bring you treats and cook for you. I knew you were getting food from her and school, so telling you not to eat was only for his benefit. I never wanted you thin, and when you would start dropping weight, I added extra protein into the shakes in the fridge and planned more trips than we needed so you could have her to feed you.”

A sense of free will and power washes over her, she straightens out her shoulders.

“And when he would hurt you, it was only because I had no more room to hold the bruises,” she cries. “I know it isn’t fair and you shouldn’t have taken any, but I tried to take the brunt of it.”

My voice begins to shake. “It isn’t fair to you either.”

“I would cover up splotches with makeup so he would think I was healed enough to leave you alone.”

“The vacations, us being gone, was only an excuse to get him away from you,” she admits. “I needed him away from you as much as possible.” Her whole body is trembling. “Which is why you can never come back here, Skyler. You escaped.”

She turns to Grace. “I’m sorry. I wanted to escape my past, and I got tangled so far into his life that I couldn’t. I tried reaching out to you, and those years I sent Christmas cards were times he was out of town and couldn’t check who I was sending them to.”

“I wish I could have been here to stop this.” Grace looks between both of us. “But I’m here now.”

“Why did you want to escape your life so badly?” She asks in a whisper.

“I always wanted more from life, and I thought a rich husband was the solution. It wasn’t my plan to abandon my family, I simply wanted to come out of poverty and give you the best life possible,” she cries, clutching Grace’s hand. “But he alienated me, the days turned to months and then months turned to years with no contact.”

They hug, crying decades of separation out into the vast living room. When they both crumple to the ground, I follow them.

23

Ifell asleep in my old room, exhausted from the new truths I found out yesterday. Grace is here too, which is the only reason I stayed. She was worried I was too emotional to drive, which was true, and my mom assured me that Kent was on a business trip.

I have an aunt, a family member who I adore.

My mom … it’s something I can’t wrap my mind around. To forgive or not? She was used as a pawn like me, but she was older. She could have run away and took me with her. We could have lived under a box.

The thoughts swirling through my mind are too much, too fast.

I could leave a note, to warn my father that someone wants him dead. This may make me a terrible person, but I don’t feel like wasting the energy to write it out.

I pull the covers down to allow the lighting to wake me up. I grab my phone to call Foster, but it’s dead. I dig through my purse for my charger, and my heart races when I see the missed calls.

One from Kate, with a message telling me to call her back. Three voicemails from Grace, from when I ran from her house.

But what makes me feel immense guilt is the seventeen missed calls and thirty texts from Foster.

I only read the last three.

Answer the fucking phone!

God, Sky. Please tell me you’re okay.

What did I do, baby?

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