Page 44 of Nest Of Lies

Ranger gets up painfully, glaring at me. “Lia-”

I scramble for the room, leaving the door ajar. I have to slow down my walking and concentrate on my breathing.

I step through the door and into the kitchen. “Mama!”

I knew Arnold was up to something. I recognise the feeling inside me and feel guilty for not realising it was setting up for this.

She turns with her nose in the air, as if she’s surprised to see me, but seriously, where else would I be?

“Aurelia Raines, where were you?” Her first words in over a year. Not how are you? Not I missed you. You look good, nothing, but where were you?

“I was just out the back-”

“In the sunshine? It’s late afternoon. You’ll burn your skin and be ugly if you keep going out in the sun.”

I bite my tongue and stop speaking in case I give her more ammunition.

“I told you not to go outside.”

I bow my head and glance sideways. Arnold and her assistant are here. They are both looking straight ahead and not at me. Not a good sign.

“I thought you were staying with Aunt Cara for the summer?” I ask again, trying to fish for information. That’s what the email from her assistant said.

My mother raises a painted-on eyebrow. I know because I’ve seen her wax them off. Her lips are tattooed a deep burgundy colour. Her lashes are fake, and she’s wearing about thirty layers of the top-of-the-line makeup. Is anything real about China Raines?

“I heard a rumour,” my mother says, and I get that sinking feeling that I felt when I saw the silent alarm.

“What kind of rumour?” I ask with feigned curiosity.

“I heard you had men here. Is this true? Are you having men in my home, Aurelia Lee Raines?”

I wince. “No, Mama.”

“You know what would happen if I found out there were men in this house?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“What would happen?”

I resist sighing. “You would throw my ungrateful, selfish ass onto the street, and I would have to whore myself until my illness got so bad that I was unable to even spread my legs, and then I would die, thinking painfully at the end that I wished I’d listened to my mother.”

She narrows her eyes at me.

“Have you had any symptoms?”

I tense. Symptoms of what? “No, Mama.”

She sniffs. “You look a bit pasty.”

“I’m fine. Just haven’t eaten yet tonight,” I lie.

“Let’s go do the check, then.”

I shudder but follow her as she leads me to the bedroom. I strip down to my underwear and stand there while she walks around my body.

It’s humiliating. It's soul crushing. I feel like a thing and not her daughter. She inspects my rolls, my flabby thighs. Points out new moles and freckles. Picks apart my body on every level.

But my mother is right. I have nowhere to go and no skills. I’d die on the street in days.

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