Page 93 of Clinch'd

“I don't know, it’s flashes of things. Mom fighting that dick. What was his name?”

“Floyd,” I say sourly. Just the thought of him makes me ill. He was a slimy little bastard who refused to work and sat around all day waiting for mom to come home so he could beat on her.

That last time, he was drunk, and she was flying high. Not from drugs, no. She was bipolar, and off her meds, again. The two did not mix and Floyd couldn’t handle her manic behavior.

So, while she talked a mile a minute, flew through the house convinced something was burning, he lost his shit.

I don’t know what exactly happened behind that door because I’ve never asked, but I know he left her bleeding out while I sat on the floor beside her and begged and screamed to no avail.

The paramedics came too late to do anything but take us away to separate homes. I didn’t see Lorri for four years. By then, she was a different person, but I was still me.

I’ve clawed my way to the surface after drowning too many times to count. I love my sister and have felt a responsibility toward her for years, but she doesn’t need me. She never did.

“Well,” she says, “I remember he was angry. And screams. It was so loud.”

“Do you remember her?” I ask.

“Sort of. She was always so...happy,” she says softly.

“She was bipolar,” I say dryly. “She thought Jesus spoke to her in our cereal.”

“Oh.”

“Look, Lorri,” I say with a sigh. “You can be a good mom just do the opposite of what our mom did, and you’ll be fine. Besides, you’ve got Cooper.”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, “but I need my sister.”

“That’s the thing, Lorri,” I say as Cooper steps into the door with a blank look. “You don’t need me. You never did.”

“That’s not true. I needed you then and you weren’t there,” she spits and I spin around.

“Then when? Before?”

“Yes, you should have protected me. You should have stayed with me!” she cries, clenching her stomach.

My eyes drop to her hands cradling a new life and I exhale slowly.I can’t do this anymore.

“Do what?” she sneers.

I hear Cooper shift behind me, but I ignore him because he doesn’t matter. He never did.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I’m fucking done.”

“Minnie,” Cooper growls.

Raising my hand in the air, I cut him off. “The night that Mom died, I hid you in a cupboard and took a beating for it. When Mom came home convinced, we could fly, I’m the one who held her down until she passed out. When your dad threatened to kill you for wetting the damn bed, I took the blame. And Lorri, when the fucking parents who swooped in and adopted you, you know the ones who didn’t want me, I ran away so you could have a fucking home. So, fuck off.”

With that, I brush past Cooper who’s staring at me with wide eyes and ignore Lorri’s tear-filled gaze. I don’t care how far I have to walk. I need out. Now.

My chest feels tight. I can’t fucking breathe. Memories from before are pushing at my vision and my mind is spinning wickedly.

Not only that, but when she put her hand over her stomach, all I could see was Cooper holding their child, and the pain that raced up my sternum is permanently etched in my chest.

I’m not even halfway down the driveway before Cooper pulls up beside me and says grimly, “Get in.”

I don’t have the energy to argue, so I slide into the seat and stare out the window, although I’m blind to everything.

It’s quiet until we reach my apartment, and my hand is on the knob when he clears his throat.

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