Page 192 of Beautifully Reckless

“Don’t act so entitled, Abigail.” She curls her lip, her eyes filled with nothing but disgust as she takes me in. “You brought this on yourself.”

I’m about to retaliate with a comeback when she lunges forward, grabbing for the t-shirt I’m wearing. The only thing they let me keep when they drugged me and kidnapped me.

It’s also the only piece of Ringo I have left, besides the black band on my finger.

“Now you have what they want,” she sneers, voice full of venom, “and all because you couldn’t keep your legs closed in the first place. If you hadn’t been such awhore, you could’ve married a decent man. Had childrenwithoutthe sin you’ve smeared on our family name… without the shame you’ve brought to our church.”

I hate her! I hate her so much.

Not only is she blaming me for everything that’s happened, but she won’t even acknowledge that what Officer Allen did to me was rape when I first woke up in this hell hole. That what Donny spent the next day doing to me was rape. That the last four days I spent locked away with Daniel… well, for all she knew, was rape.

Daniel’sbehaviour was a surprise. He’s been off his normal vile game.

He hasn’t been interested in raping me or having any form of sex with me at all.

He just keeps asking if the baby is his. Telling me I don’t understand, and that he needs to know… yet he won’t tell me why.

“I can’t help you if that kid isn’t mine.”

I don’t know what the hell he meant by that, but since Daniel had such a massive hand at putting me in this nightmare, I spat in his face too. Because fuck him!

Of course, he retaliated by punching my thigh so hard I feared he broke bones.

Then, he told me I deserve everything I get.

“Put the dress on.”

My mother’s voice is jarring, snapping me out of my spiral of memories of the last few days since being stolen away from the only place that ever felt like home to me, even when Ringo wasn’t there.

I glare at the white fabric draped over her arm, my stomach twisting.

“No.”

“Yes!” She stomps her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum, which is when Maggie, my traitor of a sister who’s been watching silently in the corner, finally decides to speak.

“Mum, just drug her. She’s never going to cooperate.”

“How many times do I have to tell everyone? Wecan’tdrug hernow. It’s not good for the baby.”

“Notgood for the baby?” I laugh maniacally. “That didn’t stop you when you first found out! And it didn’t stop those fuckers when they kidnapped me the other day!” I scream and she has the nerve to shush me.

“Honestly, Abigail. You spent a few months in the company of ruffians and now you’re speaking like them?”

I scoff. “You don’t like my language, mother?” I lean closer, just to make sure she hears me properly. “The men you prefer I spend time with are rapist fuckers! Fuckers! Fuckers! Fuckers!” I’m shaking now, chest heaving, my voice full of manic rage. “I FUCKING HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS, YOU FUCKING COW!”

The slap is loud, a sharp crack that rattles my brain as my head whips to the side. The second I taste blood, I start laughing.

It’s ugly and unhinged, mustered from somewhere deep, and I embrace it as a flash of fear flickers over my mum’s expression.

That’s right, mother. Your daughter has fucking lost it.

Gathering the blood pooled in my mouth, I spit it on the beige carpet at my mother’s feet.

“Don’t be so vile.” She curls her lip in disgust, stepping back from the bloody splat, like it might infect her.

God, I wish it would.

“You’re so tough, aren’t you, Mum?” I laugh again, the sound hollow and manic.

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