Page 112 of Ruling Scar
“You didn’t have to come out here.” I didn’t force her to get up this early on a Sunday.
“Do you know how many phone calls I’ve fielded from Mom?” she replies.
I haven’t fielded any. Not a call or a text. Just silence. It’s only been about fourteen hours but I feel it sharply.
“You don’t have to get in the middle.” It’s not her job to play mediator.
She lets out a weary sigh. “I’m not here to be in the middle. You two need to work it out, but I want to tell you something that might help you understand why she’s so damn protective all the time. Can we sit down?”
She lumbers over to the couch before I answer and I catch myself before offering her coffee she can’t drink.
“You know Mom’s always freaked out about us having guards because of the kidnapping.” Nat tucks the pillows around herhow she likes, hugging one to her stomach that’s starting to get a cute little bump.
“Of course I know.” It’s why it’s so hard not to push back against the security.
“Well, there’s something else. Something she never wanted to tell us.” At my wrinkled nose, she explains. “I heard people gossiping so I confronted her about it. Look, don’t get squeamish on me.”
“What is it?” I ask. Mom never talks about the three days in captivity. They tortured her, yes, but it’s only ever discussed in generic tones. My heart beats harder, the muscles straining as I stare at Nat who nods.
“Yeah, they sexually assaulted her,” Nat confirms. She’s matter of fact, her face plain. Like it’s a detail she’s gone over a hundred times. How long has she kept this to herself?
I play with a stray thread on the edge of a pillow, holding it tight. Nat doesn’t give explicit details but it’s safe to assume this wasn’t groping or a pinch on the ass.
Someone raped Mom. And she’s lived with that pain her whole life.
I’m frozen as I examine the knowledge.
This confirms what some people occasionally imply or wonder about. But unmasking the truth is never an easy affair.
“It’s not just that.” Nat takes my hand. “Mom’s strong, but. . .” It’s one of the rare times I see my sister hesitate. “She was pregnant with me when it happened.”
For a second the whole world stops as I comprehend what Nat’s saying.
“Oh.” I toy with the thread, wrapping it tightly around my finger. “Oh.”
Nat rubs my shoulder. “When I was in high school, I overheard some Russian assholes that were in town to meetDad and Lev. They were making it seem like I wasn’t Boris’s daughter.”
I startle, my body jerking.
Nat keeps rubbing my shoulder, smiling through the pain. “I was livid at the idea that Dad was hiding my lineage from some asshole. So I confronted Mom. Looking back, I hate how I did it, but my teenage self really wasn’t equipped to have such an emotional conversation.”
“What happened?”
“Mom got super upset. I think it wasn’t so much that I asked, but that people were gossiping. She explained to me that she’d been assaulted, that it was brutal, though, she didn’t give details. And when I kept asking her if I was the result she got even sadder. She told me she was about six weeks along. She didn’t know at the time and she said she was actually glad she didn’t. That if she’d been aware, that she knew her baby might end up hurt, she might not have been able to survive at the time.”
“No wonder Dad and Lev come down so hard on people who gossip.” When we were younger, whispers would float around. Now people know to keep their mouths shut.
And no wonder Mom loves Russet so much. Marissa got what she fucking deserved.
Nat moves a strand of hair off my face. “I think in her mind she can’t distinguish between who got hurt. She was raped, but it’s like she’s afraid that pain transferred over to me. That she harmed me somehow. It’s not her fault, and I don’t think of it like that. But I can see it now. . . how it kills her.”
The security teams are her way of trying to ensure it never happens to us, but also as a way to undo the idea that she put Nat at risk.
“How did you get out of taking the guards when you were younger?” I ask. She started dating Lia in high school and refused to let them chaperone their dates.
“Talking to her,” Nat says. “That sounds simple, but I chipped away at her and texted her more to let her know my locations. And sometimes, I’d pick spots that were nearby because I knew she’d do a drive by anyway.”
We smile at the ridiculousness. That’s Mom and her lack of boundaries, though.
