Page 78 of Dolls & Daggers
“You can’t hurt me anymore.” The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them. They aren't wrapped in an articulate bow, but as my mother freezes, I know they land exactly as intended. “What you did to me was wrong. You know it was.”
Like sour milk, she curdles. Her shoulders hunch, her head dipping between them before she rolls it side to side, a grotesque mimicry of nonchalance. “Whatever do you mean, Songbird?”
“Don’t call me that!” I snap, slamming my fist onto the table. My keys rattle, and the vibration makes my phone light up again. Dove’s face stares back at me from the screen. I take a breath, steadying myself.
“You no longer have the privilege of calling me that.” My voice is steel. “You need to stop calling me. I want you to leave me alone. As of this moment, you are no longer my mother, and I am no longer your son. And if I ever hear that you’ve hurt another child the way you hurt me, I will make sure you suffer.”
Each word is slow, deliberate, thick with such disdain that it makes me want to gag. My leg bounces, restless, and when she slides a cup of pink, strawberry-scented tea toward me, I drink, hoping to soothe the tight dryness in my throat.
A heavy darkness coils inside me like smoke as the warm liquid courses through my body. I cling to it, let it fortify me like armor. “You are a disgusting, vile woman. You should be in jail. But we both know there’s no point in reporting you. There’s no evidence. And, just like you once told me, no one would believe me now.” I lift my gaze from my phone to her. Her cornflower-blue eyes narrow in something like pity, as if I’m telling her about someone else’s suffering.
“So this is me, getting the closure I need. After this, I never want to see your face again. You can’t hurt me anymore, Mom.”
The familiar pressure of tears builds, flooding my sinuses, burning beneath my eyes and into my jaw. I clench my teeth to keep them from falling. The darkness I wielded as a shield suddenly turns inward, its fangs bared at me, an unfamiliar panic rising at an alarming speed.
My gaze drops to the tea as my limbs grow heavy, my voice alien in my own ears as I rasp, “What did you do?”
She smiles. And just like that, the liquid in my stomach sours.
I think of Dove as the edges of my vision blur, then darken. I think of all the things we planned, the places we said we’d visit. The promises we made to each other over the last few weeks.
I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough, Turtle Dove.
The gleaming lemon-colored linoleum rushes toward me as I try to stand, but my legs buckle, sending me crashing to the floor. My head lolls, my brain sloshing like soup in a pot. I try to shake the haze away, but it only worsens, dragging me deeper.
Hands clamp around my biceps, and I jolt, clawing at the floor, desperate to escape the monster who has so easily reclaimed me.
“Shh. It’s okay, my little songbird. Mommy’s got you now.” I want to retch as she smooths my hair back and presses a kiss to my forehead.
Please don’t touch me.The little boy inside me sobs.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Her voice is syrupy, sickly sweet. “When you wake up, Mommy will have your lasagna ready, and we can talk about you moving back home. With me. Where you belong.”
Dove…
The last thing I see is a pair of big blue eyes.
Then, everything goes dark.
California sucks.
Well, at least the northern part does.
It’s so isolated I have to take an extra flight from a bigger airport just to reach the town where Wren’s mother whisked him away in high school. And I’m not a snob about accommodations, but there’s only one hotel with vacancies.
ONE.
Whois visiting this place?
It shouldn’t be you, that’s for sure.
As I drive through a town that looks abandoned—neglected stores and vacant streets—I release a long sigh and tap my heart-themed nails on the steering wheel.
I shouldn’t be here.
But they say revenge is a dish best served cold.
And I am cold. Or… I was because Wren decided to fuck off with Hunter for the weekend, leaving me to sleep alone.
