Page 41 of Mr. Edwards
“Do you know what it’s like to go for multiple days without food because your crack-whore of a mother would rather score a hit than feed her daughter?”
“What?” Her statement takes me back. Is this something she experienced personally? Or is she just throwing out a far-fetched scenario to help plead her case? When she pokes my chest, an uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach.
“Well, unfortunately, I do, so I’m sorry if this… ” she gestures to the expansive contents of her pantry with her hand, “ …offends you. But I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth like you Mr. Moneybags, I grew up with empty cupboards, so if this is what I need to do to give that starving little girl peace of mind then so be it. Fuck you, Grayson Edwards, you judgmental ass.”
She turns in a huff and storms toward her bedroom before I even get a chance to respond.
“Hey,” I say taking a few steps forward and reaching out to snag her arm.
Carlee tugs out of my grip and spins around to face me. “You should probably go.” Her eyes look glassy like she’s about to cry, and I feel like scum.
When she attempts to slam her bedroom door in my face, I stick my foot out, stopping her. “Hold on a minute.”
“Move your foot,” she growls, putting her full bodyweight behind the door, trying to force it closed. “Don’t push me, Grayson. I’ll kick your ass if need be.”
She’s got some strength, but she’s no match for me. “Is what you just said true?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, I do. Those small scars on your back, do they have anything to do with your upbringing?”
“You saw them, huh?”
“You know I did, don’t act coy. You tensed up as soon as I kissed them.” She bows her head but neither confirms or denies my assumption. I place my hand under her chin, tilting her face back to mine. “Did someone do that to you?”
Given the position of them, it would be almost impossible to be self-inflicted, but the question needs to be asked.
She shrugs, and my stomach sinks. That’s a good enough answer for me. My eyes search hers, and the sadness I see swimming in those hazel depths is almost my undoing. Without hesitation I pull her into my arms, crushing her petite body to mine. I try my best to remain calm on the outside, but on the inside, I’ve almost reached boiling point.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry that someone thought it was okay to hurt you like that.”
She lets me hold her for a time before stepping out of my embrace. She extends one of her arms toward me. “I have more. I don’t see the ones on my back, so sometimes I forget they’re there.”
I wrap my fingers around her bicep, gently running the tips over her tattooed skin and down the length of her arm. To the naked eye, they can’t be seen, beautifullyhidden behind the colorful ink, but I can feel the small raised bumps on her skin, and there are a lot of them. I move to her other arm and have to swallow down the lump that forms in my throat when I feel a ton more. It breaks my heart.Fucking, crushes it.What kind of monster would do this to her?
“Is this why you got your ink? To cover them up?”
She drops her gaze, staring down at the carpet, but I can see her face is now flamed red. “People always asked where they came from, and it’s not something I like to talk about. They’re a painful reminder of a time I want to forget.”
“Who did this to you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I say because I need to know who I have to kill.
“My mother,” she whispers without meeting my eyes.
I draw back like I’ve been slapped. Her mother,what the fuck. “Your mom did this to you?”
“Yes,” she answers with a small nod.
“How?”
“Her cigarettes. She was a mean drunk.”
“Fucking hell, Carlee.”
Turning my back on her, I run my fingers through my hair. It’s not because I can’t bear to look at her now, quite the opposite. I’m just struggling to keep my shit together. How could a mother inflict that kind of torture on her own child? My mom would rather die than hurt me or my little sister, Kaitlin.
