Page 185 of Severed Rivalry
On Tuesday, after a day with Ayla at her favorite spa, I came home to Renée fully settled into her bedroom. Byfully settled, I mean, they’d painted the walls a rich almost hot pink. She had a new comforter that was a minty green with baby pink and hot pink accents. There was a new rug, all her clothes hung in the closet, and a television was mounted on the wall above her dresser.
I had enough massage after-glow to not feel left out of the fun.
I spent most afternoons that week at Rosie’s. The girls had had enough time to decompress from the terror of the full moon ceremony and know enough that another comes again in two weeks.
Seeing my daughter and these girls in the same room was a moment ofwhat isversuswhat could have been. The difference in a real life and a half life, the real world and a contrived one.
She’s getting to know them and they her. I don’t want her to have relationships built on trauma bonds, but I do want her to know what moving and all our new beginnings were for. And I want her to know no matter my crazy, I want more for her than what I had, that my crazy rules were always for her good.
That I did—and am doing—the best I can.
And despite the war in my soul over it, I gave them the choice. I wanted it to be a woman who returned to them the power that had been taken from them. I wanted to put control back in their hands, even if those hands had less information, and less wisdom, than I have.
I told them everything. Every damn thing. And then I gave them a choice and told them to think on it and discuss it amongst themselves. Bring their questions to Rosie or hold them for me. We’d answer honestly.
So here I sit, in Rosie’s living room, with four innocent girls, my daughter, and my mom for all intents and purposes.
“I failed you,” I start and the looks of confusion that greet me give me courage to go on. “I realized when I left that I didn’t give you all your choices. I made it seem like you only had two options—choose to draw Jonas here or not. But there are more. You have the option to stay in Denver, create a life, go to school. And—” I exhale because I hate this one. “You have the option to go home to South Dakota and return to Promised Land.”
Rosie gasps. “Why?” If looks could kill, I’d be eviscerated.
I turn and speak only to her but do it loud enough that it’s no secret to those in the room. “You saved me, Rosie. You helped me out of a life I hated and set my feet on the path that even in mywildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined. But Ichosethat. I want them to get to choose. Even if it isn’t what I would pick. Just like Ruth made a choice. I have an opinion, but it’s their lives, and they have agency.”
“I want a belly button ring.” My daughter looks at me with challenge in her gaze, testing every boundary I have… And my very last nerve.
“When you’re eighteen, go for it.” My voice is sickly sweet, but she knows the steel behind it. She chose the wrong time to test me.
“What’s a belly button ring?” one of the girls asks, and I swear the monkeys of my life have overrun the circus.
Discussion begins in earnest about piercings—where and how, jewelry, and fucking bodily autonomy. My daughter is too smart and too savvy. I love it, all the while it challenges me.
Eventually we circle back to the matter at hand. One by one, the girls all decide they’d rather be here than go back to South Dakota, though the meekest one cries when she says it. She’s scared, misses her brother, and is overwhelmed by the world outside of the compound.
A little freedom goes a long way.
Cian
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. No need to repeat it,” Liam says, his fingers hitting the keys of his laptop in the background. “In your inbox now.”
“So, it’s over?”
“Guess so.”
“Just like that?”
“Asking again won’t change the facts.”
“So?”
“So, Ayla’s in Greece. You have shit to do. I’m going for a ride.” Always so succinct.
“Where’re you headed?”
“Montana.”
“For how long?”
