Page 102 of Bound to a Killer
My heart stills, my body losing all function for a moment as I stand there, frozen, watching him come into focus. He draws closer, stopping beneath the lit bulb in the pathway. Bile rushes to the front of my mouth as I catch sight of the long scar across his lips, the faded line slashing his left cheek, marring it in the exact place I clawed it years ago when I fought him off of me.
He barks at my mother to get out of his way. She flinches as he draws his leg back, ready to shove it into her again. So small beneath him. Diminished, collapsing inward, a ghost of the woman she used to be. Before I even realize it, my lips move and I’m speaking, my voice sounding foreign and distant. Old, unpleasant memories resurfacing, holding me prisoner.
“Steven?” I call out, my stomach churning as I say his name for the first time in years, my chest squeezing tight as I try to make sense of the scene in front of me.
How’s he here? How’d he get ahold of my mom?
Why? Why’s he here?
They broke up a long time ago. I don’t understand.
My fingers tighten over my phone, holding it close to my chest as my heart pounds hard enough to fracture my ribs. The beating infiltrates my hearing, blocking out the rest of the noise momentarily. When his head lifts, eyes locking with mine, the drumming in my ears flattens into a faint, long ring, my fingers growing numb.
He looks exactly as I remember him from my childhood, only the scar is more faded, his stomach rounder, his face pudgier, his hair graying. A wicked grin flashes across his stubbled cheeks, souring the influx of bile already gathering in my mouth. I could hurl.
“Well, would you look at that?” he marvels, his booming voice spearing through my chest, slowing my breath until I feel woozy. “If it ain’t little Aria.” His gaze drags over me, slow and revolting, from head to toe. A shiver crawls down my spine as his eyes settle on mine again. “You’re startin’ to look like your mother. Back when she was worth lookin’ at, anyway.”
I swallow hard, forcing the bitterness down. “Why’s she crying?”
He scoffs and swings the door shut behind him with a heavy thud, face twisting with disgust. “That’s none of your concern. This is between me and the old hag.”
Hurt and betrayal lace through my chest as I try to catch my mom’s eyes, but she doesn’t look at me. Not once.
Shame burrows into her as she curls in on herself, her sobs quieter now, though the tremors still cling to her limbs. She stays hunched, her gaze fixed on nothing, until he fists a handinto her tangled hair and yanks, ripping a whimper from her throat.
The sound of it rips through me, raw and aching, wounding me in a way I can’t deny to myself. Even after everything she’s done—from letting herself hollow out, fading into dust, treating me as an afterthought—I still can’t shake my feelings for her away. She’s still my mother. Still a victim. All she has to do istry.Just try,and I’ll side with her. We’re stronger together. We can get rid of him. Together.
Her eyes finally find mine as Steven yanks her to her feet. There’s a warning in them as she tilts her head, just enough to send the message. Begging. Pleading.Don’t intervene.
It knocks the air from my lungs. My chest clamps tight. Vision blurs as tears rise, fast and unwanted, burning with the shame of thinking she’d even want my help.
She hasn’t changed at all. Still shielding him. Still abandoning herself. Still abandoning me.
She isn’t going to fight for us.
It’s easier to stay small, to submit to his blows and vile remarks, but I’m not going to stand for it. Not this time. Not again.
She can stay flattened beneath his boot, waiting for the day he pressed too hard, but I’m done being a witness to it. I’m not that weak, terrified little girl anymore.
The decision has already seeped through me, slow and silent, like fuel soaking everything I’ve clung onto for so long, until Steven lifts his hand, and something inside me ignites, snapping me into motion.
Already spun around, I sprint toward my room, unwilling to linger back long enough to watch him backhand her. My fists clench at my sides, neck taut as I hold my head high, refusing to cower like my mother.
There’s no way I’m going to stay here with him under the same roof. It isn’t safe anymore.
I rip open the top drawer beside my bed, snatch my keys, and shove my phone deep into my jeans pocket before darting out of the room, momentum pitching me forward as I catch myself on the stair railing, twisting back just enough to make sure they’re gone.
The entryway is empty. Mom’s wails echo through the house, drowned by the sound of the fridge door slamming shut, Steven barking about how empty it is before striking her again when she can’t keep quiet.
Seizing the moment, I make a beeline to the front door, snatching my shoes from where they’re tossed off to the side and bolting outside with them clutched in hand, chest burning from the exertion.
I sprint hard. I sprint fast.
Never once do I glance over my shoulder, uncaring whether they’ve noticed or not. Halfway down the porch, a sharp pebble catches my bare foot, jagged edges slicing into my skin. I stumble, hurl the shoes to the ground, shove my feet in, and reach the battered Camry moments later.
Wrenching the door open, it rattles and pings as I leap inside, slamming it shut behind me. The engine sputters to life after I jab the keys into the ignition. Panic grips me, hands trembling as I fumble with the side mirror, then punch the gas pedal down.
My thoughts are a scrambled blur, emotions high as I tear out the dark driveway, headlights carving out a bright, narrow tunnel through the bleak night, blinding and endless, beckoning me to block everything else out and follow it. I don’t know where it’ll lead me. I just know anywhere is better than here.
