Page 71 of Bad Mother

Danny gave her one of his sweet, gap-toothed smiles, and she smiled back. But then his gaze moved to the bandage on her head, and his smile faltered, faded. He looked back to the drawing, moving his red crayon back and forth.

Her heart gave a painful squeeze. “Hey, Danny Boy, how about I make those doughnuts you like for dessert?”

His lips tipped, and he nodded. “Then doughnuts it is.” She hadn’t made them in a while because last time she had, Gavin had eaten one and broken out in a rash from some ingredient or another. But they were Danny’s favorite. “And then, how about we play a game?” she said, trying to infuse some optimism into her voice, hoping he’d give her another smile. Danny loved it when she played games with him, giving him all her attention. His eyes would widen with delighted happiness when she let cards cascade through her fingers like water, the skill that came so easy to her.Effortless. Second nature.“Checkers or—”

“Jesus Christ, shut that kid up.”

Violet jumped as the back door slammed. She whirled around, bringing her hand to her chest.Oh God.She hadn’t heard him coming over Gavin’s banging. She ran to her toddler, grabbed the spoon from him, and turned back around. “Roger! I didn’t know you’d be home early,” she said, her words spilling out in a rush. Her gaze flew around. Dinner wasn’t ready. The boys weren’t cleaned up, and neither was thehouse. Neither wasshefor that matter. She ran a hand over her dirty, lank hair and then picked up Gavin, propping him on her hip. She’d meant to do so much more by this point in the day, but her head ached so badly, and she still felt mildly nauseous. Out of sorts. She likely had a concussion, but she didn’t dare go to the hospital. There would just be questions, and she wasn’t up for spinning lies. Not today.

“Clearly,” Roger said, loosening his tie and looking around in disgust. At the counter, Danny sat stock still, staring at his father with wide, fearful eyes. Violet swore she felt her heart splinter. Roger’s gaze hung on his seven-year-old for a moment, and then he looked away as if Danny were nothing more than another appliance in the kitchen. “I need a goddamn drink.” He tossed his briefcase and his tie on the counter and walked into the living room.

Violet released a slow breath, then set Gavin back down and rushed to the stove, where she took the breadsticks out of the oven. Thank God they weren’t burned. Depending on what type of day Roger had had, things like burnt breadsticks could result in broken bones.

Only hers, so far. Thank God. But her worst fear was the day when hurting her wouldn’t be enough. Or he’d kill her, and then he’d turn to their sons.

“Danny, will you grab the napkins and help me set the table?”

Danny climbed down from the counter stool and headed to the drawer where they kept the linens. She’d turned back to the stove when she heard Danny let out a small gasp, but before she could turn to see what the problem was, she was grabbed harshly by her hair, her head jerking backward. She let out a shocked, guttural cry as Roger pulled her brutally and then pushed her so hard that she fell to the floor, going down on her hip, pain exploding up the left side of her body. She scrabbled backward and turned just in time to see him lunging at her. She screamed again as he yanked her up by the front of her shirt and pushed her against the counter.

He got right in her face, his hot breath gusting over her skin. “Did you think I wouldn’t see his number on the phone? Did you, whore?”

Oh God. Oh God.The phone. She hadn’t deleted his number. She’d meant to... she’d just lost track of time, and her head had ached so badly, and she’d napped along with the boys, so grateful that they’d been tired, too, and had let her rest as long as they had. “He’s my friend, Roger. Not even really that. Just my ex-boss. He was only calling to say happy birthday.”

He looked very briefly confused before his eyes flared with anger again.You used to remember my birthday, Roger. You used to buy me presents.She was wearing one now—the silver bracelet with violet amethysts he’d said had reminded him of her, his violet girl.

But apparently telling him that another man had remembered her birthday when Roger had not was a bad move. His fist tightened on her shirt, and he let out a low growl, raising his other hand and slapping her. She cried out, her head whipping to the side, hot tears coursing down her cheeks. In the background she heard Gavin crying, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Danny standing still as a statue behind his father, eyes wide, skin as pale as milk.

She couldn’t let them see this. Not again. Roger’s eyes were practically glowing with hate. He’d always despised her boss from the casino where she’d worked when they’d met, even though it was Roger’s family whoownedthe place. When Roger had swooped in and “saved” her from her life of menial labor and hardship. Of course, he’d been different then. His eyes had looked at her hungrily in her tight red vest and short, short skirt, and it’d made her feel sexy and beautiful.Special.He’d wooed her, charmed her. Because she’d been nothing more than a wide-eyed girl who saw only what he’d wanted her to see. And for whatever reason, Roger wasstilljealous of the men she’d known in that life, creating some relationship between her and Harry that didn’t exist and never had.

His hand moved to her neck, and he grabbed hold, squeezing. She gripped the counter behind her, seeking leverage, but he was too strong.

“What about those whores you used to call friends, Violet? You think I don’t know that you meet up with them? I followed you, Violet. Nothing but loser whores, and you’re just like them, aren’t you? You’d give up your children for them, is that it?”

Oh God, oh no.She’d taken such a risk. Why had she done it?Because seeing other people who used to know the old you has kept you sane. Given you hope that maybe you can be that girl again.Yes, yes, she knew why, but oh, it’d been foolish to get together with Lil and Bee.

He’d thrown a decanter at her head the night before when she’d misheard something he’d said. He was going to kill her over the fact that he knew she’d been meeting up with the girlfriends she’d had at the casino and the birthday phone call. Maybe it’d be an accident, maybe not. But surety filled her—this was the night she was going to die.

No, no, I can’t leave my boys alone. Not with him.

Her head tilted to the side, white dots clouding her vision as he squeezed harder and she fought for breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the red pasta sauce, no longer bubbling but surely hot.Scalding.She turned her face back to his, allowed him to watch her struggle to breathe, saw the enjoyment in his eyes at viewing her suffering up close. Slowly, blindly, she reached for the pot, grasped its handle, and lifted it. With the last of her waning strength, she swung it around Roger’s back and tipped it, the contents spilling out as she simultaneously whacked it into the back of his head. He let out a piercing yelp, letting go of her neck and jumping backward—away—as he shook off the burning sauce in an absurd type of dance that might have been funny if she had had the ability to laugh. Red sauce flew out around him as he shuddered, finally ripping his shirt over his head and flinging it away, his skin red and already blistering beneath.

In the time it’d taken Roger to shake off the sauce and remove his shirt, Violet had sucked in enough air that she was no longer seeingspots and grabbed the largest cleaver out of the butcher block on the counter. She held it out in front of her now, shaking with fear.

If he hadn’t looked completely murderous before, he did now. Rage rolled off him like toxic fumes.

“You want to play, bitch? Is that it?”

Gavin was wailing now, sitting on the floor near the door to the living room, and Danny had walked backward until he stood near the refrigerator, stealthily trying to slink as far from his father as possible. Next to the refrigerator, another doorway led to the back of the massive house. “G-get out, Roger,” Violet said. “Leave.”

He eyed her, his gaze moving to the knife and then back to her face. Something sinister was in his expression. Dark and malevolent, and she swallowed down her terror.Someone, help me.But there was no one to help her. In fact, there were two innocent little boys who needed her to help them. Gavin’s wail rose, calling her name—“Mama!”—and she brought her shoulders back, slicing at the air with her knife, her arm shaking so badly she almost dropped it. Roger’s mouth tipped as he silently laughed at her.

He took a step closer. “If you wanna play, then let’s play, bitch. I’m going to make it a fair game, though, because even with that knife, you don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. I could knock it out of your hand like batting away a fly.” A tremble went down her spine, the knife shaking in her hand, punctuating his statement. It was true. She knew it was true. She was so weak she was about to fall over, her head was pounding, and she was so scared her muscles had all but seized up. “I’ll give you to the count of ten to hide.” He glanced at Gavin, still crying near the door, and over to Danny, standing by the fridge, and then back to Violet, who was positioned between them both, backed up to the counter. “I’ll even let you take one of them with you and get a head start,” he said, his smile growing, though there was no humor in his eyes, only cold malice. “Pick one.”

Pick one?What was he saying? Her gaze shot from one boy to the other. Choose one of her sons to hide with? Her mind spun, trying desperately to figure a way out of this, to de-escalate the situation. But there was no doing that now. She’d enraged him, had scalded him, and was now threatening him with a knife.

She could try to run for the front door, but the neighbors were too far away, and she couldn’t run fast enough with one child, let alone two. Plus, she was injured, pain reverberating down her leg where she’d fallen. He’d be on them in a heartbeat. He’d use a rock on her head, strangle her again as she struggled in the dirt.No, no.

The cordless phone. He’d looked at the phone in the living room where she’d left it, but when he’d come back in the kitchen, he hadn’t had it with him. It must still be there. If he was going to let her hide, she could grab the phone and lock herself in the bathroom upstairs, call the police. “Pick one!” he said again, so loud it made her jump. “One!” he yelled, beginning his count.

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