Page 20 of Deadly Sacrifice

“Is a big boy and he’ll have something to say about it, I’m sure.” Shrugging, I settle back into my pillows and say, “Send him my way if it’s a problem.”

***

The following day, my phone rings as I’m walking out of my last class. It’s been a long day, though, and I’m really not in the mood for whoever is calling, so I ignore the vibrations in my back pocket, intent on getting back to the sorority house to shower before I dive in on more homework.

My phone stops ringing, only to start up again seconds later.

Irritated, I slow my pace in the busy hallway of Lunar Hall, grabbing my cell from my pocket and frowning at the screen. Mom lights up as the call goes on, and I’m instantly sick to my stomach.

Without looking, I cut across the hall, wincing in apology when I nearly bump right into some girl. I keep walking, phone clutched in my hand, until I find a sort of quiet alcove by a tall window. It’s as much privacy as I can hope to get on campus this time of day, and I can’t put off answering much longer. Mom only gets a few chances to call me, and if I miss it, I have no clue when I’ll get to hear her voice again.

Tucking myself back against the window, I take a slow breath and then answer the phone with a nervous, “Hi, Mom. How are you?” I never know what the answer to that question will be. Is she stable on her meds lately? Is she deep in delusion again? I feel like vomiting while I wait for her to respond.

“I’m good, baby. Real good. How is school?” she asks me, affection and longing thick in her voice.

We haven’t seen each other in a long time, and we only talk on the phone maybe once a week at best. Sometimes I feel guilty for not visiting her at the group home she’s been in since the car accident, but every time I consider it, I get dizzy and nauseous, just like I felt when the car was flipping over itself on that freeway.

I don’t blame my mom. Not really. She’s sick, and had she been in her right mind that day, she never would have put me at risk like that. But I also can’t forgive her. Not completely. Because one wrong move, one weak day where I might give her another chance, and I could find myself in an even worse situation.

I miss her so much, but I can’t stand to get too close. It’s probably the deepest, sharpest pain I’ll ever experience. That’s part of the reason being here and getting answers for her is so important. I might force distance between us, but at least I can show how much I still love and care for her. At least I can try to get some answers and peace of mind of both of us.

My eyes water, but I blink furiously until I force the emotion back down. I smile, even though she obviously can’t see me, but it helps keep my voice upbeat. “School’s going good! It’s been so much fun so far,” I lie.

My mom laughs softly, and I can picture the way her nose always used to crinkle when she’s happy. “I’m glad to hear it, Prudence.” She pauses when someone in the background asks her a question, the quick conversation muffled, and then she continues. “What’s the name of your college, again? Peg is asking, but I can’t remember for the life of me,” she muses.

It takes several thick swallows not to stutter out my answer and make the lie obvious. “Cleary University. It’s just a small school. I found it by chance and then ended up loving the campus.”

Mom hums. “Thank goodness you’re safe,” she says with a heavy voice. “I wish I had found a little college off the beaten track. Maybe then things would have been alright, you know?”

Fuck me, my eyes burn with sorrow again, and this time when I try to blink it away, a tear slips free. “Yeah, I know, Mom,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice even. “But maybe you’ll get some peace one day. You never know,” I offer softly, closing my eyes and turning further into the corner so passing students can’t see me silently fall apart.

“Not likely, my sweet girl. My doctors think I’m crazy. Well—“ She laughs again, but this time it’s a hollow sound. “I suppose I am. But everyone thinks I made it all up. And as long as those false memories continue to take over my dreams, I’ll never get peace.”

My throat is too tight to say anything in response. I want to tell her that I’ll figure it all out. Whether her experiences at Blackwood were real or not, I’ll find out and hopefully whatever answer I can give her will be enough. That maybe then, we can try to move on from all this and rebuild our relationship.

But I think she’d spiral into another episode and lose her phone privileges if she knew I was attending her old college and chasing years of delusions for a sliver of truth. It’s not worth the risk, so I bite my tongue, clear my throat, and finally choke out, “I have to go, Mom, alright? I’ll talk to you next week, though.”

Mom sighs deeply, and the sadness in her voice nearly undoes me when she says, “Alright, Prudence. I love you. I’ll call when I can.”

“Love you,” I reply before hanging up.

I give myself a few minutes to compose myself and wipe my cheeks dry, and then I turn around, intending to rush back to my room for the rest of the day. Only when I turn around and step into the hallway, I literally run right into another student.

And not just any student.

Tousled black hair, amber eyes, and a crooked grin stare back at me while I stutter out my apology, trying to keep my gaze down to make my recent tears less obvious. I hate showing my weaknesses, and the emotions that surround my relationship with my mom are a big weakness while I’m here. I can’t let people know the truth. I don’t know who I can honestly trust.

Creed licks his lips, looking like he’s gearing up to say something flirty, but the expression quickly falls when he actually takes a second to look down at me. He frowns, reaching out to put his hand around the back of my neck. He doesn’t pull me in, he just rests his palm there and tilts my face up, his thumb stroking my skin in soothing patterns. And for some reason, I don’t try to step away. In fact — and I’ll deny this later — I lean into his warm touch and find comfort there.

“What happened?” he asks softly, quietly so no one walking by can hear.

I bite my lip to keep it from trembling. Doesn’t he know that asking a question like that to someone who’s obviously upset only makes it worse? I can’t answer. I can’t be sure that my voice will be steady enough to tell a convincing lie. Instead, I shake my head, avoiding his intense stare.

Creed studies me as the two of us stand in silence, and it only makes me feel more vulnerable. “What can I do to make it better?” he asks next.

The question shocks me enough to look up at his face to make sure this isn’t some joke or something. I keep expecting Creed to show his cruel side, just like Asher has done, but so far, Creed hasn’t been anything short of kind, flirtatious, and determined to get to know me. And there’s something about that I really like.

“Will you just walk with me? I’m headed back to Greek row,” I answer. I’m not sure why I ask, except the thought of being alone right now makes me feel cold and empty all over. And Creed’s presence is like a heated blanket, curling tight around me when I need it most.

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