Page 8 of Rigger's Mistake

I don’t cry. Not anymore. I’m numb and have been for years. The only thing that seems to bring any emotion out of me are thoughts of my escape. At first, planning a life outside of this doublewide was just a mental diversion for when Ray came calling. Now, though, I’ve spent hours working to build a new life for myself, and somewhere along the way, I started to believe I could do this. I can get away.

I give myself one final wash before rinsing and shutting off the water. Stepping out of the shower, a brief sense of relief comes over me. Ray only comes for me roughly once a week, so right now, at this moment, I’m as far away from next time as I’m going to get, which makes me almost giddy.

I blow dry my hair, swipe on mascara, and get dressed, all while watching the time on my phone until it reads six forty-five, and I know Ray has left for work. My tense shoulders fall, and I’m safe to leave the bathroom.

“Good morning,” I chirp as I walk into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.

“Hey, honey.” Mom sits at the dining room table, eyes locked on the window to the backyard. There’s nothing out there but dirt and weeds, so she’s not doing it for the view. She’s checked out, ignoring what she knows is going on so we both can survive this hellscape.

“What are you up to today?” I ask. Pleasantries and routines are key to keeping our secrets in the dark. Bringing them to the light would be messy, and Mom can’t handle messy.

“Ray wants a roast for dinner, so I need to run to the store. What about you?” She shifts in her seat to face me, giving me a full view of what used to be my vibrant mother. Ghostly would describe her best, with dulled eyes, a sallow complexion, and dark circles. Though the circles might be from bruising in different stages of healing.

I do what I can to be home when he is so I can protect her, but I have to take at least three night shifts a week since day shifts at the diner are slow and tips are shit. We both need to make sacrifices if we’re going to get out of here. I only hope he doesn’t kill her before that happens.

“I’m meeting Olivia in a bit, and then I start work at noon.” I take a healthy sip of my scorching hot coffee, savoring the burn.

“Oh.” Mom turns her attention back out the window. My shift means I won’t be home until nine or ten tonight.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “It might be a bad night. I’m sorry.”

The abuse is always the worst on the days Ray comes for me. I wish I understood why. If he hates himself for doing it, why does he punish Mom? Why doesn’t he stop? I shake those questions from my mind. Trying to make sense of what a psychopath does is pointless.

“Oh,” she mutters. “Okay.”

My heart picks up as rationalization leaves and unwanted anger floods me. I’ve mostly talked myself into the fact that we’re both victims here, but sometimes, I want to shake her and scream in her face. Why isn’t she the one protecting me? Why didn’t she get us out of this house when he first came to my room at fourteen?

I slow my breath and remind myself of her reasons. She was broke, and my bio-dad was a bigger piece of shit than Ray if you can believe it. After he kicked us out, we had nowhere to go. It’s not right or fair, but who said life was fair?

Mom is a victim, and so am I. Soon, though, I’ll get us both out of here, and we’ll be survivors.

I dump the rest of my coffee into the sink and kiss Mom on the cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Hang in there for a little longer, okay?”

“Life feels too long sometimes.”

“I know, but it’s about to get better.” The words sound like a promise when they’re really only a dream, but I have to keep the hope alive or else, what’s the point?

Her eyes meet mine, losing their vacant look and becoming sharp with fear. “Why? What are you planning?”

“You don’t need to worry. I promise.”

Her eyes go wide. “He won’t let us go.”

“If things go how I want, he won’t have a choice.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t like this.”

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

After a pregnant pause, she whispers, “Yes.”

“Good. See you tonight.”

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