Page 65 of The Devil

“Oh, baby, baby,” I coo as soon as I walk in. She’s sitting up in her cot bed, looking red in the face from crying so hard. My poor girl; this isn’t the life I wanted for you, but now I’m stuck.

As I scoop her up inside my arms, I begin bobbing her up and down while whispering soft words of comfort. Sniffing her downy hair and feeling her settle on my chest, all of the pain from Evan’s hands melt away. Jess is my rock, even if she has no idea about it, she is what gets me through the day.

As soon as she falls back to sleep, I carefully lay her back down and pull up her cover. I deliver a kiss to her soft skin, then tiptoe back downstairs. The mess of the dinner I had spent hours cooking is still all over the floor, and the walls, so I make my way to the sink to begin running hot soapy water. I need to keep busy, to focus on anything other than the fact my life is a complete mess.

My phone begins buzzing on the countertop, it’s Mom calling to see how I am, like she does at least five times a day. Seeing her name shine up at me instantly brings a lump to my throat.

“Hey,” I murmur, trying to hide the emotion in my voice.

“Helena, everything ok?” she asks, even though she can already tell everything isnotok. “It isn’t, is it?”

“No,” I admit on a whimper as that lump suddenly releases without me meaning it to.

“Tell me, I’m alone,” she says, sounding ready to hash this out. “Is he there?”

“No, he left,” I cry, “after he threw my dinner across the room.”

“Do you need me to come over?” she asks, even though I can hear crowds of people in the background of one of their soirees. I want her more than anything else in the world, however, I can’t tell her that. Besides ruining her evening, Dad would become suspicious, and he’s the last person I want to come over, spouting his arrogant, misogynistic crap about a situation he knows nothing about. In fact, I rarely want to see him anymore; I hold him in part responsible for the life I now lead.

“No, honestly, I’ll be fine,” I lie, and I know she’ll be able to hear the deception in my voice. “He’s gone, so I’m going to clear up and go to bed.”

“Helena, I don’t like this,” she says, sounding beyond concerned for me.

“Mom, if you come and he finds you here, it will only make things worse for me,” I argue before hitting her with the winning statement. “You know I can’t risk him taking Jess, it would kill me.”

“Ok, but your father and I will come by in the morning, so you make sure he knows that, Helena,” she says with conviction in her voice.

“Ok,” I sigh, “have a good night.”

“You call me if you need me, Helena,” she says like it’s an order.

“I will,” I reply sadly. “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight, my baby girl,” she says sadly, “I love you and I’m proud of you...always.”

“Ok,” I whimper, “I gotta go, Mom, I just gotta… Goodnight.”

As I put the phone down, and wipe my eyes while breathing out long and slow, I turn to see the faucet has been running all this time and water is now flowing all over the floor.

“Shit!” I gasp as I rush over to turn off the water. “Great, just what I need.”

As I move in robotic motions, trying to not think about the real problems in my life, I walk over to get the mop, only to end up slipping on the remnants of the dinner I had spent hours preparing and making for my husband. As I land on the floor with a thud, my vision turns hazy, until eventually, I see nothing but darkness.

“Helena, wake up!”

“Cameron? Are you still here?” I mumble. Cameron had shown up after I had managed to knock myself out. I don’t remember much but I know he sent me to bed and told me Jess was safe and sound. The memory of which allows me to slump with relief. As long as she’s ok, everything is ok.

“Cameron? Why the fuck would your shithead brother be here?”

I release a long sigh, realizing who the voice belongs to. Usually when he returns after an epic temper tantrum, he passes out without a word. The following morning is a guessing game; will he pretend nothing happened? Or will he continue trying to make me feel like the villain?

“Where’ve you been?” I ask with a yawn, my head still trying to make a decision as to whether it’s going to have a full-blown migraine or not.

“Out,” he snaps as he slides into bed next to me, smelling like a brewery and smoke. Enough smoke to make my eyes water. What’s worse is he’s now trying to climb on top of me. I’m pretty sure he’s taken something stronger; his eyes are literally spinning.

“I need to fuck off the bad sex I just had.”

“Wait, what?” I gasp. Did he really just say what I think he just said?

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