Page 15 of Crash into me

Worry bubbles in my throat. “Did she tell Foster?”

“No, only me. It’s valiant what you’ve done for Sophie, but Adeline couldn’t protect one child while leaving another vulnerable.”

I hold onto her hand, firm. “You can’t say anything. You can’t.”

She nods, frowning. “I know, dear, I’m just here to keep you safe.” Her eyes are glossy, but she feigns a bright smile just for me. “Now, is there anything I can do to make things better?”

My whole life, she’s taken care of me, but I feel guilty for asking her to do anything. She loved that daycare; she started herself a little business and I’ve screwed that all up for her.

“Skyler?”

I guess I zoned out. “Huh?”

“Anything you need?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to bother you.”

She laughs, her wrinkled cheeks bouncing. “You don’t ever bother me, dear. What is it?”

“Groceries. They’re making me eat like a bunny.”

“Done.”

* * *

I returnto Mom as Rita retreats inside. She rubs the bronze oil into her skin. I can tell she wants to talk with me, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it. “I know you’re not happy about any of this.”

I want to reply with a snarky comment, an obvious laugh, or something … anything but silence. But a lump has risen in my throat at her acknowledging my feelings. I simply agree with a nod.

“You have to take the good with the bad,” she tells me, “You know, aside from your father’s …” She looks away. “We’re very lucky here.”

I stand to head inside, unable to continue the charade any longer today.

“Skyler?” Mom gently touches my arm.

I turn back to look at her. “Yes?”

Her eyes roam my scabbed skin, my yellowed bruises, my cheek that she saw get slapped the other day. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

From her eyes and the tone in her voice, I can’t tell if she’s talking about the crash or the abuse I’ve been through at her husband’s hands.

Either way, it makes anger rise in me because at any point, she could have stopped this.

“Like you said, Mom, we’re very lucky here.” I pull away from her, turning to head inside. I should have known this day would end with bullshit. “Thank you for everything.”

6

It’s night now, and I haven’t left the room since I went in. I’m like a princess locking herself away.

Or a death row inmate.

I’m beginning to think I don’t need to leave my room, or this wing of the house. I could just get Rita to bring me food and serve my prison sentence here in solitary confinement.

This is all so hard, and I know I’m making it harder by isolating myself here and not telling anyone who cares the truth, but it would come at such a great cost that I truly believe what I’m doing is right.

I’m moving day by day, hour by hour, trying to belong somewhere I don’t fit. Squeezing myself into a shape like a puzzle piece that goes to an entirely different image.

Mrs. Rita is going to the store tomorrow, and I can’t wait to eat real food. My stomach’s been growling all day, a reminder of where I am again.