Page 69 of Fall onto me
“No, fucking explain!” I stomp in her direction, getting a foot away from her.
The pink liquid in her glass teeters back and forth, as if she’s going to pass out. She doesn’t get to go unconscious and pretend that this never happened. I didn’t get to do that.
Grace barrels in through the open door, sighing in relief when she sees me. Mom tenses up and sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry,” she cries.
Grace ignores her and wraps me in a hug that I try to pull away from. “You have to hear me out,” she pleads.
I nearly don’t allow it. There’s a pull to run out the door, but the magnetic force to find out the truth roots me into place. “Five minutes,” I tell her, and I don’t plan on staying for a second longer.
“When you first came to the school, I nearly quit. When I saw your name was on my roster, I had to take that week off before I could face you.” She’s talking fast, trying to get her truth out there. “I watched you from afar, through social media and on the occasional years your mom would bless me with a Christmas card. I only got little glimpses of your life, Skyler.” Her hand caresses my face, similar to how my mother should be handling me right now. “You all looked so happy, the epitome of perfection.”
A tear rolls down my cheek. “They would starve me out for those perfect photos.”
I can’t blame Grace. I really can’t. My life was made to look perfect to anyone outside. I want to forgive her, but my heart is heavy with betrayal. She could have told me when she found out the truth.
“I thought it was because you had a good life, and your mom wanted to keep you away from anything less than perfect. But all that time, it was you who was being held to an impossible standard by her.” She’s talking like mom isn’t sitting right here. The bond Grace and I have isn’t solely from a random friendship; she’s my blood.
And my blood is boiling.
Mom stands up now, firm. “I can’t forgive myself either. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but there are things you don’t know, and I had to protect you from growing up in that life!”
“What life?” I scoff, looking at her. “A life in that beautiful home?”
She bows her head, “It wasn’t …”
“Calm down,” Grace tells me. “Hear her out.”
This isn’t her battle, and it’s not her place to excuse her. “No, I have no reason to.”
My mom whispered, “I thought you would have a better life here.”
“How did that fucking work out for me, Mom?” I scream, getting in her face, feeling much too like my father. I raise my hand, not to strike, but to shout to the gods for an explanation that will calm my thundering heart.
And she cowers.
I sink back, the anger drifting off my body like a heavy sheet of rain at the sight of her cowering. “Mom?”
Her shoulders shake with timidness. This put together woman, with her diamonds and designer dresses, perfect hair and perfect life, is cowering. “Lift your shirt,” I tell her.
She looks up at me, pleading, “Skyler.”
“Do it.” I strain to rein in the anger, but I manage with a whisper. “Do it.”
She holds her hands at her sides, refusing. I curl my fingertips underneath her shirt and lift, showcasing her purple and black stomach.
Grace has a look of horror on her face, taking in the marks on her sister.
“I left and he started hurting you.” It’s not justice. No one deserves to be hit, even though she let it happen to me. No one deserves this.
She shakes her head. “No Skyler,” I take a seat on the couch, trying not to faint. “He started with me.”
A million things dance into my mind,
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t deserve it. I thought …” She takes a sip of her wine. “I thought I was doing good by you, but then Kent … he was powerful. I never imagined he would hurt you, but then it started, and I tried to run. I tried.”
She shows me a gash along her back; it’s deep and welted. I realize I’ve never seen her without a one piece on that would cover it. I should have known, should have realized that when he was always gifting her with pearls, my father’s go-to for when he would hurt me a little too much, that she was living a deeper hell than I could have imagined.
“He stripped away every ounce of money I had, and yes of course I could buy nice things and lavish jewelry on his card, but on your tenth birthday after I had spent a year buying and selling to a pawn shop, he found out and I nearly died from the beating. I wanted to get you out, to keep you safe. I had saved enough for a lawyer and a down payment on an apartment, but he always had more money and threatened to send me away while he kept you, so I had no choice but to stay. If I didn’t act perfect for guest, or him, or you … I would be punished.