“You seemed to know about us. When did you find out?”
I take another drink and admit, “I found out when I was five. My mother was having a fight with our father. She wanted him to leave your mom, but he wouldn’t, because he couldn’t let people know he was fucking a Bianchi. He said it was important to be married for power.”
Bones shakes his head.
“Yeah, it’s how I ended up married. He believed that until the day he died.”
Reaper asks, “Is your mom alive?”
I swallow down the rest of my drink and nod.
“Until I fucking kill her, yes.”
They are all known to be a close knit family, so I’m not surprised by the shocked expressions across from me.
I explain, “She let a lot of shit go down with Padre and Frank. Never once did she try to stop the never ending abuse. The fucking rape. One day she’ll pay for that.”
More shock registers on their faces, but Reaper’s is different. It’s not shock, but pain. Visceral fucking anguish stares back at me with my face, and it’s hard to look at. It reminds me of the time when I was twelve. I fight the flashback, as I always do.
‘One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight.’
I lose the fight once again.
This time it wasn’t my mouth, but my ass. I stand staring at the reflection in the mirror, as the anger travels inside me.
‘You’re fucking weak, Raven. You didn’t even fight. Sick fucker. You probably wanted it.’
“No!” I scream at the mirror, and slam my fist into the glass.
“I hate you. You’re a fucking loser, and I’m going to kill you.”
I breathe heavily, staring at myself through the broken mirror. Blood runs from my knuckles down my arms, and gives me a strange sense of satisfaction.
Reaper’s voice snaps me out of the past.
“Did Frank hurt you too?”
I glance up at him, and admit it with a nod.
“We will leave you two alone,” Bones says, while motioning for the others to get up, and they walk into the kitchen.
“They didn’t have to leave. I’m not ashamed of it. It happened, and I deal with it.”
Reaper shakes his head, like this is unbelievable to him.
“It might’ve been more for my benefit than yours. I still have a hard time talking about it. When I was a kid, Frank raped me with a lead pipe. My brothers found out much later. Padre wanted it kept secret. He was always ashamed of me.”
I force down the bile rising in my throat, at the thought that we both went through this.
“Did Padre watch with you too? And fucking do nothing?”
Reaper’s expression goes from pain to shock and revulsion.
“No. Of course he didn’t watch.”
I can tell our stories are not the same, just with his reaction alone.
“He watched it? You’re fucking kidding, right?”
