“No, he didn’t, as in no he didn’t, you’re a liar, or no he didn’t, gasping in shock at the horror your daughter had to endure?” I ask, my chest tightening with every breath. “You know what, don’t even bother answering that. You’ll find a reason to justify that too.”
She lifts her hand in a sign of surrender. “Elodie, I’mnot the villain in whatever story you’ve concocted. If he truly did it, I will march down there and protect you and?—”
“And what? Stick up for yourself, for me? Why bother now when you can’t even do it here?” I snarl, the pain inside at her inability to believe me with unwavering solidarity cuts deeper than I want it to, than I wish it did.
“When I tell your father about this?—”
“He’ll be furious that he didn’t think of it sooner so he could earn some cash from the whole thing,” I bite, and she scoffs, waving her hand to dismiss me.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You are so delusional,” I scream at her, all of my energy soaring to the surface.
“All I ever want to do is protect you,” she shouts back, taking the final step between us as I shake my head.
“You don’t know how to protect me; if you did, we wouldn’t be living with your consistent mistakes.”
There are no words to fight back from her end; instead, the sting of her palm against my cheek is what I’m offered.
Stunned, I lift my hand to my cheek, feeling the skin prickle beneath my touch as I blink back unshed tears.
“Elodie, I?—”
“Don’t finish whatever it is you’re about to say. The respect I have for you right now is below zero, but even still, I refuse to lower myself to your level,” I breathe, all of the fight gone from my lungs. I can’t even bring myself to look at her.
“Elodie, I’m sorry, I?—”
The sound of the door slamming against the wall behind me makes me jolt and my back stiffens as the smell of whiskey and even more tobacco filters into the room.
I know it’s him without looking.
“Ah, the wretched bitch finally remembers where she lives.”
“I never forgot.” Turning to face him, it takes everything in me to keep my features neutral and unfazed by his presence. Last night, my mother, and now him; the last twenty-four hours haven’t exactly gone in my favor.
He looks worse than usual, and I didn’t think that was possible. Grime clings to his face and arms like a second skin, his white tank top splattered with little holes, and I can’t even tell what the original color of his jeans was.
“And where the fuck do you think you’ve been?”
“I was caught in the familiar carnage of child abuse. That’s where I was confused; I already thought I was home.” The words are like acid, burning up my throat as I blurt them out.
It’s like I’ve got a death wish because the moment the words register in my father’s mind, I know what’s coming. I don’t move, I don’t brace, I don’t even flinch.
I just let the darkness draw closer as he punches me in the side of the head.
For a drunk, he’s lightning fast.
I crumple to a heap on the floor as my father towers over me.
“Get the fuck up, whore,” he snaps, and as I press my palms into the tattered carpet square beneath my palm, I spy my mother out of the corner of my eye.
She’s no longer standing; she’s back to quivering in the armchair.
Is this what she thinks it is to protect me?
Shuffling back to my feet, I don’t even reach full height before the next blow comes.
A kick to the head, and the darkness takes me.
