"Ma? What's wrong?"
"I need you. Please. I think I—" The line went dead.
I was out of bed and grabbing my keys before my brain caught up to my body.
Now I'm driving like a fucking madman. Rain lashes at the windscreen, preventing me from seeing where I’m going.
I’m relying on pure luck and memory to drive away.
Away fromhim.
“Slow down, Crane,” Mom mumbles from the passenger seat, her hand moving to the dash. “Just take me to the police station.”
“No.”
I’ve been driving for three hours, desperate to get my mom away.
“I’ll press charges.”
“No. You’re leaving him. We’re leaving him.”
I’ve had this conversation so many times with her already, but she’s in a state of shock, I think.
Her eyes are blackened again, and her lip is split. Her hair has been cut to her scalp, and she’s thinner than I’ve ever seen her.
“Okay, just slow down; you’re scaring me.”
I’mscaringher?
My dad had sent me a message telling me to come and pick up my mom’s corpse.
My stomach is still churning with the memory of seeing her on the front porch; my dad covered in blood beside her.
“Is he dead?”
Mom sounds like she’s having a nervous breakdown, and I have to force a smile.
She’s such a fucking mess.
My beautiful mother.
“I don’t know, Ma.”
I don’t.
Mom stabbed him when he tried to strangle her; I’d arrived after.
“I’ll press charges,” Mom repeats, crossing her arms. “I will.”
I remain silent.
It’s a waste of time telling her she can’t put a dead body in prison, but I’m too tired to entertain this.
Two hours later, we need gas, so I pull into a gas station with Kai’s credit card.
I fucking hate myself, but he knows I’ve got it.
“I’ll stop off and grab us some food.”
