A tiny seed that germinated and was nourished under his brutal, freeing hand. And now it’s broken, crushed and trampled under his heavy boot.
Stupid, stupid girl.
You didn’t give him your name, either.
I almost laugh out loud at the thought that pops into my head, my subconscious trying to find yet more ways to absolve the man who’s come to mean far too much to me over the past eighteen days.
Is that really all it is?
No, I didn’t give him my real name. But I did give him something to call me by, which is more than I got from him.
And I liked being Juno. It was a relief to be someone else for a little while; a girl without a tragic past or an uncertain future.
Juno - the Roman goddess who is said to protect women and represent battling through adversity to protect family, while still maintaining dignity and strength. That’s why I chose it.
What a fucking laugh.
But it was better than a distancing, generic ‘Sir’.
The bus rumbles on, carrying me further from him, from the hope I’d started believing in, and closer to Reggie and his threats.
I shake my head like I can shake off the thoughts. I wish it were that easy.
But what I really need to do is make a plan to get out of this mess we’re in.
First, I need to get to mom. Tell her the truth. Tell her I believe Dad was murdered by the mob for not paying his debts, and that the same will happen to us - or worse - if we don’t find the money, which is impossible now, or just disappear.
I’ve protected her from it all this time, but I can’t do it anymore, because I have to leave, and I can’t do that without her.
The bus lurches to a stop, jolting me from my thoughts. I blink, realizing we've reached the end of the line. With a sigh, I haul myself up and stumble off onto the sidewalk.
My feet automatically carry me to Mom's workplace, a dingy diner on the outskirts of town. The neon sign flickers weakly in the grey afternoon light. What had started as a beautiful day has clouded into something dull and overcast with black storm clouds brewing. Fitting; almost like it reflects the aspects of my life today.
Through the smudged windows, I can see her shuffling between tables, coffee pot in hand.
Tears well in my eyes. She shouldn’t be doing this. She’s still not fully recovered from her cancer treatments, but she’s aware of the debts… some of them, at least.
For a moment, I hesitate. How can I burst her bubble of blissful ignorance about dad’s dealings with the mob? I know she’ll feel guilty. He borrowed the money for her, so she could get treatment and live. But there's no choice now. We're in too deep.
The bell jingles as I push open the door. Mom looks up, her smile faltering as she takes in my appearance.
"Linnea? What are you doing here, honey? And what happened to your face? Did someone at your new job do this to you?" Anger clouds her face. Yeah, I told her I had a temporary live-in post that paid well, which was true enough.
I have no idea what she’ll think if I tell her what I was really doing. I never want her to know I sold myself and my soul to get us out of trouble. Telling her about dad will be bad enough.
I force a wan smile. "Can we talk? It's important."
She frowns, glancing at the mostly empty diner. "Give me five minutes to clock out. My shift is already over."
Which means she was picking up a bit of overtime to try and help out, especially since I haven’t been at home to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.
Those five minutes stretch like eternity as I perch on a cracked vinyl stool, drumming my fingers drumming on the discolored but spotlessly clean counter. I’m a bag of nerves. Does Reggie know where Mom works?
My heart thuds heavily, dread filling me at the conversation to come. How do I even begin to explain everything?
Finally, Mom hangs up her apron and grabs her purse. "Alright, honey. Let's go."
We step out into the gloomy afternoon. The air feels leaden, matching the weight in my chest. Mom loops her arm through mine as we walk, the contact both comforting and guilt-inducing.
