Chapter 1
Violet
Cora
Present Day
Myheadandbodyfeel like they’ve drained themselves of all fluids, function, and life. I have no reason to exist. I am a shell. I am a husk.The physical darkness of my bedroom, with its heavy drapes pulled tight, is nothing compared to the darkness inside me.
I cannot muster the energy to punish my body with exercise. There is no energy to eat. All that exists is my ability to sleep; at least then I can turn off the main breaker to my self-disgust and all-consuming sadness.
The pillow beneath my face is soaked from crying for hours on end. I refuse to change it for the one right next to me, wanting the uncomfortable wetness to remind myself how terrible I am. I should be uncomfortable. I deserve to feel like shit.
What kind of mother forgets her baby’s birthday? A piece of human garbage, that’s who.
Clutching Violet’s swaddle and tiny beanie from the hospital close to my heart, both stained with a rusty brown color from blood and birthing fluids, I inhale the scent that no longer lives. I’ve held these items so many times that her essence no longer lingers. Replaced by mine, I suppose.
She can’t be replaced. She can’t be erased—yet that’s exactly what happened. I let her slip away from my mind.
There are exactly two people in this world who were supposed to give her everything. Who were supposed to keep her alive; if only just the memory of her.
Supposed to.
Theo called me last year to simply say it was her birthday, and that he missed me.
Me. Not her. Not the child he decided he didn’t want.
I wanted her!
Iwanther.
I wanther.
But there was no call from him this year. No text. But that’s fine. That fits his feelings perfectly, doesn’t it?
My stomach churns not only from disgust about Theo and my neglectful self, but from starvation as well. I haven’t eaten since… I can’t remember. I’m not entirely sure what day it is or what time. I turned my phone off so that nothing would distract me from wallowing. From repenting. From encasing myself in only the memory of her. She deserves nothing less than my undivided attention right now. Feeding myself means I would have to think about getting up, and even that simple task is too much.
George lays perched on my head, her belly like a heating pad that refuses to turn off. She hasn’t moved from my bed, not even to eat. But when I feel a sudden jolt, she launches herself, claws digging into my scalp for leverage as she scurries away. I then realize I have fallen asleep again because there is a worried-looking Marco stalking towards me. I didn’t even hear him come in.
I blink away the fogginess of my sleep-drunk haze and see his chest heaving as his long stride eats up the distance between the now open door and my bed.
“Baby!” he exclaims breathlessly as he sinks his body next to mine and kicks off his shoes while never diverting his stare from my face.
“She’s there?” I hear a familiar voice sound from his speaker phone.
Marco wraps his big arms around me and I can’t stop the tears from falling again. “Yes. I have her.”
“I’m almost there. Cora baby, I’m coming.” Jay’s proclamation breaks me even further. I don’t deserve this kind of attention. This kind of support. I’m a worthless human who can’t keep her life in order enough to remember her own daughter.
Marco rests his chin on the crown of my head, smoothing his hand over my knotted mass of hair. “We’re here, sweetheart. We’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” Too stunned and too touched by his kindness, I full-on ugly cry into his broad, sweatshirt-covered chest. I have questions for him—for them—but I can’t form words.
I keep crying, surprising myself that I even have enough hydration in my body to produce more tears until I hear Jay’s stomping feet sprint up the old wooden stairs and run into my bedroom.
With a look that tells me he’s on the verge of crying himself, he throws his dress coat in the corner and launches himself at me. He swiftly sidles up behind me and perches himself on his elbow so he can spoon me while relentlessly kissing my tear-streaked face. He peppers his lips over my eyelids, my cheeks, the corners of my whimpering mouth. With his hand cupping my turned face, I’m painfully aware of the ache in my jaw from trying and failing to fight my unstoppable sobbing.
“We’re here, baby. It’s okay. You’re not alone. Let it all out.”
Why are they here?
