I scoff. "You really want to start with small talk?"
"No. I guess not. I know you must have a lot of questions. What do you want to know?"
I’ve had an entire day to think of all the things I want to ask, and the one question that has always niggled at me the most is the why of it all. "Why did you leave?"
Clio pinches her eyes shut and exhales a long breath. "I was pregnant."
My brows shoot up as soon as the words leave her lips. I stare at her in stunned silence.
"Rodney found out. He called me a whore among many other horrible names. He said if I didn't leave, he'd make me pay. He... he said he'd hurt the baby. I had to protect her."
Her.She has a daughter.
"I had to choose. My sister or my daughter. It was an impossible choice."
"Where did you go?"
"A friend from work helped me. She told her mom what happened, and they sent me to live with her aunt in North Carolina."
A knot lodges itself in my throat. All these years, I assumed Clio was leading a life similar to mine. Living on the streets and in shelters. Struggling to make a life for herself. That's not even close to the truth. An overwhelming wave of jealousy washes over me. While I was being starved and beaten day after day, Clio was living a simple life on the coast.
"You had a good life," I mutter accusingly.
"It wasn't easy. I was raising a daughter and working hard to make ends meet."
"Yeah. Sounds awful to have a roof over your head and food in your belly. That must've been so hard for you."
"Calliope."
Tears sting my eyes. "It's Callie. And while you were building a life without me, I was left behind with the worst people imaginable. I was beaten and bruised. Starved. Degraded. I almost died."
"I'm sorry." The words are barely audible as her own tears begin to fall. "I never meant to leave you there."
"But you did, and I…” I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose, letting this place and its stillness soothe me. “I did what I had to do to survive."
"What do you mean?"
I catch sight of Jaxon across the small patch of grass. He's leaning against the barn with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on Clio and me. He gives me a subtle nod, and that's all the strength I need to continue.
I swallow down the heady mix of guilt and anguish. "I killed him."
Clio gasps.
"He attacked me. I didn't have a choice."
Head shaking, she reaches for my hand and holds it between hers. "Callie. That's not possible."
"It is. But I'm not sorry. It was him or me."
"No. You didn't."
Clio pulls out her phone and types something. My heart lurches when she turns it around with a news article displayed on the screen.
Rodney Anderson of Montclair, New Jersey, was attacked in his jail cell on Tuesday. He was taken to a nearby hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival. Anderson was in jailawaiting trial for aggravated child abuse and assault with a deadly weapon.
There’s a mugshot of a haggard man with thin, wiry grey hair and an unmistakable scar on the left side of his neck. His eyes are cold and unyielding. I shiver at the sight.
“Rodney was alive up until two days ago, Callie. You couldn't have killed him. Whatever you did, he survived.”
