Prologue
VIOLET
There's something strange about trusting someone. You know without a shadow of a doubt that they love you endlessly. They'll do anything for you. But it's that anything that makes it...odd. Questionable.
Because love, loyalty, and devotion can alter truths.
A girl asks her mom if she's smart after making a mistake. Her mom tells her she's the smartest girl in the world. But the girl knows that isn't true because she literally just messed up in front of her mom.
Did her mom lie to spare her feelings? Or, did her mom tell her the truth?
See? Perception is everything.
I'd love to say, of course the little girl's mom truly believed that, and she may have, but the little girl might never believe those words because her mom loves her enough to lie. Fib. Withhold the truth. Sugarcoat.
What do the people who love usnotsay?
And how do I stop filling in the blanks?
This isn't a simple math problem or a bad choice I made with my hair. I love my hair. Long, blonde with purple streaks, it's awesome. I love it, even when I don't love myself.
My bad choices go far beyond the norm. The guilt of my decisions drags me down every day no matter how fast I've tried to run from them. I've found that there's no place far enough to hide either.
I've taken my love of traveling and adventure and morphed it into a way to escape my issues. But they've followed me. Or, more accurately,Iam the issue.
No matter how many times my mom attempts to reassure me that my guilt is misplaced, I don't quite believe her. Because she loves me more than anything in the world.
She would never admit it was my fault that she was kidnapped and held captive for the better part of a week.
Seven years later, Blue Bennett, my adoptive mom and cousin by blood, has moved on. Why can't I? Why, when she tells me I did nothing wrong, do I narrow my eyes and try to read behind her lie?
Because itisa lie. Itwasmy fault.
No matter how many times I reread the messages she sent me when she was in the hospital all those years ago, I can't quite accept them.
I remember it as if it were yesterday. Mom was slumped in the hospital bed missing four fingernails, unable to speak because she was almost strangled to death, and needing quiet because of her concussion.
Text after text of her trying to make me feel betteronly made me feel worse and has added to my guilt every time I think about it. I should have been coddlingher. Not the other way around.
As I reread our messages in an attempt to finally believe her words, I only feel worse. I don't think I'll ever fully trust my mom's words.
Mom
TEXT THREAD FROM 7 YEARS AGO
Mom : I'm okay, V. Please don't worry about me. The doctor says in the next few weeks everything should start feeling normal again.
Me: I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have told you what was happening. That man...I didn't know he knew you. I swear. I'm so sorry.
Mom : Violet. In no way do I blame you. That man was sick and was searching for me. Nothing would have stopped him.
Me: Just because you don't blame me doesn't mean it's not my fault. I should have told you sooner. I was just...I don't know.
Mom : V...I love you so much. If you need to hear that I forgive you, then I absolutely forgive you. But please know that this was my past coming back to haunt me. You are not to blame.
Mom : Look at me.
Mom : This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.
