“Look at her,” he says, but now he’s behind me.
My mother stands in the center of the room, laughing. Free. Unguarded. The most beautiful sound I know.
For some people, beauty is what kills them. I didn’t understand that at ten years old. I understand it now.
“She betrayed us,” he murmurs in my ear. “She embarrassed me. She failed by having you. Keeping you a secret. Your existence was an abomination.”
Something moves behind her. I feel it before I see it.
The shadow.
The blade.
“Watch.”
She turns. He is there, the shadow in the corner of a dream just before it becomes a nightmare. The knife opens her throat in one clean motion.
The blood flows like a dam breaking.
It’s sudden, absolute, and impossible to stop.
I run for her.
The ringing in my ears drowns everything.
My screams.
The sound of her body hitting the wood floor.
I reach her, but she’s already gone. The light already out of her eyes.
My stepfather grabs me by the hair and hauls me back. “You’ll always pay for her sins, Saint. Your father doesn’t want you. I don’t want you. You are nothing but the proof of what she was – a whore that kept secrets .”
Rage blinds my vision and all I can see is red.
The memory dissolves.
I’m back in the white room with the acrylic glass and the piece of shit on the other side of it, watching my face for a crack.
I smile.
“You know,” I say, very calmly, “you’re incredibly brave behind that glass. Why don’t you come in here, and I’ll tell you everything I remember.”
The color drains from his face.
That’s his curse.
We both know he’s afraid of the thing he hates the most.
Me.
Amy
Three Years Ago
The first time Roman hits my father, I feel nothing but satisfaction. Like the touch of cold water after miles of heat.
After the third blow, I don’t move to stop him. I stand in the kitchen doorway and watch, and the stillness in me is the part that will stay longest.
