Page 218 of Mad Girl

Nic’s expression softened. “Honey, please. Don’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t give you the answer you want.”

“So she didn’t mention me at all,” I said, voice breaking on the words. “She doesn’t care. My own mother doesn’t care to know how I’m doing.”

Nic clasped my wrist. “She’s selfish, sweetheart. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself. She’s a horrible person, and you’re better off without her.”

I’d been hearing some version of this statement my whole life.

We’re better off without her.

She wouldn’t have been good for you.

We don’t need her. We have each other.

And it enraged me.

“Am I, though? Not having a mother made me a horrible person, too.”

“Elliot, no⁠—”

“So horrible you keep me locked in this house.”

“What are you doing? Stop this.”

“Remember when you told me you were both young, and in college, and she didn’t think she was ready to become a mom, but you convinced her to have me, anyway?” I paused for dramatic effect. “Well, isn’t it obvious, Dad? You should’ve let her get rid of me when she had the chance.”

My dad flinched. I glanced across the table to find a horrified look on your face. Me saying that? It had upset you, too.

“I don’t ever want to hear you say that again,” said Nic, hands fisted on the table.

But I wanted to hurt my dad for lying. I wanted to hurt someone for my mom’s apathy. He’d made me promise I wouldn’t hurt myself anymore, so that someone had to be him.

“Why? I don’t belong in this world, and you agree. That’s why you keep me out of it.”

“Stop this,” Nic said, leaning forward. “Fucking stop it. I want you here. I love you. You’re everything to me, Elliot. Everything.”

“You’re such a liar, Dad. You lie to everyone, so why wouldn’t you lie to me? You’re stuck with me—that’s the truth. You’re stuck, because she ran off and didn’t take me with her.”

“That’s bullshit,” Nic said, gaze flaring. “I would never have let her take you away from me. You’re mine.”

Nic had sounded scary as shit when he said that, hadn’t he, Casey? So scary I believed him.

Still, I wanted to hurt him. Not just for this lie—for all the lies. For all the hiding and deflecting and dodging and taking. So I said, “But just think of how much better your life could’ve been without me. You could’ve been normal—like the Harrises. A wife. A couple of kids. Kids that didn’t have to be watched or sent to therapy. Kids that didn’t hurt themselves or hurt you. You could’ve been happy.”

Nic stared back at me, his expression tortured, his eyes glazed over with tears. Had I forced him to finally face the truth?

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he said, pushing his chair back. “I lied about talking to her, because I didn’t want to hurt you. I get that you need to lash out at someone right now, and she’s not here, so you’re lashing out at me. But the things you’re saying are really hurtful—not to mention completely flawed—and I won’t listen anymore. I’m done here.”

As Nic walked away, your soft gaze swept over me, nothing but concern and sympathy on your face, and I didn’t deserve that. I chewed on the inside of my mouth to hold the tears back, but they came, anyway.

“Elliot,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” I choked, rising from the table.

The next morning, when I never showed downstairs for breakfast, you came up to see why. I refused to get out of bed. Refused to speak. Refused to meet your gaze when you moved into my line of vision.