Page 344 of Mad Girl

“But I know it bothers you, and you deserve to know. So I’ll go ahead and tell you.”

A chill raced up my spine as I wiped the tears from my face. “Tell me what?”

Michael grabbed my hand. “When you were a baby, you were left all alone. Inside your crib. For over twenty-four hours.”

My initial reaction was to laugh—I laughed, Casey. This hadn’t happened to me. No way. “Okay, what the hell are you talking about?”

“It happened right after your first birthday. Apparently, you were strapped in something? Like a—like a bouncy seat or something? You were strapped in, then left inside your crib for over twenty-four hours. A neighbor heard you screaming and called the police. They had to bust open the front door to get to you.”

It sounded preposterous. Like something that had happened to someone else. Like a story you might hear on the news.

I didn’t believe it. Until Michael kept going, and then suddenly I knew for a fact he was talking about me.

“You were severely dehydrated. Hoarse from crying. Shaking and in shock. And you had”—he paused here, choking up, like he couldn’t bear to finish—“claw marks…all over you.”

I clapped a hand over my mouth.

“A lot of them were on your chest—like you were trying to get free of the bouncy seat, like maybe you were clawing at the straps—but you had marks all over your arms and face, too.”

The panic attack. On your birthday. All the claw marks I’d left on my chest.

“For weeks after that,” Michael said, “you had these episodes—sort of like panic attacks?—whenever your dad left the room. So he tried not to leave the room. He tried to keep you with him always, unless someone else could be there to sit with you.”

The hand against my mouth shook. “Who told you this?”

“My dad. He said it’s why you turn to pain when you’re frustrated. Or angry. Or when you feel trapped—especially when you feel trapped.”

My face collapsed. For one terrible, sinking moment, I cried. Michael squeezed my hand.

It explained everything. The real reason I hurt myself. The reason pain had always felt like a release.

This is how it had all began.

“And no one ever thought I should know? That it might be helpful for me to know this about myself?”

“My dad’s been trying to get Nic to tell you the truth for years.”

“Oh, yeah? And where was my dad when this happened?”

“New York—with your grandad. Nic thought someone was watching you.”

“Who did he think was watching me?”

“The nanny at first. But then…your mom.”

My stomach twisted. “My mom?”

“According to my dad, your mom is the one who strapped you to the seat and left you home alone.”

“No.” The girl in the pictures I saw—the girl who strongly resembled me—didn’t look like a person who was capable of something like that. My dad couldn’t have fallen in love with someone so cruel. I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.”

“Elliot, it’s true.”

“Oh, you know it’s true?” I asked shakily. “How? Because your dad told you so? Was John there?”

“Well—no. We were out of town. But when Nic called my parents, they rushed back.”

“How long have you known about this?”