Page 241 of Wicked Brutal

“The chicken.”

Her hand covers her mouth. “The perfume.”

I forgot about that. She didn’t.

“All those smells suddenly making you sick. You barely ate at dinner for weeks. You were exhausted all the time.”

“Mom.”

“And your clothes.” Her eyes drop to my sweater. “You stopped wearing half your clothes.”

My heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

She looks at me. Really looks at me. “How long?”

I can’t answer.

“Ally.”

Fear climbs into my throat. Dad isn’t here. His car is gone. I watched him leave. I’m still terrified to say it inside this house.

Mom sees that. Her face breaks. “Oh, sweetheart.”

I look toward the foyer. Nothing. Still, when I finally answer, it’s barely a whisper. “About eleven weeks.”

Mom closes her eyes. A tear slips down her cheek. Then they fly open again. “Tonight. He shook you.”

“The baby’s okay.”

“How do you know?”

I don’t. Not after tonight.

Apparently my face says it. Mom goes white. “No.”

“I think it’s okay.”

“You think?”

“I don’t have any pain.”

“Ally—”

“I’m not bleeding.”

She grabs my hands. “Did he hit your stomach? When he shook you—”

“I don’t know.”

My voice breaks. And there it is. The thing I’ve been refusing to let myself feel since Dad grabbed me. “I don’t know if the baby’s okay.”

Mom’s face crumples. So does mine. She pulls me into her. Carefully. One arm around my shoulders, the other cradling the back of my head, avoiding every place Dad left his hands on me.

And I fucking lose it. “I tried to protect it.”

“I know.”

“When he grabbed me, I tried—”