Page 77 of Shatter

Probably. But she always got her way, so I've never seen this side of her.

I'd been planning to drive to her house today, anyway, after talking with Whitmoore, so this is just speeding up the process.

I think about Harrison the entire drive home. I think about all of the steps I need to do to get back to him. Because that's the plan. Undo everything with my mother first, and then make my way back to him for good.

I trail behind a silent Chris and a still bickering Athena as we walk into the house and living room. She hasn't stopped talking since Harrison's front door closed. It started with 'how could I do this to her?' and then turned into 'controlling the public damage' and now she's onto what to do if no one wants to hire me anymore. That actually is a good side-effect of being caught with a scarred older man in public.

I pull out my phone and search social media for my name. The picture of us is a good one. I look happy, and protected. All I see is a couple in love. I save it.

"I want to see the contract establishing the conservatorship."

I've decided that direct and to the point is the best way to go with her. If I ask her questions about it, she'll lie through her teeth - anything to maintain control.

She stills and I know I've caught her.

"Oh, honey. You don't need to worry about any of that. Marty had his lawyers look it over to make sure it was the best."

"I want to see the contract establishing the conservatorship."

She won't meet my eyes.

"You know. I'm not sure I even have a copy of it anymore. I probably put it in the safety deposit box."

She's shifty, moving a coaster on the side table before moving it back.

"That's fine. But I want you to listen closely to me right now."

Reluctantly, her eyes find mine.

"I'm done acting. I'm done modeling. I'm done being Melody Snow. And you are no longer going to be making any decisions for me."

Athena's eyes bulge, before she clears her throat.

"I know that acting out with Harrison was a cute little rebellion but maybe you're just burnt out. Why don't I arrange a stay at a spa for you to recover."

"I'm done acting. I'm done modeling..."

She waves her hand dismissively at me and interrupts. "I know you think you're done with those things, sweetheart, but you’ve had a very difficult month. You’re overwhelmed. That’s understandable.” Her voice is sickeningly sweet, and it's how I know she's lying.

“I’m not overwhelmed.”

“You ran away from home, moved in with a man nearly twice your age, and now you want to throw away a career you’ve spent twenty years building.” She gives me a sad little smile. “That sounds overwhelmed to me.”

My jaw clenches. She's always done this, I realize. Framed things in a way that paints me as a child and invalidates my real feelings. She's gaslighting me. Once I identify the tactic she's using, instead of the words, they lose their power. I know I'm not overwhelmed. Her telling me I am doesn't change reality.

She crosses one leg over the other and studies me.

“What exactly do you think happens if you stop acting?”

"I start the rest of my life!" I shouldn't engage with her, but I'm frustrated at her attempts to manipulate the situation.

“You don’t just wake up one morning and decide you don’t feel like being Melody Snow anymore.”

“I can if I want to.”

“And then what?”

I glare at her.