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And I just sit there, in the water, staring at that wall.
Family. Where life begins and love never ends.
“Here you go,” she says, unfurling her hand and producing two round, yellow pills. I pop them into my mouth and reach for the water glass in her other hand, but she pulls it back before I can grasp it. “Chew them just a little first,” she tells me. “They’ll kick in a lot quicker if you do.”
I crunch them a couple of times and let the bitter taste sit on the back of my tongue for a few seconds before she hands me the water glass and I swallow the rest of the chalky residue.
Then, she helps me out of the tub, hands me a towel, and leaves the room. I dry my body and wring out my hair, catching a glimpse of my face in the mirror. I barely recognize the person staring back at me. My nose is swollen and split in the middle, both of my eyes are black and blue. Whoever she is—this girl in the mirror—I know I’ve never seen her before. She’s not the same girl who grew up barefoot in these woods. She didn’t spend last night wholly content under the stars. She isn’t the one who put on a white dress and went to meet her friends at the pub. She isn’t Emma’s big sister. I don’t know who she is.
I walk into my dark bedroom, grab a pair of underwear from the top drawer, and step into them. Then, I open the bottom drawer and look for something to sleep in. I pull out Ty’s Nirvana shirt and examine it in my hands, my lower lip quivering, before I pull it over my head.
He won’t want me now.
I realize my arms feel heavy, like I can barely control them. I’m unsteady on my feet, and I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired.
Silent tears stream down my face as I crawl into bed. I pull the covers up to my shoulders just as my mom enters the room.
“The house is locked up,” she says. She smoothes the wet blonde hair stuck to my cheeks away from my face. “You’re safe. I am going to sleep downstairs on the couch in case he comes back.”
“Mom…what…” I start, now slurring my words, my vision becoming fuzzy. “What am I supposed to do now?”
She sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t think it will make you feel better, but it’s happened to me, too. You don’t have to tell anyone. You don’t have to tell Ty.”
“What about the police?”
“Honey…” she pauses. “We can’t go to the police. They won’t help you. I’ll help you get through this and then…we’ll just have to learn from our mistakes.”
Our mistakes?
“Goodnight,” she says, leaning down and kissing me on the forehead. She stands and makes her way toward the door.
“Mom?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“What mistakes? I didn’t make any mistakes, Mom,” I slur.
“We’ll talk about it later,” she says. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Then, she closes the door, leaving me alone in the dark.
four
Summer 1999
Idon’t know what time it is when I wake the next day, but there’s enough sun streaming through the window to make it evident that it’s no longer morning. It’s the phone that does it—wakes me up. For a couple of seconds, I forget. I forget about what happened and instinctively try to pull myself out of bed to answer it. It’s when I try to move and realize every muscle in my body aches that I remember, and then I don’t try to move again. My heart plummets into my stomach, and I lie there, watching the phone light up pink through its clear plastic exterior with each long, dull ring until it stops.
“I was afraid that would wake you,” my mom says, pushing the door open. “It was Lisa. I told her you were sick. I’m heading into work—I’ll let them know you won’t be in for a few days.”
‘And then what?’ I think, but don’t speak aloud. I don’t think I’d like whatever answer she has for me. Instead, I just stare at her—this woman who raised me, if you could even call it that—as she continues speaking and realize the girl I saw in the mirror last night isn’t the only one who’s a stranger.
“—And I asked Brittany’s parents if Emma could stay until dinner, so I’ll pick her up on the way home. She shouldn’t have to see you like this. But…I guess when she does see you, just tell her you got into another fight.”
She waits for a reply, but still, I say nothing.
She sets another one of those yellow pills on my bedside table, frowns at the empty glass next to it, and then picks it up. “I’m going to get you something to wash that down with. I’ll be right back.”
I force myself into a seated position and pick up the pill, holding it between two fingers. I don’t know what it is, but if it will make all of this stop—if it will knock me out again the way it did last night—I’ll take it.
