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“Really, Remi. I have what I need. I have you back.”
I just wish I could remember you so all our amazing memories could dilute the strength of the bad ones in my mind.
Pouted lips landed on my nose and placed another delicate kiss. “Come on, I’ll take you to bed for a few hours before we head out.”
And that was exactly what he did, scooping me into his arms. I needed no encouragement to hold onto him, both arms tightening around him so he could carry his coffee in one hand and me in the other.
Chapter 21
Remi
“Ilove you, Momma. Will you wake up? Please, will you wake up?”
My momma didn’t stir on her satin sheets, all crumpled on the bed beneath her. The drugs from the needles protruding in her arm had knocked her out.
I didn’t like the feel of this bedding between my fingers.
Her underwear was down around her ankles, red like the sheets I was still feeling for some reason, like the stains that would be in my own tonight. Her high heels hung off her feet and showcased nail polish in a color I didn’t like. The same color was on her bitten-down fingernails, chipping off. The color matched the weird thing between her legs, making a buzzing sound.
I shook her arm, my small fingers wrapping around her bicep. She didn’t budge, barely grunted to express her irritation.
The winter sun no longer peeped through half-closed drapes, and night pushed blackness into the sky. The clock on her bedside table told me it was close to eight. It was the only time I knew, thanks to my lack of schooling. I remembered it because Momma said they came at eight, and they always did, never a minute late.
The noise of children echoed in, screams of joy and terror as they celebrated Halloween.
I pulled my superhero mask down over my face and closed my eyes, hoping I had the strength of the hero I impersonated. I needed it to get me through the night. I opened them. A minute ticked away on the clock. One minute left.
I heard the footsteps outside, heavy and louder than the gentle pat of small trick-or-treaters.
They were here.
“Momma...? Momma, please. Please don’t let them hurt me again.” I tried once more. Nothing.
The little plastic thing attached to the needle in her arm had some liquid left, and it helped her sleep.
I could never sleep after these men came. I was always too sore even to try.
I pulled the needle out. A bead of her blood dripped from the pointed tip.
I feared the pain, but it didn’t stop me from plunging it into my skin. I released the rest of the liquid into my scrawny body and curled up beside Momma.
Sleep didn’t come instantly, but I felt tired, drowsy, and numb, just in time for the unwanted visitors to crash through the door.
The nightmare was over.
I hadn’t gone back to sleep after Cat woke me up, and a look in the rearview mirror showed exhaustion in my bloodshot eyes.
The coffee had done the trick. Cat, who hadn’t had one, fell asleep about twenty minutes after we headed into my room. I stayed sitting up, sipping my sugary coffee, my back to the wall, wishing that I hadn’t bothered flipping the damn couch into a bed because it was utterly pointless. Cat stayed sitting up, too. Heavy with sleep, she was slumped against my underarm until mid-morning, with my fingers wandering over her clothed arm as horrible visions filled my head.
I did all I could to keep the image of her battered face and dirty hands, the mud-caked beneath ripped nails from where she tried and failed to get away, from my mind. It was bad enough that I had to see that shit every time I closed my eyes. I wouldn’t tolerate it during waking hours.
The nightmare that was my childhood, also best forgotten, was a painful addition to my terrible thoughts. But as heart-wrenching as that was, it wasn’t Cat being raped and murdered because I was a selfish cunt.
I had a lot of shit to make up for.
And I was starting now.
We were up, out, and on the road before Ollie could protest to our day-date.
