Page 32 of Born to Scar

“You told me at the bridge that your father tried to take Jenny’s freedom,” Cam whispers.

“They ruled it a suicide. It was not a suicide, and if I could do anything in my life differently, it would be that night. She tried so hard to protect me, my entire life—her entire life. She was four years older than me, and all she wanted to do was to keep me safe. She was just a child. She shouldn’t have had to try to keep me safe.”

I sit up, pulling the sheet over me and under my arms, fidgeting with my nails as I continue. “I just wonder if she were alive, who she would be. You know? What she’d name her babies? If she’d have babies.” I sigh. God, I miss everything we never got to have. “She was so good, perfect. She would have made the best partner, the best mother. We’re polar opposites.”

We were. Where I failed, she was perfect in every way—loving when I hated, beautiful when I was ugly, sweet when I was rotten. She didn’t let what happened to her define her. I did. I still do, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Mik snuck in, and so did these two men sitting beside me. Somehow, they knocked down every wall I had built.

“My father is a cop in Deacan County. He abused my mother, my sister, and me. That worthless man had three women totally devoted to him, whom he slowly killed. He is a pig. Literally.” I chuckle at my own joke, but I shake my head when I still don’t get a reaction from them.

“A fucking waste of space,” I spit. “We couldn’t do anything to stop him. No one believed us. He is a fucking cop. Of course, no one believed us. He’s a cop who likes to cut.” I hold up my arm for emphasis. “I’m a walking hashtag because of him.” I put my arm down and wrap both around my legs, knees to my chest. “My back, though, that was a whip. I’m not sure why he used both, but he preferred the whip and chains. At least with me, he did. Steadying my breathing, I ready myself for the truth I have told few people.

“He would rape all of us, sometimes in the same room, making us watch, sometimes in our own rooms. My mother took the brunt of it, but she couldn’t stop all of it. Anytime we would cry or try to push him away or tell him no, if we weren’t obedient, he’d cut us—well, Jenny and me. I don’t know what he did to Mom, but we would hear her muffled screaming. My body is far more marked than Jenny’s was, but she still had so many, too many scars. She was never chained and whipped. But then again, she wasn’t the bad kid.”

I take a deep breath and sigh it out, steadying my nerves once again. “It lasted for years. I have scar tissue on scar tissue in some places. By the time we were teens, the schools and police department were aware of our ‘suicidal tendencies.’” Air-quoting those last words, I roll my eyes.

“Jenny went to college at eighteen, but she wasn’t allowed to live on campus. She was forced to stay at home. She only had two years left when it happened. She would have been free. We were fighting him off so hard that night. That night was different from all the other times. Something was…off. He cut her wrist too deeply. She bled…”

My voice cracks, and my eyes rim with tears. I blink them back. He doesn’t get them anymore.

“She bled out in front of me, while he wiped the handle clean and put it in her hand. He handed me a blade, too. He had cut me already. The police report states that we had a suicide pact and he found us before I could finish.

“I should have stabbed him. If I could go back, I would have killed him. It wouldn’t bring her back, but he wouldn’t be breathing my air.” I take another deep breath in and out, working to get air into my lungs, which refuse to take any in.

“After they rolled her lifeless body out of that hellhole, I packed as much as I could fit into my backpack and pushed my bike up the road and left. I was supposed to go for observation, but he somehow talked my way out of it. I have never been back, and until right now, I have worked hard not to relive it.

“I met Bik a few weeks later through Felipe. He saw me racing with some shady people. I needed money desperately. At first, Bik didn’t want me racing, but I begged. And whined. I was sixteen after all, still a brat.” Both men sitting beside me scoff. My eyebrows shoot to the top of my head. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You’re still a brat, baby girl,” Cam teases.

“And you still whine, sweet girl,” Jared tacks on top.

Now I scoff because they are out of their minds.

“Anyway,” I bite, “I won, and he has let me race ever since. He made me finish high school. He had me working in the bar, and he hid me when my father looked. I stayed in his home until I was eighteen and got the apartment I live in now. Ray owns that building, so my rent is very, very low, and there is no chance of eviction. And…it’s still somewhat hidden, I suppose. My name isn’t on the lease.”

“Bik really helped you,” Jared says with admiration and then gasps. “You have his last name.”

“Yeah, he is a lot like a dad to me. He’s only like fifteen years older than me, but still, he was more caring than my own sperm donor was. That’s why he calls me kiddo. I think he took the role literally. So, I asked if I could take it.” I chuckle.

“Bik was the one to push me to cover all the scarring,” I continue, absent-mindedly rubbing my fingers on Medusa’s face. “I became a little addicted to it—the pain, from both the tattoos and the piercings. It helped take the other pain away for a little bit.”

“Your real last name is Halloway?” Cam asks, and I nod.

“My birth name, yes. My real last name is Rhodes. Everything we did to get my name changed was completely legal. It helps hide me from him, too. I’m sure if he wanted to, though, he could find me.”

“Have you ever looked for your mother?” Cam asks.

“Hell no. I don’t blame her for what he did, and I’m grateful she redirected him when she could for us. But she should have left. She should have taken Jenny and me and left. My guess is that she’s dead, that he’s killed her.” I shrug, showing them my complete detachment from that part of my life.

“You had a bike at sixteen?” Jared questions. I chuckle at how he just caught that.

“I told you; I was whiny and a brat. It’s what I wanted. I got my motorcycle license as soon as I could after I got my driver’s license. If I was good and kept my mouth shut, my dad said I could have one. His dirty little secrets were masked by niceties. Bik was able to get the title transferred to him and under his registration. I still have no idea how he did that.”

I clamp my mouth shut, feeling drained from everything I’ve told them. I lie back down, curling up on myself in silence.

CHAPTER 15

JARED