“Mom.”
The name slips past my lips with a hint of fear and a swell of nausea. My fingers tighten on the door jamb—the one Hunter helped me switch a couple weekends ago.
The fixed lock. The barred exit. The change that lured mom out of the shadows.
If I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have made the effort.
“Daughter.” Mom tilts her head.
The living room falls into a deeper quiet as she stares at me. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Lips a dark red—the color of dried blood. Like the scabs I used to pick at obsessively when I was a child.
My skin starts itching.
I hear the rising notes.
D# major.
The saddest key in music.
The perfect background for mom’s haunting.
My mother rises from the couch. Always with that regal manner, even though we’re dirt poor and destitute.
She used to be beautiful. A pageant queen, mom always boasted. I won the Miss Teen Pageant.
One of her many stories.
Addicts are allergic to the truth.
What she won was the genetic lottery. But like all lottery winners who foolishly splurge their winnings and end up worse than before, mom’s beauty is desperate. Like a fraying rope, tying together what little appeal her face and painfully thin body have left to give.
Under the weight of her bad decisions, the cracks always show. Makeup and a nice smile can’t hide it.
“What are you doing here?” I snap. Despite my heated tone, my nail scratches against the glossy paint of the doorknob. The heel of my pumps slap the floor as my knee bounces uncontrollably.
“I found this under your bed.” Mom whips up two fingers. Perched between them is a golden condom.
My heart slaps hard against my ribs.
A flood of images rush my mind.
Dutch with amber eyes burning as he growled, ‘Take off your clothes and spread your legs.’
Dutch cradling my face and kissing me. ‘You’re doing great, Cadey. Just relax, baby. You feel so good’.
Dutch pushing into me and filling me with an explosion of pain and pleasure. So much I thought I’d burst.
My muscles coil and I subconsciously brush my hand against my school skirt, right over the deepest bruise on my hip. The strength of his hands when he’d gripped me left marks all over my body. Marks that soaked right through to my soul.
Mom arches an eyebrow. “I see.” A slow, smug grin spreads across her face. “Good for you, Cadey. I thought you’d be a square all your life. You make me proud.”
It’s instant the way her words crush the memories. Twist and turn them into something crude. Ugly. Despicable.
Everything beautiful falls to ruin in her tainted hands. I shouldn’t have expected this to be different. Yet all I want to do is shower until my skin bleeds.
“Was it your first time?”
My eyes lift to hers.
Can’t she see? Can’t she tell that I’m uncomfortable? That I’m angry? That I’m bleeding inside?
Or does she see and not care?
I’ve always wondered.
Is she that oblivious or is she that evil?
Mom’s brown eyes light up with excitement. She used to look at me like that when payday rolled around and she had her dealer on standby.
“Oh, I can tell it was painful. Poor thing. It’s always horrible the first time. Especially if he doesn’t know how to please a woman. Next time will be better. Once you know what you like—”
“I told you not to come back here,” I hiss.
Mom’s spiel dies a violent death.
She goes still and a flash of something cruel passes through her eyes. In a blink, it’s gone and she’s back to her smiley self.
“Why wouldn’t I come here? This is my house.”
“Your house?” I scoff. “Rick and I are the ones paying rent and keeping the lights on. What have you done, mom?”
“Cadey—”
I cut her off with a sharp gesture. “I let you stay the weekend because Viola wasn’t home. It’s Monday. School will be over soon. I don’t want her to see you.”
“Oh, loosen up, Cadey.” Mom tsks. “I let you yell at me all you wanted this weekend. Are you still not over it?”
“Over it?” My eyes bulge.
I shouldn’t let her needle me. I should brush her off and let it go. But she’s an expert at digging under the skin. She pushes at the cuts hidden deep inside. It’s instinctual to react. To bawl out. To clamor for justice when someone presses on an open wound.
“What exactly is it that I’m supposed to get over, mom?” I hiss. “The fact that you faked your own death? The fact that you roped me into your ridiculous ‘suicide’? Had me lie to the police and burn some poor woman’s corpse?”
“That corpse was a verified Jane Doe.” Mom sticks a pointer at me. “And why don’t you yell a little louder for the entire apartment building to hear?”
I take a threatening step toward her and she inches back.
“I don’t care why you had to die and I don’t give a damn about the reasons you’re alive again either, but for my sister’s sake you need to stay dead. At least until I can find a way to explain this to Viola.”
“Explain what?” A sweet voice pours behind me and sends a cold shiver down my spine.
No.
Viola can’t be here.
Not while mom is in the living room like a freaking ghost come to life.
Panicked thoughts bombard my head.
I reach desperately for a solution.
But it’s no use.
Mom makes her move first. When she breezes past me to reveal herself, I smell death. I smell disaster.
I smell the end of everything I hold dear.
“Mom.” I croak. And then I react.
Desperately.
Without thought.
I wrap my arms around her and try to jerk her back, away from the doorway, away from Viola.
It’s too late.
Vi’s sharp gasp and the clatter of her cell phone on the ground are what I hear first. Slowly, almost painfully, my eyes move to my little sister’s face. Pale skin. Dark hair. Pretty. Like mom.
Except her makeup isn’t a tool to hide how tough life has been. My sister’s makeup enhances her round cheeks and pretty lips. Her sweet, innocent eyes.
Eyes that are darkening with horror and pain as she stares at our mother.
“What… who is this? Why does she look like mom?”
“Vi—”
“It’s me, baby.” Mom coos. “I’m back.”
“Back? But…” Vi’s face turns as white as a sheet. “You were dead. You…” Her gaze shifts to me. “Did you know?”
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
Viola’s eyes narrow.
Something shatters in my heart when I see her look of betrayal.
I take a step forward, but she whips around and takes off at a breakneck speed, sprinting down the hallway and dragging my heart with her.
Jinx: Dirty Secrets Don’t Stay Buried
Redwood Prep has been known to cough up earth-shattering scandals, but I might have just stumbled on the biggest of them all.
You know what they say. Don’t dig up the body in the backyard, or its ghost just might pay you a visit.
Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.
– Jinx
